I went and collected Harry a bit early from school yesterday. The first thing he said was "Let's go get Wilson from the vet Mum." And I had to stop in the middle of the freakishly hot playground. I took his bag from him and squatted down to meet his eyes. And I watched those dark brown eyes fill with tears as I told him that Wilson had passed away during the day.

Wilson was riddled with cancer and had to be euthanised. Although I told Harry that he had a big lunch and drifted off to sleep and did not wake up. Harry started to blame the vet. He was angry, sad, and had no idea how to deal with his feelings. He was crying but trying to stop the tears from falling. Blinking a lot with a trembling lip. So I started crying as well, which was absolutely no help whatsoever.

So we invited some friends over for a sausage sizzle slip and slide afternoon which I think helped.

Until everyone left.

Then he lay in my bed with Wilson's collar and howled.

He is with my mum today, who has taken him to visit friends to pat their new litter of kittens. A lovely follower of this blog has suggested it be called Fur Therapy.

Goodbye beautiful Wilson.