In memory of Cyrus

Cyrus, my workshop buddy, sadly left us on Tuesday the 29th of July 2025.  He was fifteen years old.

Over the past three years, he has been my daily companion — waiting impatiently by the front door every morning, eager to get going. In the workshop, he was quite particular: demanding fresh water and insisting on the high chair to sit on, often moaning at me when I was sitting in his place.

He was an unusual cat. He only ever accepted my husband and me, not at all interested in other people. But he loved the workshop routine. And he often let me know when he’d had enough — at which point I’d carry him over my shoulder back upstairs so he could use the toilet or grab a snack. The rest of the time he chilled on the bed or couch like a king on his divan.

He was the best kitty I could’ve ever dreamed of. A solid 6kg, his cuddles meant a full armful of furry body, his chin resting on my shoulder, his calm blue eyes taking in his surroundings while purring like a V8 engine.

My heart is broken. I am devastated to have lost him and will miss him terribly. But he was everything his nicknames suggested — especially ‘Happy Cat’ and ‘Plonky’. There was always a big oof when he jumped off a height, thanks to his size. He loved his people, he loved cuddling, he loved the bedtime routine. Then he’d give paw for a bedtime snack and claim his spot in the middle of the bed between my husband and me — the same spot he’d claimed ever since he was a crazy little whirlwind of a kitten, back when he first joined our lives.

I have lost a small piece of me, but I know he is just sleeping now, in peace.