Andrew certainly didn’t predict burying a cat today. Your cat, no less.

You brought your cat, Daisy, a little tuxedo cat, with you when you moved in with Andrew. She was the only pet, and you occasionally took her to Andrew’s parents house to mingle with their new dog, Bear. He was friendly toward the feline, and all was good, really.

Daisy was an attention seeker, always walking by your ankles and rubbing up against Andrew. He might not have been a cat person, but as long as you were happy, he didn’t mind. And she didn’t cause much trouble. Other than a few claw marks on the couch that he didn’t particularly like, that was really it.

So when you come into his music room, all tears and incoherent sentences, he panics for a moment.

“Woah, hey, slow down. Deep breaths.”

He says, keeping his voice level, remaining calm to the best of his abilities. You were breathing hastily, trying to form a sentence he could understand. It all happened so fast you hardly knew if it was real. That if you took him outside, there would be nothing there.

“I’d just opened the front door to come inside and- and Daisy got out and she slipped through the gate—“

You stammer, swallowing,

“And she was in the middle of the street and she.. she got hit!”

You say, breaking down into sobs and wails. Andrew’s face falls immediately. He doesn’t even need to say anything. He just pulls you into his arms, letting you sob and cry.

Eventually, you took him outside, and sure enough, there she was. Daisy. All scuffed up and near lifeless in the middle of the street. The rain pattering softly on her fur. Breath weak and gasping. Andrew was careful with her, taking her inside. She didn’t have a single chance. The moment she was inside and safe, wrapped in a blanket, she was gone. It was slow and painful for you and Daisy. Andrew felt nothing but sorrow.

Andrew wasn’t going to just toss her into a random hastily-dug hole in the backyard. He found a good spot. By the tree in the backyard. Near some flowers and flattering weeds. He dug carefully, slowly, blinking back tears.

Daisy was wrapped in her favourite blanket. The same one that lay on the couch when she would peruse the house. The same one the rubbed on and took naps on, doused in her scent. Placed carefully into the hole and buried.

Andrew sits next to you in the grass, holding you, not sure what to say. Because Daisy was your best friend.