Thomas's decline into ill health began in 2003 when he developed a serious ulcer on his left eye. It would heal up and then ulcerate again and was exacerbated by his prednisalone pills which dried his eye. After struggling with lotions and drops, it was decided that surgical intervention was needed. I was faced with the option of a graft being made over his cornea or the complete removal of his eye. If the graft didn't take, it would mean a second operation to remove the eye anyway. Since Thomas had a heart condition and asthma, general anaesthetics have always filled me with the fear of losing him on the operating table. I therefore made the very hard decision to have his eye removed and not chance a second operation. It was a hard decision, but when I looked at it from his point of view, I realised that he wouldn't suffer all the mental anguish that a human would suffer. He'd just adjust and get on with life.

The operation was a success, though Thomas kept scratching the wound open and had to be fitted with a protective collar. Eventually, it healed up nicely and once his whiskers had grown back again, he stopped bumping his head. Life was almost back to normal, except that there was now a balancing act between him needing the prednisalone for his bowels and lungs and it causing his remaining eye to ulcerate if the dose was too high.

Also at this time, his heart complaint had worsened and he now needed to be on Atenolol to slow and strengthen his heart rate, Ferusemide to remove excess water from his blood and Tumul-K to replace potassium lost via the Ferusemide. Poor Thomas was starting to rattle with all the pills inside him. On top of that, to try and control his bowels, he was put on a bland prescription diet which he hated. Thomas adored his nosh.

To encourage Thomas to take his pills (I've never been able to administer pills, they were always crushed and placed on his food) I started cooking him fish regularly which became the highlight of his life.

In September 2003, Thomas had an accident. I don't know what happened but I came home to find him sat quietly on the third stair up. This is not where he would normally sit. Then I realised that he was sat in an odd position and then I further realised that he couldn't move. I had heard that heart failure could cause paralysis in the legs and I thought that Thomas was going to die. I rushed him to the vets and it was established that it was either a spinal embolism or a slipped disc. The only option since surgery would be so risky was to take him home and see if he got any better.

I spent a week nursing Thomas, lifting him into and out of his litter tray and bringing his food and water to him regularly. He looked so content, yet there was no improvement. I had always hoped to get him to the age of 15, but it looked now like he wasn't going to make it to 14. I remember begging whatever powers may be to let me have one more year with him. Then early on the morning when he was due to go to the vets, he got up and staggered up the bed to me and demanded a weeks worth of backdated cuddle tax.

Thomas recovered from his mishap, but never regained his agility. I had to put boxes on the floor so he could use them as a ladder to get onto the sofa and the bed, though he could still make it up and down the stairs. He still enjoyed going out in the garden when it was sunny and lived for fish and cuddles.

On top of all his other problems, Thomas began to suffer from arthritis in his right foreleg, so to help ease it, I bought him his favourite thing in the world. His own little electric blanket. This was left on day and night and I covered it in the woolly cover that had been on his radiator bed which he could no longer climb into. Thomas loved his electric blanket and spent most of his time on it. At this time, he was becoming more clingy and liked to be close to me. He would sleep on my pillow. I would pillow my head on his haunches and he pillowed his head in the palm of my hand. Due to his diarrhea spiraling out of control, he was no longer allowed in the bed which made me very sad.

It sounds like a terrible catalogue of ailments, but he was a happy cat, always purring and looking forward to his next fish treat (which became more and more numerous). He was dearly loved and after I thought I'd lost him, I valued every moment I had with him.