Sleep well, no children or dogs or sneezes to bother you now.
What is there to say about Sooty? He came into our lives, at a decent interval after the death of our childhood cat, Pussy. Now Pussy arrived when I was around 18 months and died when I was around 18 years old, not a bad life for a cat. Sooty arrived aged about 3, traumatised from the move from loving family who couldn't keep him to temporary home in a house with lots of dogs, and then to us. A nervous cat. A beauitfully sleek black cat with a tinge of deep redness under the glossy blank coat. A dusty cat; he never did master the art of keeping himself properly clean. A cat who liked to hide under the bed or bask in the sunshine, joining the family for cuddles and attention but off in a flash at the first hint of a rustled newspaper or a stranger in the house.
He didn't have any superfeline powers, he didn't have any special tricks or abilities. Unlike Pussy, he didn't used to be able to recognise the sound of Dad's car and be waiting for him at the end of the day; unlike Sadie he didn't master the trick of velcroing himself to the window, and unlike Henry he didn't sit on shoulders or wrestle with ink pens. He was just a cat. Quiet, unassuming, well mannered. And old, and uncomfortable, and, ultimately, acutely unwell.
We will miss him.