One look into his beautiful blue eyes, and his name became obvious. Frank was our dog-cat. He was a very handsome Siamese mix; a rather large boy who weighed about 18 lbs when he was full grown. He was delivered to us at home by a stray who’d adopted us about 6 weeks prior.

Frank would follow me everywhere, he’d come running across the yard at full speed when I called his name, and he would sleep with us every night stretched out full length beside me, completely relaxed. He was our constant companion, going everywhere with us, including several vacations to the San Juan Islands on our classic cruiser.

My husband had never been a “cat person” until Frank. Frank and he bonded one day when Frank’s mother decided to bring a still-alive large mouse into our kitchen. She dropped it onto the floor, then ran to her own food dish as if to say, “Here, I brought your something to eat. While you work on this, I’ll go finish the stuff in my food dish.” The mouse sat there stunned for only a moment, then disappeared behind the breakfast counter. Knowing that Frank was an experienced mouser who loved to catch mice out in our field, I found Frank and brought him into the kitchen. He zeroed in almost immediately on the mouse who had run up the leg of a stool. Frank sprung into action, chasing the mouse around the kitchen, out into the living room, down the stairway and into the basement behind the bar. After a couple of minutes of crashing and squeaking, Frank emerged with the deceased mouse. Karl suddenly had a new appreciation for Frank and they became bonded friends for the rest of his life with us.

We lost Frank on January 18, 2008. He’d gone outside for his usual morning exercise, but that day he didn’t come back as usual. I called and called for him, but he never came. I began to sense that something was wrong, so I went looking for him. I walked around the outside of the house calling his name and, as I rounded the house by the carport where we stored our motorhome, I heard him meow in response. I looked under the motorhome and saw him laying there, but he wouldn’t get up to come to me. My nephew happend to be visiting at the time, so he crawled under the motor home to retrieve Frank. When he brought Frank out, we discovered why he hadn’t come out on his own. Frank had evidently suffered a catastrophic stroke that had paralyzed his hindquarters. His body was completely cold from the midsection all the way down. We rushed him to our vet, but since his circulation had been completely cut off from the middle of his spine, there was no hope in saving him and we had to put him down that terrible day. I don’t know how he’d managed to drag himself under the motorhome, but he did and had managed to stay alive until I was able to find him. We’re so thankful for the 10 years we had with him and I still miss him so much.

— Lois from Shelton, WA