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Today, Jenny and I had to put our cat Tucker to sleep. He was about 17 years old. We got him when I was in elementary school in Maryland, when I was 10 (jeez). I took him from my parents when they moved to Pennsylvania because they weren't sure he would make the move.

We took good care of him while we had him, but time is relentless. He slowly lost his sight. After a while, he stopped being able to jump up on the couch or bed. But he was still such a sweet cat, always quick to purr and cuddle.

In November, he suffered a saddle thrombus (blood clot at the base of the spine) which cut off the use of his rear legs. I took him into the vet, prepared -- if not really ready -- to euthanize him. But she said that he was not in pain and would probably get over it and regain the ability to walk within a week or so. But he would not have long to live: three to six months.

After that, we cared for him as best we could. While he soon could move his back legs again, he was never able to walk without stumbling. He lost weight. Still, he was the sweetest cat I've ever known.

Yesterday, he relapsed, but he was much weaker. We knew it was time.

We'll miss you, Tucker.