Fir - 1995-2009

Fir has followed his litter brother to the catnip fields, nearly two months to the day. For the first time in my adult life, I am without a pet in the house. It feels strangely empty and devoid of a special energy I had not really been aware of.

Fir and Thomas were my husband's cats. I cannot imagine how bereft he must feel right now. There has been so much loss for him: his mother, his father, his brother, and now both of his cats. I who have felt so much loss have no words for him, only hugs and loving presence.

We may find out what caused Fir's final sickness. He started coughing and wheezing, and then just stopped eating. Was it kitty grief? Did he feel the loss of his brother more than we knew? I have no idea. I know he was in pain. I know his loss hurts me more than I thought it would.

Fir was one of those cats who assumed that the whole world loved him. Any stranger visiting might find him or herself catlapped, or even shouldered. He loved to drape himself over a shoulder and purr his heart out. I never felt a softer cat -- his fir was like mink, black lush mink. With his deep green eyes, and greyish white undercoat he was a sleek leopard of a cat. When he was younger he was a phenomenal leaper. We once found him on top of the floor to near ceiling bookcase. How he managed that was a puzzle we never solved.

The house is so silent now. Rest in peace, fur brothers. We miss both of you more than we can say.