It feels like just yesterday we had to say goodbye to Sadie. I knew Charlie was living on borrowed time but, somehow, it still feels like time came and snatched him away too soon. If you read Sadie’s tribute you know she and Charlie were the best of friends. In a strange, almost poetic way, it seems fitting that they left this world so close together.
On November 5th, we said goodbye to Charlie. We don’t know exactly how old he was, but we were lucky enough to share the last two decades with him. Charlie wasn’t so much adopted by us as he adopted us. One day, he simply walked into the house…and the rest, as they say, is history.
Back then, Charlie would follow us everywhere around the property, like a loyal dog. He’d trot along just behind us, occasionally darting up a tree before catching up again, making sure he didn’t miss a thing.
A few years ago, though, things started to change. Charlie began losing weight, and his appetite became unpredictable. Bloodwork confirmed his kidneys were failing- something heartbreakingly common in older cats. Still, up until this past year, he played with his toys, demanded treats, and carried on like the determined, spirited cat he always was.
2025 was a tough year for Charlie. There were several times we thought we might have to make the hard call, but each time he rallied- stubbornly, bravely- determined to seize another day.
Charlie loved people, warmth, and companionship. He could often be found snuggled up to Sadie or grooming Gilmour. Within the feline hierarchy, he was the quiet ruler. There was no drama, no noise, just an icy stare or firm body language, and everyone else would give him space. Gilmour was the one cat truly allowed into his bubble. They’d nap together in sunbeams, share gentle grooming sessions, and watch the world go by from a favourite windowsill.
And while Charlie loved his fellow animals, he had a special charm with people…especially those who swore they didn’t like cats. He made it his mission to change their minds, often by boldly curling up in their laps until they gave in. You couldn’t help but love him. Charlie was the definition of a cool cat. He was calm, confident, and full of quiet presence. Cats like him don’t come around often.
The past few weeks have been hard. The house feels different now- still, quiet. I find myself missing the routines I once took for granted. Toward the end, Charlie had to eat small, frequent meals. Sometimes a dozen a day. Anytime he showed the faintest interest in food, we’d feed him. It’s strange now, working uninterrupted, not feeling his tired little face staring up at me, demanding his seventh meal of the day.
You never think you’ll miss those tedious, repetitive moments… until they’re gone.
Time can be cruel. It took his health, his sparkle…but I hope time will also help us heal. For now, we miss him fiercely. The house feels eerily silent. Deafening, almost. Yet I know the days will gradually make the sting of a lost friend a little easier to bear and I’m grateful we got to share our lives with such a wonderful soul. One who reminded us to greet each day with curiosity and heart. Charlie was special, and I like to think he’s somewhere sunny now, curled up close beside Sadie again…purring in contentment. Until we meet again, goodbye Charlie.
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It’s so sad you had to lose two devoted companions so close to each other, but, as you mentioned, perhaps it is fitting as they spent so much time together. I hope that sharing these sad events helps in your healing process and helps others rekindle thoughts of beloved pets they have lost in the past.