Mildred Ann "Annie" Ritter, a spirited lover of beauty, laughter, friendship, and four-legged companions, passed away peacefully in her sleep on November 29, 2025, in Salt Lake City, Utah, following a long and resilient battle with chronic kidney disease. She was 83.

Born June 17, 1942, in Spotsylvania, Virginia, to Cary Nelson Allhiser and Edna Virginia Wheeler, Annie was the eldest of six girls — Peggy, Jeanne, Judy, Donna, and Janet — a role she filled with equal parts mischief, audacity, and fierce independence. From the beginning, Annie was no ordinary girl. She grew up fast, loved deeply, took risks boldly, and rarely cared much for convention.

She married young — too young, by most standards — and her early years took her from Virginia to Florida, where she married William "Bill" Ritter in 1962 after moving with her father. Their union was brief but formative, setting her on the path to the life she would eventually make her own. Annie later married Charles Fischer in 1973 in Los Angeles, California, forging a life she loved in the city she adored.

Los Angeles embraced her, and she embraced it right back. She built her life there as a single woman — no small feat at the time — forging friendships in Hollywood circles, attending parties beneath twinkling lights, and holding her own among film industry insiders and artists. Annie worked in a range of fields throughout her life, including as a travel agent and financial planner, reinventing herself many times over with her signature grit and flair.

She was a patron of life's finer joys: opera, Broadway shows, museums, French food, a good glass of wine, and sunlit beaches. She exercised and gardened, traveled widely, and — most of all — she adored animals. Annie rescued countless dogs and cats over the years, and as family often joked, even ducks were welcome. Supporting animal shelters and humane causes became one of her lifelong passions.

After her marriage to Charles Fischer ended in 1974, she purchased her beloved home on La Jolla Avenue in West Hollywood in 1978 — where she lived for decades, creating memories with friends, family members, and a revolving door of pets. She dated a few well-known personalities along the way, including Happy Hairston of the LA Lakers, but her most meaningful long-term relationship was with Carl Scholze, with whom she shared many years until his passing in the early 2000s.

Annie later purchased a cherished condo in Palm Springs where she and Carl frequented escapes with their pets. Palm Springs became a second home — filled with long walks, laughter, shared wine, and sun-washed memories. She also developed a deep affection for golf; while she rarely played, Saturdays were sacred — disturb Annie during a tournament at your own risk.

Annie welcomed family over the years — sometimes for visits, sometimes to live alongside her — and she relished their presence even as she fiercely guarded her independence.

In July 2025, after significant health challenges including kidney disease and a stroke, Annie moved to Draper, Utah to be closer to family. She spent her final months under the compassionate care of Ashford Assisted Living, Lone Peak Hospital, Intermountain Healthcare, and previous physicians at Cedars-Sinai. Her family expresses deep gratitude to all who supported her through those final chapters.

Annie is survived by her sisters Peggy, Jeanne, Judy, Donna, and Janet; by lifelong friends across California and beyond; and by her beloved pets who preceded her. She was preceded in death by her partner Carl Scholze; her mother Edna (2004); and her father Cary (2006). She had no children, but she "adopted" many — including the family members, neighbors, and animals who were lucky enough to know her.

True to her free spirit, Annie's cremated remains are being sent to her dear friend Richard Zirn in Palm Springs, who will fulfill her wish of being scattered on the hillside she loved visiting — a place full of memories, humor, and sunshine.

To honor Annie, donations may be made in her name to any animal shelter, humane society, or cause supporting homeless animals — a tribute she would surely approve of, preferably with a glass of wine in hand.

Annie lived life on her terms — bold, curious, loving, imperfect, unforgettable.

She was the kind of woman who could walk into a room full of strangers and walk out with friends.

She was fun.

She was free.

And she will be deeply missed.