Typically one is spurred to write, when one has strong emotions. This is why robots do not write good prose and Dr Spock’s singing career fell flat. I have written from numerous emotions but nothing as sad as what I type now.

Ferris Wes McConnell was born in 1994. His first few days were spent in a roller door of a cowshed and his life may have been largely uneventful but he was destined for a life with humans. He was adopted by my sister christened Wes and developed a taste for full cream milk.

He got rather large and to this day carries an underbelly reminder of his early excess. To his credit he was an apt hunter but his real talents lay in human relations and as an ambassador for the feline kind. Patient and temperless he always had time for anyone and could be coaxed into a conversation with little effort.

Ferris came into my life shortly before I met my wife. It was timely. I had been recommended to get a pet by good council. I was still in my self prescribed, self medicating stage of self development and a pet was agreed as a good way to get some grounding.

Ferris rapidly adapted to a bachelors life and quickly became a frequent visitor to many laps. His ginger fur caused much consternation before people left the house. But with some grace I was able to offer a lint lifter and a knowing smile.

When my wife came along Ferris rapidly became her cat. Like sitting in the warmest part of the house each day. The sunlight of my wifes affection became his favourite place to lounge. At first I was put out and then I realised. He is just as clever as me. He likes Annas company to my own and who am I to blame?

At this juncture things become sombre. Given Ferris’s age and health, we could not find a family to him to stay with whilst we travel the world. We had resigned to a tearful farewell to our ginger redeeming friend.

In fact this morning whilst I was writing this I must admit to feeling pretty glum. So glum that I finished about two paragraphs ago and went and cuddled ferris as is want in our house when one feels suitably sad.

But ferris is not ready to move on to his next stage of reincarnation just yet. The gods smiled. A suitable home was found and Ferris may fit in a few more stories before his tale is told.