"Possible Closure" Timtim Update

28 May 2026

 

Since Timtim disappeared, there has been no confirmed sighting of him at all.

At first I told myself he would return in his usual way, quietly, briefly, as he always had before. A day or two away was normal for him. But as the days stretched into weeks, that familiar pattern never resumed.

In that time, I also had a brief and unsettling conversation with a passerby who mentioned an “annoying tabby” and spoke in a way that left me feeling uneasy afterwards. I don’t know if they were referring to Timtim, and I can’t assume that they were, but the timing of that conversation has stayed with me. And haunts me.

Since then, I have found myself thinking through every possibility, as anyone would when an animal they care for simply doesn’t come home.

It is hard not to imagine all the different outcomes when there is no answer.

But imagination is not certainty.

What remains certain is that Timtim is deeply missed, and that I still hold hope, however fragile — that he may yet reappear in the way he always used to: quietly, unexpectedly, just at the edge of sight. I miss him so much. :(

 

 

TimTim Update

22 May 2026

 

When Mouse was trapped for desexing, everything changed in a way I didn’t expect.

Mouse was gone for two days, and during that time Timtim stayed close by. Not close enough to be fully seen, but nearby — watching, waiting, lingering in the edges of the space he and Mouse had always shared. It was as if he was trying to make sense of what had happened, keeping himself present without stepping into the open.

Then Mouse came home.

But something in the pattern had shifted.

After those two days, Timtim disappeared.

At first, it didn’t feel final. He had always been the one to drift out of sight for short periods — a day, sometimes two — before quietly returning as if nothing had changed. So I waited, expecting that familiar reappearance. I still looked for those brief moments at the edge of the garden, the small movement that meant he was still nearby.

But the days passed, and then more days, and Timtim did not come back.

There was no gradual return, no fleeting glimpse, no hesitant reappearance at feeding time. The quiet pattern that had always marked him — the careful visibility, the cautious presence — simply stopped.

Even after Mouse settled back into his routines, Timtim remained gone.

It is hard not to wonder what he understood in those two days. Whether he thought Mouse had been taken somewhere permanent, or whether something in him decided that the familiar world had changed too much to return to in the same way.

I don’t know.

What I do know is that he has not been seen since.

And every day since then, I still look in the same places. Still listen for that soft, careful presence just out of sight. Still hope that if I wait long enough, Timtim will appear again — not suddenly, but gently, as he always did.

But so far, he hasn’t.

 

Timtim

16th May 2026

 

 

 

 

 

 

Timtim

Before Timtim, there was Mouse and his brother Sox.

About ten months ago, two of them appeared in my life — wary, bonded little souls trying to survive together. Then tragedy struck when Sox was hit and killed by a car. It was heartbreaking, and for a while Mouse was suddenly alone.

Not long after that sad day, another cat appeared.

At first glance he looked almost identical to Mouse, so much so they could easily have been mistaken for twins. But Timtim had his own look — beautiful close-set almond-shaped eyes that always gave him a slightly cautious, thoughtful expression. It soon became obvious he was Mouse’s brother too.

And from then on, for the next eight months, it was Mouse and Timtim.

They were rarely apart for long. Sometimes one would vanish for a day or two before quietly returning, but never longer than that. They ate together, played together, explored together. If they weren’t sharing the same bowl of food side by side, one would often leave part of their meal behind for the other. Their bond was gentle and unspoken, the kind only animals seem to understand completely.

Timtim earned his name because he was such a timid little soul compared to Mouse. Mouse was the braver one, always first to appear, while Timtim hung back slightly, watching carefully with those soft eyes before deciding whether it was safe.

Then came the day Mouse was trapped for desexing.

Timtim stayed nearby for two days afterwards.

And then he disappeared.

Since then, there has been no sign of him at all.

Even while Mouse recovered and returned to his usual routines, Timtim never came back beside him. Part of me still wonders if, in his own way, Timtim thought Mouse had left on another journey and went searching for him. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s hard not to wonder.

Part of me also blames myself, even though I know desexing Mouse was the right thing to do and there was no way to foresee what would happen next.

Every morning I still wake with hope.

Hope that when I open the door for breakfast, Mouse will be waiting there — and beside him, finally, Timtim too.

But so far, only Mouse is there.

And Timtim is still deeply missed.