It was sudden, but in a way, it was expected. You had been getting steadily worse and weren't improving. They kept saying that you wouldn't last the year. I ignored them, wanting to keep you here until the last possible second, but of course you didn't notice. You kept stalking around the house, keeping your distance, especially from the dog, and didn't look happy unless you were napping in the sun.
I remember when you were small enough to fit in my father's hand (I, like you, was still young and small then) and you looked so frail, but so soft and adorable. To think that tiny frame had withstood the hardships of abandonment and neglect at the side of a road.
In the last few years, when I uncovered my artistic knack, I took advantage of your adorable and elegant face and snapped hundreds of pictures of your lethargic form. You were shy at first, but little by little, you came to tolerate my camera's constant presence.
Now, with all of these reminders I don't know what to do with myself