Page 99 of Never Too Late to Date

‘Do you think it’s poison again?’

Alex reached inside his rucksack and brought out a tiny medical kit.

‘Sadly, I do. Bruce looks the same as the others. Not much doubt.’

Vicky bent down for another stroke of the cat’s fur.

‘Poor baby.’

Kneeling by Bruce’s side, Alex took a syringe from the kit.

‘I’m going to take a sample of his blood, just to make sure. But I can’t see the point of dragging Bruce back to the clinic. It’s beneath his dignity.’

He pointed towards the nearest tree.

‘I suggest we bury him here. It’s a lovely spot, looking out over the water. Do you agree?’

Vicky nodded her head furiously.

‘Yes, I hate to think of him laid out on a table somewhere being prodded or, worse, cut up.’

Alex reached into the rucksack and brought out a small trowel and a thick cotton bag.

Even in her traumatised state, Vicky wondered what else he’d managed to fit in there. Tardis wasn’t the word.

‘Can you hold the bag, please, so I can put him safely in there? We don’t want anything digging him up.’

Vicky could have certainly done without that image, but as asked, she held the neck of the bag open while Alex gently placed him inside.

The digging took a while, but neither of them felt the need to speak. While Alex battled on, Vicky constructed a little cross out of twigs and a hair tie.

Eventually, he pronounced the hole deep enough, and together they lowered the cat into his makeshift grave and spread earth on top.

Vicky placed the little cross at the back of the plot by the tree and took a step back to stand next to Alex.

‘Do you want to say something?’

‘No, you do it. You spent a lot more time with him than I did.’

‘OK. Is there any coffee left?’

‘A bit. Why?’

‘I’m not sure I can do it without something in my hand for the toast.’

Alex poured the last few drops of coffee into the cup without making a comment and passed it over to her.

Vicky raised her makeshift chalice high into the air.

‘Goodbye, dear friend. You didn’t deserve this…’

A couple of fat tears spilt over and fell onto the ground.

‘You were a lovely, brave cat, and we were lucky to know you, especially Dolly…’

At the thought of how sad her dog would be, Vicky broke down again. A warm hand rubbing her back urged her on.

‘So, we hope you’ve gone to a place with plenty of space to roam, along with an abundant supply of mice and some friends to play with. Godspeed, Bruce, and cheers!’