Paçoca

Came back from a long weekend in São Paulo to learn from my brother tha one of my cats, Paçoca, was missing. He'd gone out in the morning and not returned home at night — very unlike him. My brother didn't tell me in São Paulo because he didn't want to spoil my trip.

I went around the guesthouse calling him. No response. My hopes went up a bit the following day, when I saw a large dog in our property. Could he have chased Paçoca? Maybe he ran up the mountain, onto another property, and didn't know his way home?

'There are no vultures in the sky,' my brother said. 'It's a good sign.' Our cleaning lady, Jéssica, also thought she'd heard a cat meowing in neighbouring trees.

On the third day, Jéssica said there were many blowfly mosquitoes by the staircase leading to the guesthouse's entrace. I went to check but didn't go deep into the bushes next to the staircase — I asked my brother if he could do it for me. And he found Paçoca. It looks like he was stung by a snake. Maybe he was trying to get home. Maybe he was trying to hide. I didn't want to see his body; my brother buried him.

He had just turned 4. My entire experience since I returned to Brazil in 2019 - when I left my life in London - has been tied to him and his sister Amora. They were my social life during the pandemic. They were my children. I just can't believe he is gone. I lie in bed and remember so many things about him.

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