As I write this, I have a warm and silky bundle of cat pressed up all cosy against my knee. After a long time of massaging her jaw and under her ears to the point where her eyes just closed slowly and she melted into my hands, she is now having a thorough and contented wash of her paws and legs and flanks.

This makes me very happy, as other than her almost white nose and gums you wouldn’t know, in this moment, that there is a thing wrong with her. Just a little 5-year old calico cat who is loved and contented.

Sadly, that is not the case. She’s on a daily dose of steroids to mask her reactive symptoms, and B12 supplements to help her make new blood cells as the old ones are destroying themselves very quickly.

After many weeks of blood tests and scans last year, the vets have narrowed down the options to being most likely a lymphoma. This will definitely be the thing that kills her, but at the moment we don’t know when. It could be weeks, it could months, it could possibly (unlikely) even be years.

So we will take these good moments, and enjoy them to the maximum. Oh to be a much-loved house cat who is cared for, and fed delicious food, and medicated in surreptitious ways to ensure your last days are filled with comfort and peace.