Monday September 12 my parents made the hard decision to put down our beloved 18 year old cat, Taz.
I’m sad – definitely sad. It’s the end of an era – the Tazzy Era. At 18 years old that cat has seen SO MANY THINGS. He lived with us for so many years – and in that time hunted countless animals, snoozed in a million sunbeams, and even had his jaw wired shut for a time (!!) after what we, years later, suspected happened after he fell from a tree.
And trees. Taz was a little monkey – after moving to Arlington in 2000 he had the perfect tree-climbing front yard where two trees faced each other and Tazzy, the Tasmanian devil that he was, would SHOOT out from the brush, rush up the tree, pause (we can only presume he suddenly realized OH SHIT) shot back down, across the front walk, and right up the other tree. Not even exaggerating.
He was a crazy-man alright, but as with any cat he had his soft spots for sunbeams and, well, soft spots. We also felt the need to compare him to melted cheese in the summer – that cat would liiiiiiiiieee outside for the ENTIRE day. Or, as it got chilly, contentedly watch from the big front window.
Taz had an amazing life, there is absolutely no doubt about that. He saw our family through good times and hard times, saw it change and grow. We moved houses – his human sisters grew up, moved out and began their own furry families. Even though he passed in the most peaceful way imaginable, in his home, on his blankie, even though he’s completely pain free, I’m still sad.
The Tazzy Era had a good, long run.
I have soooo many pictures of this cat — I chose a handful that I loved and put some up on Flickr – you can see them here.