My cat died this morning at about 11:30. I've owned her for 17 years, I'm turning 22 in a little over a month meaning I've had her since I was five. I have a horrendous memory and usually can't remember what I had for breakfast, but I still remember all the important stuff about Silver. From the first time I saw her I knew she was going to be mine, even though the first time I held her she bit me and headed for the hills; it took us an hour to convince her to come back out to us. I was the only one she ever really allowed herself to be picked up by and she always had a way of making me feel better, whether I was sick or depressed, but I couldn't make her get better and that's what's killing me.

Thanks for any thoughts.

-Vester