Tasha at thirteen

Tasha had a birthday today. She is thirteen.

We don’t know that to be the case. (Apologies to those of you who have seen me tell this story so many times before.) We brought her home from the shelter on November 1, All Saints’ Day, 2005. We immediately made an appointment with our vet who told us that she thought Tasha was about a year and a half. Given that, we decided to designate her birthday as May 1, my late, beloved Grandma Monaghan’s birthday. So May 1, 2006 we said she was two. That means that today she is thirteen by our calculations.

Tasha is a very young, healthy thirteen. She is busy, active, and happy. She has a lot of energy. She demands her walks twice a day and insists that we stick to our routine. If it’s 6:30 pm, she reminds me that it is time for me to go into the kitchen and fix dinner. She still jumps up on our bed in the evening.

I think that Tasha may have understood one of the conversations that Terry and I were having about her age. Last Monday she casually trotted into the bedroom with something in her mouth and nonchalantly dropped it on the floor. It was a newly dead mouse. Our fearless hunter still!

We’re delighted that Tasha is doing so well and is such an integral part of our lives.