I rescued Murphy from my window well late August, 2008, almost sixteen and a half years ago. As of this afternoon, he's gone. He was too old and sick to go on without suffering. I don't know what else to say. I did my best. I made difficult choices to ensure he'd have a happier, more stable life. In the end, I couldn't protect him from time.

I shouldn't need to say this, but not everyone seems to get it, so here we are: There is a time and a place to express your spiritual/antispiritual views, and this is not it. Thank you.