We live in England and got Kitty Mogg from neighbours who were given her at 2 1/2 weeks old and we got her a week later, far too young to be away from her mum. She came into our lives as a tiny bundle of long black fur and lots of spiky bits. My husband declared he wanted nothing to do with 'it'. Until one day I caught him red handed fussing her and saying, 'come on then, little kittymogg, come and have some fuss.' in a very manly way...ok well, as manly as a high pitched soft-and-fluffy voice can get. She was supposed to grow into her name and earn it - Kitty Mogg was just an interim, better than saying, 'Oi, Cat!', but it stuck.

I was seven months pregnant with my son at the time, so they grew up together, each other's shadow. One day when he was about 20 months old, he was toddling about in only a nappy, the cat launched herself at his backside. She hung on to the back of his nappy trying to gnaw her way through. He held onto the sides of the nappy, trying to run away, saying, 'No bappy, no bappy oooh-oooooh!' Wish I had the camcorder, it was so funny. They used to fall asleep together on the windowsill and I heard many a comment from passers by as to how cute they looked. There were many such laugh-out-loud moments throught her life.

When she was about 3 1/2, we came back late one evening to find her with a back leg trailing behind her. She'd been hit by a car and it had mashed her leg. After three operations, massive doses of anitbiotics and the like later,her leg was amputated and she learnt to razz about... perdoink, perdoink, perdoink, plop. The amputation made her even more grumpy. I was the one who found her injured, took her to the vet lots and did all the nursing, so yup, she hated my guts and was quite happy to show me just how much.

She really was a bad tempered, psychotic, belligerent old boot who loved making us out to be liars by schmoozing with any visitors and then promptly savaging us as soon as they'd leave. (Eventually, a move to a quieter neighbourhood chilled her out and the last six years of her life were spent pottering about contendedly.)She was a stunning looking cat; glossy, long black fur and a ridiculously fluffy plumptious plume-tail. She had a very pretty face and bright green-yellow eyes that scowled lovingly at me. She also stood out due to the back left leg missing. She was aggressive, but also so sweet and loving on her terms and I wouldn't have changed her for anything. Anyone who met her could not help but be mesmerised by her and they'd always remember her - she was very charismatic.

At the end of her life: we'd been on holiday and came back and didn't really see too much of her. When we did, she was just pottering about like the old lady she was. This wasn't unusual though as the cats liked the neighbours and would sometimes desert us sometimes for a day or two. Then we didn't see her for two days, and my son found her on the decking. She tried to hobble over and made it into the porch and flopped down and he called me. We took her in and called the vet. When we got there, he dropped the bombshell; she had complete renal failure and only had two or three days to live and it was not treatable. The only and right thing to do was to make the near impossible choice to have her put down the next day at home.

She spent most of the night being held by me and in spite of her final terminal stage, she was still purring. I was feeding her 5ml (a teaspoonful) of water via syringe into her mouth every hour - as directed by the vet. She was so weak she couldn't lap properly and it was taking about 10 mintues being very slow and careful. I reduced the dose by half and gave it to her every half-hour instead and continued slowly reducing again and again as she lost her strength.

She deteriorated throughout the time rapidly and in the end I was giving her a single drop every couple of minutes, only when she was able to swallow. I stayed awake all night to nurse her and my son would not leave her side. I took her outside to see the garden and the sun, the other two cats said goodbye. The rest of the time we sat with and held her watching her die before our eyes knowing there was not a damn thing I could do to stop it. All through that time, I regularly gave her Reiki to ease her pain, fear and to relax her. Bloody awful, we were stunned how sudden it all was - within 24 hours. Absolutely devestated, words can't describe it.

24 hours after the intial diagnosis, the vet came to do the deed. Our other two grown-up children came and stayed with us. He sedated her and then injected the stuff into her kidneys where it was supposed to work its way through her system in the least traumatic way. He didn't realise just how close to death she actually was so the stuff didn't go through her system like it was supposed to. He had to go back out to his car and get barbituates which he injected straight into her heart, moving the needle around as he did it... horrible to watch; the vet advised us it wouldn't be pleasant but we weren't going to desert our beloved cat at her last moments. And still she purred.

My beautiful, belligerent old boot of a cat eventually died at 4.18pm on Tuesday 11th August 2009 with all her family around her - she went knowing we were there together at the end of her life as we were in the beginning - with our collective love. I believe she would have died within an hour if the vet hadn't have put her down anyway. ...So much more than 'just a cat' - unique - anyone who met her will testify to that. There's a gaping, yearning hole where she should be, but she's pain-free and at peace now. She purred to the very end, tried to growl and twitched her last characteristic twitch of her once magnificent tail and died on our sofa being fussed and stroked by us all.

I always thought I wasn't the kind of person to opt for a pet cremation and keep them in a box and be overly emotional about the loss of a pet. There was no way I wanted to bury her here, and obviously we couldn't keep her as she was, so we found a lovely specialist pet crematorium (who I'd recommend to anyone, he was such a nice chap). We said our final goodbyes to her physical body on the Wednesday, she spent the night in our room so she wasn't alone. Leaving her at the crematorium was almost as difficult as the day before, knowing she would be spending the night in a cold store on her own before being committed to the flames. My husband and I sobbed and left some personal effects in with her which were cremated too.

We picked her up on Saturday and she is now in one of her favourite places in the living room. It feels a little better now she's with us again, but that space her presence occupied can never be filled....so much more than 'just a pet'. She was one of the family and will always be. She's pain-free and at peace now and we have many fantastic memories to look back on to make us smile.

A week later and God I/we feel wretched. : ( but we derive some comfort as we've heard her purring, meowing for fuss and have seen her a couple of times. so she's with us in Spirit.

My heart really goes out to anyone who has lost part of their furry family. I'm quite resilient person and this has knocked me for six. We have two other cats - a ginger brother [Ghyngha] and brindle sister [Puffball], nearly eleven. One day their days will come, but after that we won't have any more pets, just can't face the loss. In the meantime we help the cats adjust to life without Kitty Mogg and enjoy their lovely company as always.

Rest in peace my Kitters, we love you lots xxxxxxx.

RIP Kitty Mogg 11.10.94 - 11.8.09, aged 14 years and 9 moths to the day.