It's hard to be the one who decides, but yesterday was the day I had to have Nanda put to sleep. I wish she could have had one more day of lying in the sun, but it was time. She was nearly seventeen, and couldn't walk or eat too well, though she still purred just fine, which made it harder. Yeats, Cleo, Carlos, and now Nanda-la: all the cats I moved into my house with are gone. But I have my baby Smilla, only four!, who makes me laugh and is so solid and good to hold.