A Death in the Family

MURPH’S LAST CATPILE… earlier today.

This blog’s gonna get slow to load here for awhile.

Murph overtaken by a nap attack, chin on the footrail of our living room coffee table. About six months old, in 1992.

Around the same time, on the bottom step.

Murph and Indo liked the stairs a lot. They also seemed to like each other — they spent a lot of time together.

Toni, from comments to this post:

It’s so hard to think about how little time he has left with us….and us with him.I remember the day that he was found in a box, with his two siblings, at the back door of my office. No note. No food. Just three big kittens. I fell for Murphy, the gray and white stummpy manx. Patti took the all black manx and named him Benny and Monica took the black and white, his name became Fedora. Murphy is the only one remaining from that litter. He’ll be seventeen in the spring, shortly after my anniversary at the vet’s that I work for.

He’s always given us loads of love and has been so tolerant of other cats coming into and out of our home. It’s so hard to see him getting old and doing poorly. Thanks for all your good wishes. We’ll make sure that Murphy knows that you are thinking of him. We sure are.


An eerie shot. The first picture I took with my digital camera, back in 2004. Murph was always around to point a camera at back then. Later, he had some trouble getting around and… not so much.

Listening to…

Today, around 3:00 this afternoon, Murph had what seemed to be a stroke. He was down on the living room floor, stiff and nearly lifeless. Though he seemed to recover a bit, he was still wobbly and in some apparent pain. (If you knew how stoic cats are about pain…) We took that as a sign it was time. Toni called Dr. Tim and we met him at the clinic in Arlington Heights. Good night ol’ guy.

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