
Phil
Phil, also known as Philsy, Philbert, and Philly. was rescued with two siblings from a Bronx backyard, and brought to a shelter at the age of four months. Naturally the most fearful, and yes, feral of the three, Philsy had missed the crucial kitten socialization period of three to seven weeks of age, and was completely terrified of all things human.
I had only been working at this shelter for two weeks when my sweet old lady cat, Magic, passed away suddenly at the ripe old age of sixteen. Devastated, and worried that Phinny would become depressed without company, I asked Magic to let me know who I was meant to take home as his new companion, and as weird and “new agey” as it sounds, I distinctly heard Phil’s name.
Four years later, Phil continues to surprise us, last week starting to jump up in a living room chair with me; something he had never dared to do. He has taught us both more about patience and the rewards of persistence than any person ever could. The terrified “wild” animal who quite literally lived under the bed for about the first year he lived with us, has become a loving, if still elusive pet, and I don’t think that he is anywhere near finished evolving.
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