Pharwell to Phoebe

Our cat, Phoebe, went to be with St. Francis last night. There is much sadness and woe in our house. Please speak softly.

I am grateful to the lovely woman sitting next to me in the vet's office, who asked about my sick kitty and didn't laugh at me when I started bawling. I'm grateful to the vet and nurse who were absolute angels through the whole thing. I'm grateful to The Neighbor who came down to be with me because The Child was too distraught and The Spouse wasn't yet home. Phoebe went very quickly and peacefully. She was ready.

But now I want to tell stories about her.

The Child was 3 when we bought our house. One afternoon we were sitting in our apartment and she started asking questions about the new house.

"When we have new house, I take my toys?"

"Yes."

"When we have new house, I take all my books?"

"Yes."

"When we have new house, I have my room?"

"Yes, you'll have your very own room". (Not the glorified closet in which she slept).

Her eyes got big and shiny. "Mommy, when we have new house I get a doggie and a kitty?"

"Yes, we can have pets in the new house".

"In new house me have a doggie named Puppy and a kitty named Phoebe!"

And so it was, when we stumbled on some children giving away free kitties at the Market that we selected a girl kitty. She was already named.

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When we got kitty home The Child was beyond exuberant. And it was freaking out The Cat, who escaped from The Child's too loving embrace and ran to hide behind the washing machine. The Child was beside herself, thinking kitty had rejected her, so The Spouse took her off to play as a distraction. I went into the family room to watch cooking shows. After about an hour the little thing came strolling in. I picked her up and held her. She fell asleep on my chest and then I fell asleep, too. The Spouse and Child found us like that some time later and kitty, no longer quite so freaked, got acquainted with The Child. I would never suggest that Phoebe loved me best, but from that first cozy nap she knew I was her mommy.

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That first Thanksgiving we had gone down to Portland to celebrate. Seattle Coffee Girl came to watch the house and kitty. When she met us at the train station she was a bit distraught as she had not seen the cat since she first arrived at the house. We got home and there was Phoebe on the front porch. (This would be her MO for the next 10 years, taking off whenever anyone came to the house. For years no one knew we had a cat because they never saw her. Only in this last year has she stuck around when there are visitors). Much relieved, SCG went home and I sent The Child to get ready for bed, as it was very late.

She came back out of her room and said, "Mommy, Phoebe peed on my bed". I went in, annoyed of course, to discover that Phoebe hadn't merely peed. She had been using The Child's bed as a litter box the entire time we were gone. And the cat, I swear, stood there and looked at me as if to say, "Dude, I totally thought you were never ever coming back and I swear to God I would never have done something so disgusting if I had thought you'd be coming back. I promise I'll never ever do this again". And until this last turn, she never did.

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Phoebe was the worlds greatest hunter. That cat could pull birds out of midflight. I fear we will now be over run by rodents, as she cleared out anything that came near our house. She beat up cats twice her size. She was fierce.

One day The Child and I were playing in her room, rolling a ball back and forth. The ball went under the bed and The Child crawled under to retrieve it. "What's this?" she said, batting something out toward me. She came back out with the ball and was covered in little downy feathers. I investigated and the "that" she'd encountered was the head of a small bird.

It was only the first of many treasures The Cat would bring into the house to display. She took to leaving dead birds in front of the living room door - on the inside of the house, mind you - for us to admire. There was a patch there where every single morning we would wake up to find a dead bird in the house. One morning I got up to discover a little chalk outline of a bird. The Spouse had cleaned the remains but he wanted me to know a crime had been committed. (Funny, funny Spouse). We put a bell on her. Then we added a second. But that cat was so stealthy that she could move without ringing her bells. If she really wanted to take something down, she'd do it.

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One night The Spouse and I were watching the telly and Phoebe came into the house at a rush. Shortly afterwards, a mouse ran into the family room and behind the TV. Phoebe came in, looking pissed. She couldn't get at the mouse so she left and The Spouse and I just closed the door and walked away, hoping to deal with it later. The next morning there was no sign of the mouse so we figured he'd gotten lucky.

That night we were lying in bed when we heard a fearful scuffle and shriek and then nothing. The Cat came into our room, went under the bed and started making dining noises. "Oh, no you don't!" shouted The Spouse and he got up, drug her and her prize out from under the bed and put her outside.

We were very proud of her, of course, but one has limits.

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She was a beautiful cat. She had gorgeous green eyes and the prettiest face of any kitty I ever saw. She was aloof and entirely cat-possessed but when she wanted to let you love her, she was all purrs and nuzzles. Yesterday, as I held her in my lap, she was too weak to do anything but lie there but once in a while she'd lift her head and gently tap her nose against my arm, giving me the last of her kitty loves. It made me happy to know that even as she was leaving us she still wanted me to know that I was her mommy and she loved me.

I feel very silly sitting here, crying again about my cat but there it is. She was a good kitty. She loved catnip. She hated The Dog. "Smelly Cat" was her favorite song. She adored fish. She will be missed.

Phoebe Cat, Spring 1997-December 11, 2007

Rest in Peace, Kitty