RIP Murphy, 1992(?) - 2008

Today I lost a good friend, and now I'll take the time to remember him. His name was Murphy.

Murphy, like a lot of kitties that find us, just walked up to the back porch one day and demanded attention. He looked around, liked what he saw, and began an intense lobbying campaign to become an indoor kitty. He liked to serenade us at night (and this was after he was fixed) so we knew he would be a good watch cat. When we moved our bedroom to the second floor, he figured out how to get up on the roof and would continue his vocal vigil, perched on the window air conditioner outside our bedroom, content in the knowledge that we knew he was out there.

During that summer, my Sweetie discovered Murphy laying on the guest bed. She had no idea how he got in, but figured that he'd slipped in when one of us had gone in or out. So she put him out... only to find him splayed on the guest bed again later that afternoon. Seems he'd discovered a loose screen on an open window and availed himself of the guest quarters, confident we'd treat him like the royalty he was.

Murphy finally lost a "frank exchange of views" with another outdoor creature and was laid up inside to heal for a while (while we worked to pay his vet bill). When the time came to go back out, my Sweetie opened the door and pointed the way for him - and he promptly screamed and ran back into the house. He was an inside kitty then, see. No more of that outside business.

Murphy always loved my beard, and let me know that he was not as much in love when there was no beard. He'd rub his nose into my whiskers and sometimes lick them if he thought I hadn't cleaned thoroughly enough after dinner. His tongue was rougher than my stubble could ever be, and there were a few times he served as an un-ignorable "rub" alarm on mornings when he thought I should be up. Now.

Murphy did love to be between my Sweetie and me as we went to bed at night; having multiple hands for petting & loving was the best! And he would purr loudly enough to let us know his deep appreciation. His purring was definitely a great sound to go to sleep to.

Purring wasn't his only vocalization; he talked to himself, carrying on conversations from room to room sometimes... probably wondering aloud what the hell we thought we were doing, not petting him or something. Murph was pretty much the mellowest cat I've known, with the tiniest of exceptions regarding either toenail clipping or fur brushing (for more than .25 of a minute with a real brush instead of the hand). Those few neighborhood kids we knew loved Murphy, 'cause he never chided them for playing with him or dragging him around. He was always loving to just about anyone, even showing patience with the idiocy of dogs.

So here's to Murphy; we loved you and loved the fact you wanted to hang out as long as you did with the gang here. We'll miss you.

Yeah, he really loved that sofa.