This past week I had my cat of 13 years (she was 16), Spree, put to sleep. She had terminal cancer -- a nasal tumor that couldn't be cut out or shrunk for good.

She'd beat the odds, surviving radiation treatments last winter to provide some relief. But the symptoms had returned. I knew it'd be a matter of time and the time would come. I had to wait for it to show up and to know the difference.

I had my vet come to the house to euthanize her. Most vets will do that, in case you don't know. So you don't have to take your pet in to the office. Later this week I received a nice hand-written note from the Cherrydale staff that also contained a brochure and the news that they'd made a memorial donation in Spree's name to the AKFCCC, which is an area charity that provides care to pets who belong to elderly folks who are ill or dying. It was entirely unexpected and a wonderful gesture.

I have grieved. I wasn't sure how I'd feel. I have little moments. As a friend said, she was a friend and a roommate. And that's very true. She was here all the time and now she's not.

I know there'll be another feline friend in the future. For now, Spree's beds and bowls are cleaned up and packed up.

Spree, goodbye and thanks for all the fish.