Friday, January 30, 2009


Becky had Phil put to sleep Wednesday afternoon. He was eighteen, and his body simply gave out from old age. I met him when he was six, and lived with him for five years when Beck and I were married. I knew him for twelve years in total. He was quite simply one of the best cats I've ever known.

When my first and most beloved cat Giskard died, Phil went out of his way to comfort me, crawling in my lap and purring, running to me when I was crying. He was a good boy. He was a good companion to his fellow cat and lifelong friend Paz. He was mellow, usually in a good mood, and always a good sport with the wild kittens he had to endure in his winter years. He would have made a good dad. Indeed, I feel like he was something of a mentor to my cat Frankie when he was little.

I'll always love him.

Farewell, Phil. The world is a lesser place for your absence.