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Journal EnlightenmentFan's Journal: My almost-20-year-old cat Sylvester 1

Picture a pot-bellied penguin. Or maybe a fat old British clubman in tails. Add a generous white mustache, slightly askew, as if he's had tee much martooni. That's my cat Sylvester.

I first saw him 19 years ago, lying hopeless and sad in a tiny pet-shelter cage, so his "official" Valentine's Day birthday is a fiction. He was so timid when he came home with us that he hid behind the refrigerator for 5 hours. Now he is confident of welcome in any lap of any guest. Unfortunately, he has a special liking for laps that belong to allergic guests.

Oh, I wish he would start eating all of his dinners and all of his breakfasts again. Today alone he has been offered 1) catfood, 2) chicken, and 3) a usual fail-safe, pate. He just doesn't want it. So often these days he just doesn't want it. He has been in our family so long, and he still seems so happy aside from not wanting to eat. Forgive me for posting this, but I did try to warn you with the title.

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My almost-20-year-old cat Sylvester

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  • A friend of mine is losing her dog, and I don't know how I'll get over losing my cat Jasmine. She's the best darned cat ever!

    No, seriously... she is.

"Well, it don't make the sun shine, but at least it don't deepen the shit." -- Straiter Empy, in _Riddley_Walker_ by Russell Hoban