Hey diddle diddle

For most of my life there has been a silent furry little friend in the background. She wasn't my pet, she was my aunt's (although she lived with my grandparents back home of the farm for 99 per cent of her life), but she really belonged to the entire clan. Everyone loved her.
You may have noticed I'm writing in past tense. That's because today Mokey was laid to rest.
That cat was 19. And until two weeks ago still looked as fit as a fiddle.
I'm used to animals dying. I know that sounds awful but when you grow up on a farm it is a fact of life and, sometimes, a necessary evil. You learn not to get close to certain beasts, but even then some animals (family, I'm talking about dairy farm favourites like old Bonnie, who was born the same year I was and sent off for hamburger meat sometime around either my 18th or 2st birthday, I forget which)just charm you into friendship.
I also had a brave little dog who fought with a snake in the house yard. She fought valiantly but was lost in battle. I've hardly ever cried so much. (I was in my 20s and living out of home by that time, too).
Mokey, from memory, was born in the hay shed. Although I'll stand corrected, Michelle, if I have that wrong. (I might be confusing it with another litter of kittens born to the feral cats in the hay shed). We got two kittens out of the litter but only one survived. The other was mauled in a fight. Possibly with a dog.
I'm vague on these details because I was only seven at the time.
That cat has been a part of a generation of Hatch family lives. I, at least, remember Tabs and Crystal - the previous family cats - but most of my cousins wouldn't.
Several very pretty girls (with features kind of like mine) are bereft.
A couple of weeks ago Mokey disappeared. Grandma thought she had taken herself off to die. Animals do that.
Pop found her ten days later, down by a neighbour's shed, scrawny, malnourished, blind, deaf, breathing with very great difficulty and miaowing wildly. Trapped in her own little mind and scared out of her wits. I hope on some level she knew she'd be found and was back safe in the bosum of the family home for the last few days before Grandma finally acquiesed and took her to the vet.
The last time I saw her was when I visited Grandma for her birthday late last week. Moke' has been buried beneath the rosebush I gave her as a birthday present. Rose bush tributes to family pets are a tradition for us.
It's a sad day in my family. We have lost one of our much-loved members.