The vet thinks she was hit by a car. That's all the detail I want to go into here.
Posy was a Blue Tortoiseshell Burmese, a petite cat with a pretty, mottled coat of grey, brown and cream. One back foot was entirely cream; a fault by breeder standards, but we thought it was cute. The fur on her chest was so soft you could hardly feel it.
She was twelve, the older of our two cats and my favourite. I was still at school when we got her; she's been around almost half my life.
She wasn't the nicest-natured of animals, nor the brightest. She would jump onto your back or shoulders and cling on with all her claws - if you were really unlucky, she'd gnaw your scalp affectionately while she was up there. She once lost all the whiskers on one side of her face by kipping too close to a gas burner. But she seemed fond of me and was always glad when I came home and made a fuss of her. She was a lapcat and a bedcat, although she liked the outdoors too and was a fearsome predator.
I'd like to tell one story about Posy:
My bathroom at my parents' house looks out over a small flat roof below. If allowed into the bathroom, Posy would immediately leap out of the window onto this roof, then complain loudly that she was stuck. I would lower my sports bag on a piece of string, Posy would climb inside and be hauled up to safety. Once out of the bag she would, if permitted, do it all over again. I know she knew it was a game.
She was my pretty puss always.