No One You Know

Last Wednesday, on the 27th of may, my cat, Toby, died of kidney failure. He was about 13 and a half years old, having been born in December 2006, and as I am only nearly 16, I have known him for all of my living memory. I didn't interact with him all the time as he was often out, and I didn't usually worry or notice not seeing him for most of a day, so it has felt surprisingly normal after his death. That is not to say I don't miss him. The first day after his death was the worst, though we had sort of already started mourning before he died when we knew he was on the way out.