She was a funny little quirky thing. There are things I will never forget -- how she "chose" me, how she claimed the soft spots in my lap for her resting places, how she climbed up behind my neck when we drove alone somewhere, how she ran full out to visit the neighbors, throwing her legs out in all directions and yet managing to cover the ground in front of her.
She was afraid of everything and nothing - she charged full out at any intruder and with great bluff and bluster tried to frighten them away from her family and yard. And her family was whomever she was with on any given day.
She was crazy - everyone said so - She wouldn't chase the squirrels or wildlife but tried to run down golf carts and big people. She would go outside and find a sunny place in the yard and stretch and roll and lie there soaking the sun into her black fur, then come back to my chair and beg to be picked up and held for hours on end.
She waited patiently to be lifted into bed at night and snuggled with her feet on my back and pushed herself up close to Mike to dream. She licked her paws, the porch, the driveway, my face, incessantly. She finally let Dean and Pat pick her up in her later years, deciding after nearly 8 years that they probably were friendly, not foe. She would tolerate Dean's lap if he held a treat in his hands, knowing that once he'd fed her, she could hop down and return to the safe lap.
She was quite a queen and after 4+ months, we still look for her when we come home from shopping trips. I still expect her to run out the back door into the garage when I arrive home, crying and gasping about how long I've been away - racing up and down the hallway as I carry in my luggage and change clothes, yelping her dismay at the length of time she must be patient.
Pharewell Phoebe - you have ruined us all for wanting another pet to love. None could replace you.
