RIP Argie -- May 12, 1992 - January 16, 2008

First born of his litter, Argie was the most strongly-willed cat I've ever known -- and the most affectionate.

For the years of his life that he was an outdoor cat, Argie was cock-of-the-walk and he fought large dogs and won. He hunted many birds and chased many butterflies, not content with the annoying restrictions of gravity. He survived the antifreeze poisoning that took all but one other member of his feline family, but contended with the resulting kidney damage for the last five years of his life.

Once indoors, Argie calmed down into an affectionate yet still aggressive cat, always hogging both food and petting away from his sisters. At night he would stand purring on my chest and touch my face with his paw whenever he wanted me to stroke his face, which was all the time. He would curl up between Lisa and me, nose-to-nose with me on the pillow, paws making little biscuits on my neck while he purred. He would wait for me while I showered, then yell at me when I got out of the tub, and calm down only after I gave him a good cuddle. Argie was the cat who would, against all conventional wisdom, eat leftover vegetables from a plate. He pawed the surface of water before drinking it, in the same instinctive fashion as his much larger jungle-dwelling kin.

In the end he weakened and stopped eating. He layed comfortably in his personal spot in the closet as his breathing became more and more shallow, then finally stopped. I found him that way this morning, head resting comfortably on one of my shirts the way he liked, stretched out to fill the space that was his alone.

Argie, we layed you to rest in the flower garden where you will be among sunshine and beauty. Later that day the first snow of winter blanketed your grave, and all around you was soft and quiet and new. It was a good day to die.

Though you may rest in peace, you will always live on in our hearts and memories.

We love you, Argie Boy.