I named you Robert Redford a year before you let me near you.  You were so handsome and so independent.  You came here at 4am every single morning for your breakfast, so polite, waiting until I stepped back before you'd eat.

You brought Sammy to me when he was badly injured, standing back and letting him eat first.  Always the gentleman, you lived up to your star status name.

And then you were injured yourself.  Something had attacked you and bitten you in the throat.  You knew where to go, but you didn't get here in time.  Your injuries were too severe and the infection had set in too deep. 

So many times during those weeks I thought you were going to make it.  I was so proud of you when you were finally able to get up and walk around, and you were proud of yourself, too.  But it didn't last.

At exactly 4am, Tuesday morning,  you died in my arms.  You looked at me one last time as I rocked you and talked to you.  I was begging you not to go, but your look told me 'I have to leave now' and that final seizure took you away.

You fought the good fight, Robbie.  You gave it everything you had.  You were a life-saving hero and if there's a special place at the Rainbow Bridge for heroes, you're there.  And you'll always be here, in my heart.