We put one of my cats to sleep today.

We adopted Whiskers after one of our other cats passed away, due to a congenital heart defect. The cat that died was my brother's, so he chose the replacement.

For the first few months we had him, not only would Whiskers not leave the bedroom we placed him in, he wouldn't even come out from under the bed. The only way we knew he was moving at all was the fact that some food was missing and the litter box had been used.

One day, when we were sitting in the living room, Whiskers' head appeared from behind the wall alongside the staircase. As soon as he made eye contact, he sprinted back upstairs, under his bed.

To say he gradually overcame that fear is an understatement. Whiskers was, hands-down, the sweetest guy in the world. He was totally not down with people picking him up. But if you sat down for a few seconds, he would jump onto your lap and act like you were lifelong friends, purring, cuddling and snuggling.

Save when someone tried to shove him into a cat carrier, I don't recall him ever biting, clawing or hissing in the fifteen years we had him.

Whiskers hated riding in the car, and loved bird watching on our screened-in porch.

He was always a slim cat, but in his later years he got thinner and started greying. By the past week, he was just about skin and bones, and it was time.

Goodbye Whiskers. I love you.

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