Two years ago in March, on a Wednesday, I woke up early. I checked my alarm clock, and it said 6:30. Then I sat up and noticed my Siamese cat, Blukie, at the foot of my bed. He was just sitting up straight, regally posed and with an odd expression on his face (it looked odd at the time). I said 'hi' to him, gave him a stroke on the head, and lay back down again because I was tired. Usually, when Blukie gets off the bed, you feel his weight leaving the mattress and hear the 'thump' as he lands on the floor. But I did not feel or hear him get off the bed, so I sat back up to stroke him again. He was gone.
I thought it was a little strange, but I was tired so I thought nothing of it. I got up, and left for school. When I came back home, my Mum gave my brother and I same really nice iced doughnuts. I wondered why, until my Mum told us that Blukie had been run over in the night, and that he had not survived. It was the postman who had found his body, rigid and cold, at six that morning.
I felt dead for the next few days, mourning him and his short life because he had only spent one year in this beautiful world.
It was only after those days of constant crying that I remembered I had seen him the morning after his death. And the questions that have aroused since then torture me.
I think about his odd expression. It did look strange, almost unnatural for a cat. He didn't acknowledge my hand stroking his head either, as he usually did. He just watched me. And I don't see how he could have slipped from my bed without my noticing it.
I wonder if his spirit had come to say goodbye. My brother says that I either imagined it or made it up, and once I did wish if it had been better had I not seen him after he'd died. I will never know either, not till we meet again in heaven. I miss him so much, and I just wish that I could know if it was his spirit/ghost that had visited me that morning.