Summer came to live with us when she was six weeks old. That was 17 years ago. She was a Siamese/Himalayan mix with a gorgeous thick coat of fur. She talked. She would come into a room where I was and start talking to me. Of course, being a talker myself, I answered back.
She quickly became my cat. She was grumpy and "catty" with the others in the family, but she loved me. She tolerated the other pets that came and went, never hesitating to let them know who the boss was.
June 2017
Summer started showing her age a couple of years ago and really deteriorated the past year. This past weekend we realized that it was selfish of us to let her keep living in her deteriorated state. She was down to 8 1/2 lbs and cried a lot. We made the very tough decision on have her put down yesterday.
Of course, I cried. It is so hard to make those decisions, yet we are their caretakers and our pets count on us to care for them even with the tough choices. I will miss her terribly. Especially her talking to me, sleeping next to me on the bed, lying beside me as I stitch.
Summer is my last cat. That is a little hard to wrap my head around. But at the age of 61 I don't feel I can make a 20 year (indoor cats live an avg of 18-22 years) commitment to a new cat.
The next few days will sad, but I have 17 years of memories of this sweet girl.
