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I had hoped she would make it one more spring, but it was clear her little body was at the end of a very long fight with feline leukemia.
We adopted Annie in 2021 from a local shelter.
Her age was somewhere between two and five.
From the start, she was independent, feisty, and no one’s pet.
In her first week here she gave my daughter a scar, and every vet appointment after that ended in blood from someone.
She never pretended to be easy.
I wish I could remember a healthy Annie.
She got sick not long after we brought her home, and the illness became the backdrop of her whole life with us.
Medications, appointments, careful watching.
That was our normal.
In a house full of other animals she sometimes got lost in the shuffle.
She was a quiet girl, usually off on her own, perfectly content to stay in her corner of the world.
But she had five years of having a family.
Five years of ear rubs.
Five years of churros.
Five years of being loved, even if she accepted it on her own terms.
Go rest now, Annabelle Winifred.
Your fight is over.