Sadly, it is now well over a month since our beloved tomcat, Archie, went missing.
We still cannot believe how he could possibly have disappeared during those three hours when we were away. It was July, and we had gone to dinner with some friends. When we came back, Archie wasn’t there. We didn’t see him that evening, but we didn’t immediately worry. We simply thought, Well, he’ll turn up in the morning for breakfast.
But the following day Sandra suddenly said, “Gosh, where’s Archie?”
And he wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there at lunchtime. He wasn’t there in the evening. And then, as the hours passed, we began to realise that he really had gone.
We searched everywhere for him. We put up notices. We telephoned people. We asked around. We did everything we could think of.
But Archie had disappeared.

There is something particularly painful about losing a cat when you don’t know what has happened to him. When a beloved animal dies in your arms, however heartbreaking that may be, there is at least a kind of closure. You know what has happened. You can say goodbye.
But when an animal simply disappears, there is no goodbye. There is only the terrible uncertainty: Where is he? What happened to him? Is he still somewhere out there?
And in some ways, that is even harder.
Archie was a rescue cat. He had originally been found and taken in by our friend Anna Valencia, the writer of The Chestnut House. Eventually, because they already had a dog and other cats, Anna had to find him another home. And so Archie came into our lives.

It is rather wonderful to think that this little cat was also responsible, indirectly, for the beginning of a friendship.
Our friendship with Anna eventually led to my translation into Italian of her book and we have remained in touch ever since. We look forward to her next book, and it is always a great pleasure to see Anna and her family — particularly her children, who have grown from two little girls into two less little girls and a small boy, who by now probably isn’t so small anymore.
So Archie gave us more than his companionship. In his own small way, he helped create relationships and experiences that have remained with us.
He came into our lives in 2019; in Fornoli’s Bar Serra to be exact, and went with me then living in Longoio in a cat carrier securely tied on the back.of my scooter.

Just think about that year.
It was before COVID. Before the terrible war in Ukraine had started. Before so many of the things that have changed our world. It was also the year that Sandra’s mother died, and the year before my heart operation.
And, sadly, during the first months of Archie’s life with us, I wasn’t always there. I was in hospital, Florence’s Careggi.
Sandra told me that Archie was really affected by my absence. Perhaps that isn’t surprising, because I remember so clearly the moment when I first picked him up at the Fornoli bar. I
From that moment onwards, he became part of our lives.
And what a life he shared with us.
He accompanied us on our walks. He was there when we moved from the old house to our new house. He was part of our walks up to the little chapel in the snow. He was simply there — one of those small presences that gradually become so woven into everyday life that you hardly notice how important they have become.
And that is why I cannot accept the idea that someone could say, “It’s only a cat.”
No.
It isn’t “only a cat”.
It is what you invest in a relationship that matters.
If you invest nothing in another person, another animal, or another living being, then perhaps their disappearance means very little. But if you give them your affection, your time, your attention and your love, they become part of you.
The cats have shared our lives.
They have been there through good times and bad times, through changes, through illness, through moves, through ordinary days and extraordinary ones. They become part of the fabric of a home and, ultimately, part of the fabric of our lives.
And Archie was part of ours.
Perhaps that is why his disappearance hurts so much.
We don’t know where he is. We don’t know what happened. We don’t know whether we will ever see him again.
And there is nothing we can do except hope.
But perhaps there is also another way of looking at it.
As Shakespeare reminds us, we all have our time upon the stage. We enter, we play our part, and eventually we leave.
Archie had his time upon our stage.
And what a pleasure it was to have him there.
So, dear Archie, wherever you are, thank you.
Thank you for the pleasure you gave us.
Thank you for accompanying us on our walks.
Thank you for being there in our old house and then in our new one.
Thank you for the memories, for the companionship, and for becoming part of our family.
Thank you, too, for the friendships that came into our lives because of you.
We miss you terribly.
You may have disappeared from our sight, dear Archie, but you have certainly not disappeared from our lives.
You will be missed.
Ever missed.
And you will remain, always, in our hearts.
Dear Archie, thank you.

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