But I'm really struggling with the loss of my boys. It's so difficult. Pat and I are on two different wavelengths. She needs to get rid of everything, so the house is starting to look like they never existed, and I'm just not ready for that. I'm still crying for them every day, and I need to have their things around me. The only thing left now is their cat tree, which I've put off removing. But we're having a handy man in next week, Pat has asked him to take it away. Then they will be gone. The house will look exactly as it did three years ago, before they arrived. The only thing I'll have is the brown bootlace they brought with them from the breeder, and which remained their favourite toy till the end - no matter what we bought them. Pat teaches night school three nights a week, and coming into the empty house is just awful. Someone said "I love my cats because I love my home, and slowly, over time, cats become the its visible soul." I feel like my home has died. I can barely stand to be here on my own. It's soulless and empty. I love them so much. Why did they have to go so young.