Frazier passed away last night at the age of 18—almost 19. He'd become pretty frail over the past several months, but he remained active, otherwise healthy, and always hungry. A couple of days ago, he took a rapid downturn, and we knew the end could not be long coming.
Back in 2007, he showed up on our doorstep (as have most of our cats who became our cats) and wouldn't go away. The little girl next door started calling him Frazier, and the name stuck. He fit right in with Dusty and Chester, our other two fuzzies, and it wasn't long before he and Chester became inseparable best friends.
Frazier and I developed a strong bond immediately, and it reached the point where I could scarcely move from one room to another without tripping over him. He helped me write (I constantly had to edit cat words out of my manuscripts), watched TV with me, and slept on top of me. In late 2012, Droolie arrived on the scene, and—unlike with Chester—the two of them didn't do much bonding. However, every morning, they'd mock-wrestle in the kitchen as I prepared their breakfasts, while Chester circled like a referee in a wrestling ring.
Dusty passed away in 2013 and Chester in 2015, leaving me with Frazier and Droolie, who got along, but only just. In 2021, Ms. B. moved into the house with her three boys—Moose, Ralph, and Rufus—and this created a new, very tumultuous dynamic. No one trusted anyone, cat fights became more commonplace, and our respective kitties strengthened their bonds with their original people. Eventually, a somewhat uneasy peace broke out. After poor little Ralph passed away from congestive heart failure in 2023, the cat world settled into a still-uneasy but generally less agitated state.
Through it all, Frazier remained essentially unfazed. The most mellow of the bunch, he continued his sweet, friendly ways, and even as an older cat, he became more and more playful. Oftentimes, usually at night, I'd hear this loud, long wailing noise ringing out of the darkness, which at first alarmed me. Then I found out that Frazier had simply found a cat toy and was announcing to the world, "I GOT IT! I GOT IT! I GOT IT!" Whenever we had visitors—whether friends, a plumber, an HVAC service guy, a painter, an electrician, or what have you—all the other cats ran and hid, but Frazier always trotted out to say, "HI! I'M FRAZIER!"
When it was clear that Frazier's health was declining, I made a special point to spend as much time with him as possible; it felt like every day we had together was a gift. I truly believe he knew how much both Ms. B. and I loved him. On his last day, he made a strenuous effort to get up on the bed beside me, and that is where he spent his final hours.
Since my elementary school days, I have lived with and lost many animals, and I have loved every one of them dearly; Frazier, though, was a particularly special little guy, and I will miss him with all my heart for the rest of my days.
