He came to us when he was 8. His family needed to move and they couldn’t take him along. He was a fighter and they weren’t sure how long he would live.
He would fight and recover. He would disappear. He would be gone and just about the time we thought he was gone forever, he would reappear.
Each year he lived we felt blessed.
Each winter would get harder on him. We would think it was his last.
He turned 19 last spring and finally showed signs of slowing down. He didn’t leave the yard and his favorite spot was wherever the sun was shining. If the dryer was on, he could be found under the vent warming himself.
Winter was rough. We wanted him to stay in the garage to be warm. He hated being cooped up.
And then one day, he was gone.
We think that he wandered off and it was so very cold that he just couldn’t make it back home.
Disappeared. And missed by all. Just sayin’.