Eulogy for Chipiski and Edgar
Like most good experiences, it has to end whether we like it or not. It’s not necessarily because there’s a villain behind the works that wants the happy streak to end, although you’d be excused if you were to think of it that way.
No—it ends because it’s bound to, like how nature has its laws of decay and entropy. In this case, being with Eddie was almost always a good experience.
Edgar, safe to say, had loved us the way no other cats did, despite witnessing first hand the horrors of this world at the onset.
And we had loved him back, of course. There’s no other choice but to reciprocate the feeling. We hope that he felt that just as much as we felt his.
When we brought Chips to the vet for the last time, I told the doctor that he’s the neighborhood cat. And that’s true—Chipiski could never settle down in one place. We often joked how he’s our own barangay tanod, and on days that he’s gone, it’s because he’s making the regular security rounds, checking what’s up in the neighborhood. He would come back much later, usually with fresh cuts, probably from a recent altercation with an alley cat.
When we lived in Antipolo for almost three years, we brought all the animals with us, except Chips. At the time when we’re moving out, we couldn’t find him. We decided to leave Chips behind, knowing he could fend for himself.
And so he did. We like to believe that he looked after the house in those years we’re gone. It seemed like he did, as a true neighborhood watch would.
We would come back to the house from Antipolo for good to find Chipiski still waiting for us.
How do we put into words the grief we feel and experience when a beloved family passes away? What great impact warm furry balls can do to our hearts?
We miss the days when we walk home and see at the corner of the street the familiar faces of Chipiski and Edgar being curious and free beings. I would greet them by calling their names and they would turn to look and acknowledge my presence. Most of the time, Chipiski would just look and only come home when he felt like it. Edgar, on the other hand, would be walking along with us and wait to be petted after we enter the gate.
If we arrive and they’re inside the lot, Edgar and Pablo would be the welcoming committee.
In spite of his independent personality, Chipiski was a sweet mush on the inside. Like Edgar, he was chill with most things. But Edgar was more than the average cat; he was sociable and wanted attention from everyone. He was not shy to be a lap cat and a sleeping buddy.
We are thankful that Edgar and Chipiski need not suffer from their illnesses anymore. They are the sweetest boy cats we had and it is devastating to have them both gone just a few weeks apart.
Both will always be remembered. Life is a bit duller without them in it.
We love you Chipiski and Edgar, our warm furry animals. We miss you both everyday.
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