Our cat Herman had been with us so many years I had to ponder what year the calendar said he became a part of the family.

Herman was already living up the street from us when his owners, and I use that term loosely, moved away and left him behind. Anger is not strong enough of a word when it comes to those who do this.

I kept thinking surely they would come back and get him. He would be sitting on the sidewalk when I turned onto the street we live on. Patiently waiting.

For a couple of days I walked down and took him food and water. He seemed appreciative. At least we knew he wasn’t hungry.

On the third day as I started to leave food for him at the now empty house, my mind registered this thought: “Forget this. You are coming home with me.”

With that I scooped him up and we made the short walk to our house. Herman never left. Guess it shows his previous “home” wasn’t much to begin with.

As with all our pets through the years, Herman was soon off to the vet to become a new man and get all his vaccinations. It never entered my mind his former owners might return to get him. The heck with that. They never should have left him in the first place.

It was my wife who gave Herman his name. It has nothing to do with his fur color scheme, mostly light gray with some white including white feet. No, my wife enjoyed the classic television show “The Munsters,” and decided Herman would be a fitting name.

Eventually Herman became Herm and he was as faithful as a pet could be. For a while he stayed outside typically around the house or under the carport.

The older he got the less he liked winter. I guess he learned that from me. He would scratch at the door until I would open it.

One day I decided to set up a litter box for him and see if he would use or even notice it. I’ve never known exactly how cats know what a litter box is but he seemed to know and knew just what to do.

“If you do that you don’t ever have to go back out,” I told him. Herm did still enjoy going outside for a few minutes if the weather was nice.

Herm quickly took to sleeping inside in a chair or on the bed or pretty much anywhere that looked comfortable.

He had gained weight after being neutered and enjoying the good life. Of course, he never liked going ot the vet and he got to where he wasn’t a big fan of being held. Oh, he would jump on the arm of my recliner and sit there with me while I watched football or the news or a movie or classic television show.

Herm would even put his paw on my hand as if signaling to me not to get up. It got to the point I would say, “I have to get up now Herm.”

In recent months it became obvious Herm was losing weight. That’s not uncommon for cats once they age. The vet guessed he was around 15. We’ve had cats who have lived longer but that’s probably the average.

Unfortunately for Herm, he had developed cancer and his body was slowly beginning to show more and more signs. He was still eating and drinking water and he still enjoyed the company of our other cats running through the house and trying to show who was the No. 1 feline.

A couple of weeks ago I noticed his breathing has become very labored and I knew what was just on the horizon. He was due for another checkup at the vet on March 4. Herm was closer to the end that I realized. Maybe I did realize it and just didn’t want to admit it.

The vet told me he didn’t have much longer. “Maybe a month?” I asked. “Days,” she said. “If that.”

I asked the vet her honest opinion. Had the time arrived to let Herm go? I knew she would give an honest answer. Despite their love of all animals, vets aren’t personally attached to each one the way we are as owners.

“I think it is time,” she said.

With that, we stayed with Herm a few more minutes. He passed peacefully and I am not ashamed to admit this ever-aging man’s man shed several times. I’ve had to stop writing this piece multiple times in order to finish.

Like in all situations of this nature, we will eventually come to be thankful for the many years Herm was with us, he had all a cat could want. He never lacked food or vet care. All animals should be as fortunate.

In time, this will be what we lean on when remembering him. But for now, I still look for him when I get home. Things of this nature never get easier no matter how many times you go through it. Today, it just hurts. If you know, you know.

Chris Bridges is the managing editor of The Walton Tribune. Email comments about this column to chris.bridges@waltontribune.com.