A couple of weeks ago, I was petting Figaro when it occurred to me that he was skin and bones. I could feel every vertebrae in his spine, and ever rib in his side. There was no way we could deny anymore that this ugly growth was much more than simply a messy inconvenience. It was sapping the life from our loyal friend. It was time.
Figaro made a couple of appearances in my writing. Once simply as inspiration in a science fiction story and once based (very loosely) on an actual event.
In Memory of Figaro, here is the pertinent excerpt: