Sam can't really pronounce the "f" sound all that well (unless it's in regard to the aforementioned exclamation), so his greetings to our cat Phil usually sounded like "Hiiii, Bill" and "Bye, Bill." I never noticed the cat return the greetings, but I'm sure he appreciated them.
We all said goodbye to Phil last week and he's now in Kitty Heaven, likely rolling around in the largest pile of catnip he could ever have imagined. He was an old man and, as you all know, had a nice and sometimes exciting life. Despite having only one eye and being mostly blind in it, he recently took a three-day excursion around our town, visiting a construction site and some apparent pools of motor oil before settling in at the police station. He wasn't an active cat, until it was time for vacation apparently. When we lived in Georgia, he took a several-day vacay every Christmas, despite our dedicated friend Mindi looking in on him and shelling out some food and love each and every day. He did this to her three years in a row, and never even bought her a gift.
He also made an impression on our former neighbors, who - on the day of their moving in - discovered us on the back porch wearing leather coats and oven mitts in an attempt to shave and free Phil from the tar he'd rolled in. Again. It wasn't quite so "nice" to meet us at that point. But, they came around to like us and to love Phil, and to send him home when he was meowing on the wrong porch.
Sam obviously won't remember these stories and may not remember Phil, but that cat did teach him some important life lessons. Mostly about personal space and that sharp things hurt. The "sharp" lesson was learned pretty quickly, but the "personal space" one came a little slower. Needless to say, the lessons went hand in hand. Phil was patient, though, as Sam learned what it meant to pet gently and Sam delighted in helping feed Phil and dishing out treats.
Thanks, Phil.
We love you.
