* Trigger Warning: this post is about pet loss. Please skip if this topic is too distressing for you. Stay well. ❤️*
Boy, it has been tough trying to write this blog post. Every time I sit down to make an attempt, I invariably start to tear up. We all know that laptops and tears do not mix so I’ve been giving up and resolving to try again later. Why am I finding this post so hard to write? I’ll just come out and break the news. About a month ago, my beloved furry friend, Philippe, passed away unexpectedly.
Normally when I write a post like this, I have list of things I’d like to say, a general outline. I always put some level of planning into my post. But I really have no plan or structure for this post because a month ago I didn’t know I’d be writing it. Instead, I only have one objective: to remember my pet and share with all of you how special he was to me.
So, let me do what I do best. Allow me to tell you a story…
The year was 2013. It was spring time and just a few months earlier, I had participated in my first every Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) where I had written the rough draft of what would become The Sacrifice of One. I had recently discovered my love of writing. I was bright eyed and relentlessly positive about my future writing career.
Deeming myself a writer for the first time in my life and being a single woman in my early 20s, it seemed only appropriate that I should get myself a cat companion. I don’t want you to think that I woke up one day and just decided I needed a cat. I have been a cat-lover my whole life. (It might have something to do with the dog that bit me on my face when I was very young, but that’s a story for another day.)
My love of cats really started when I was 8-years-old and received a black and white kitten for my birthday. I remember clearly the day my family drove to pick up this tiny, tiny kitten. Mittens (named for the extra toes on her paws) was my little buddy. She would play with me and sleep in my bed with me, even curling up against my neck while I slept.
Mittens lived long enough to see me off to college and out of the house. Sadly, adult life took over my attention, but I had a chance to say my final goodbye to Mittens before she died. Over the years, I took it upon myself to adopt several stray cats that appeared around my parent’s house. The most notable being an insanely fluffy, orange kitten that I named Peaches. Yes, very original, I know. I like to think that my naming abilities have improved since becoming an author
But Peaches passed away, and again adult life took over. I moved out of my parent’s house and in 2013 found myself pet-less, a condition I didn’t care for. So that spring I took a trip to the local Humane Society under the guise that “I was just looking!”. I truly had the intention to look at a couple of shelters and find the pet that was right for me.
I held only one other cat before laying eyes on Philippe. He was this small cat, only a few months old, and he literally stuck his paw out of the cage to reach out to me. My heart melted! The Humane Society worker opened up his cage and I scooped Philippe into my arms. He snuggled right up to me and I knew the hunt was over.
You know that cliché saying about the pet choosing the owner instead of the other way around? That’s truly how it was with Philippe. He really wanted to be adopted so he put on a cute face and reached out to me between those metal, cage bars. And dang it, it worked!
I took Philippe home shortly after that and he became my first adult pet. During those early years, Philippe claimed his position as my writing companion. I would often right on my bed in those days and Philippe loved sitting between my legs while I had my laptop in front of me. He would supervise every word I wrote and even give me the classic disappointed cat stare from time to time.
There were numerous times that I was trying to write and Philippe didn’t like that. He wanted my attention to be on him. He knew just what to do to get me to stop typing and love on him instead.
Philippe was with me as I published The Faintly Beating Heart, The Sacrifice of One, and The Bear Gap Rebels. In fact, The Sacrifice of One is even dedicated to him. That’s how integral he was to my writing process. If I had a dollar for every writing-related picture I have with him in it, let’s just say, I wouldn’t be working full time…
Philippe was with me as I fell in love, married, and moved into a new apartment with my husband. Like most cats, Philippe wasn’t much of a traveler. I remember making sure I had medicine to give him before driving him the 45min to our new apartment and officially moving him in.
Then COVID-19 hit and frankly, Philippe couldn’t have been happier because that meant his favorite human was suddenly home a lot more. In 2020 I wrote The Dark Ruler and my habit at that time was to write on a big, Lazyboy chair. It has a nice, thick arm rest that Philippe loved to sit on and watch me write.
Our comfy little life in that apartment would come to an end when my husband and I made the decision to move to Memphis, TN. This was a long way from Pennsylvania and definitely more than a 45min drive. I was seriously stressed about taking Philippe on this journey, but there was no way I was leaving him behind.
Surprisingly, Philippe did pretty well on the 2-day journey to Tennessee. In fact, he would make that journey two more times when we went home for Christmas break. Some of my stress about making that move went away. Philippe was happy in our new home and we went back to our habit of him being nearby while I wrote or worked. In Memphis, Philippe liked to jump up on my desk and insert himself right into whatever I was doing.
That’s actually exactly what he did a few days before he died. It was the last time he acted normal. I was sitting at my writer desk, pumping out words for The Crimson Witch. I was feeling great about my book. I had just done a week-long sprint of writing as much as possible and I was so proud of myself for how much progress I had made.
I was so focused on my book, that I really didn’t take too much note of Philippe sitting next to me on my desk that morning. But I do recall pausing my work, petting him with both hands, and kissing him on the head before returning to my writing.
By that afternoon Philippe wasn’t acting right. I rushed him to the emergency vet and that was the beginning of the end, although I didn’t quite know it yet. Philippe was initially misdiagnosed but when he didn’t improve over the next couple of days, I took him back to the vet very early that Tuesday morning. That’s when they informed me that Philippe was in kidney failure. A mere 12 hours later Philippe had passed away.
A beautiful painting that a writer friend of mine made when she heard of Philippe’s passing. It sits on my writer desk now.
It was all very unexpected and devastating. Philippe was only 11 years old. I expected that I’d have him around for at least a few more years. Needless to say, I haven’t had much interest in writing since his passing. My hope is that this tribute will help me find my passion once again.
A lesson I’ve learned through all of this is that pets truly become family. Although I’ve had other pets in my life, there was something special about the time in my life that Philippe was with me. He was the best furry writing buddy anyone could ask for and I miss him terribly. But I’m blessed and grateful for the time I had with him.
Does my story remind you of your own pet? Maybe a pet you lost recently or long ago. Feel free to comment below and tell me about your furry friend.
Until next time,
P.S. Don’t forget to download your 100% free eBook copy of The Sacrifice of One, book #1 in the Camilla Crim series.
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