my mother called tonight to let me know she was putting my cat to sleep.

Perhaps I should call him my former cat, though he will always belong to my heart. Shadow was a Russian Blue I saved from animal control, back what seems a life time ago. He was eight when I got him, and that was in 1995. He would have been twenty three in December.

This cat was like a person, more than any other cat I've ever had. He had his own personality, voiced his oppinion, and greeted each day with enthusiasm.

The last few years he'd been slowing down. It wasn't amazing to us, for a cat he was getting rather old and we already knew he had arthritis.

He was moving around less and less and his feet were swelling so he didn't want to walk or jump anymore.

Tests revealed that he was having complications from diabetes and his limbs were swelling. Insulin treatments were not something my mother could feasibly afford long term for a cat that would still not be entirely comfortable with life even with the injections. So they opted to put him to sleep.

I'm fine with this, he was very happy with them, and well cared for. This was a kinder fate than him getting hit by a car as a stray or something.

my folks took the cat after I went through a series of moves into places that didn't allow pets. Then when I had a place where I could have pets again, they'd grown too attached for me to reclaim him.

The joke has long been that my mother's house is really 'kitty acres retirement home for good cats'.

so goodbye Shadow, I'll miss you, you loved me well and loyally, and always brought me comfort when I was troubled. Be careful where you swing that baton you call a tail in the after life big fella.

'K'