This is my cat, Filo. We got him when I was 5 because we thought our other cat, Gilly, wasn't going to survive being mauled by our dog. She ended up pulling through, so we had two cats, and got rid of the dog. Everyone thought he was ugly as a kitten, but he grew into a handsome cat. When my mom and stepdad divorced, Filo came with us and Gilly stayed with him. Last year, I had to have him put to sleep. He was definitely a very old man cat - almost 18 years old. He'd been wearing out gradually, but he was okay until the very last weekend. I wussed out and didn't stay for him to get the shot. I still think about it and wish I'd given him that.
My childhood was a little rocky, and Filo was my only constant. I remember telling a boyfriend I couldn't imagine loving a man more than I loved my cat. He'd let me hold him when I was upset and cry in his fur. When he was younger, he was very active and curious. He'd put a paw on your hand while you were eating and pull it down so he could sniff your fork. He wouldn't eat any; he just wanted to know what it was. He loved to sit in boxes. When we moved, I'd set aside a shoebox, and he'd ride in that on my lap instead of having to go in a cat crate. Filo was the best pet a girl could want.
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