Socks to be you

Astute readers of this blog, assuming that I have any, have surely noticed that I haven't been posting for a while. For like three weeks, actually.

Why not, Anthony? I can hear you saying. Is there something wrong? Can we help in any way?

First off, let me say that I am fine. Rumors that I have been in Switzerland to get a total blood transfusion are false, no matter what you may have heard elsewhere. Nor have I gotten into any legal trouble.

I have been away for a very good reason. A few weeks ago, I learned that a close friend of mine was ill, very ill indeed. I canceled all my commitments and immediately took the next flight out so I could be by his side. I tried to get him the best medical care available. Experimental treatments did prolong his life for a few days, but ultimately ol' Killy McGee had his way, as he always does, and about ten days ago, the best friend I ever had left this earth.

I speak, of course, of Socks the Cat, or as he was known to his closest friends, STC.

STC had cancer of the jaw, which made it nearly impossible for him to drink his daily saucer of beer. After consulting with Bill, Hillary, and Chelsea Clinton, as well as Socks's last owner (as if anyone could own such a magnificent, free-thinking animal) Betty Currie, we decided to put Socks down. And after we put him down, we picked him up again, and drove him to a veterinarian, who injected him with a massive shot of phenobarbital, in honor of Abbie Hoffman, whose life was an inspiration to STC since his kitten days.

After a tasteful cremation ceremony, we scattered Socks's ashes over Wrigley Field, as per his frequent request.

Those of us who knew and loved Socks the Cat, and we are legion, will never forget that amazing feline and his many contributions to our civic life. We will not know his like again.

RIP, STC.