More Photos Of Epicurus

Epicurus Amamus Hughes, the coolest cat ever, passed away February 4, 2005 in his home after a brief illness. He is survived by his adoring parents, his human sister Maple, his litter mate sister Demeter Amamus, and his canine sister Elsa von Facebiter.

Epicurus was born in the rural outskirts of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where, according to legend, a kindly and cat-loving woman found him and his sister Demeter in “the woods.” Already an owner of no fewer than 24 cats, the woman decided to offer the pair of beautiful Siamese kittens for free to a good home. A young student named Halane Hughes saw the advertisement in a local newspaper, drove to the country, and was awarded the two cats after a rigorous interview and screening process which had previously eliminated numerous other potential adopters.

Upon their arrival at Halane’s home, the cats were wild-eyed, hissing and feral. A rigorous behavior modification program consisting of forced hugs and kisses and lots of treats began. Soon, both cats were cuddly, lovable and sweet. They also turned out to be huge,especially Epicurus, whose long, luxurious coat that made him look even larger than his solid eighteen pounds. Within a year, the whole family moved to Atlanta where, after a couple years of apartment living, the three settled in a home of Halane’s own, located in the Ormewood Park neighborhood, featuring a giant screened-in porch. This porch, along with Halane’s sequence of attention-lavishing roommates, proved to be instrumental in developing Epicurus’s two greatest enjoyments: people and perches.

In 1993, Epicurus cheated death and used up one of his nine lives when he was diagnosed with a serious illness and withered away to four pounds. Despite the pronouncement by the veterinarian that he should be put to sleep, Halane and his Auntie Hillary, a student at Emory at the time, managed to nurse him back to health with round-the-clock care, feeding him through a stomach tube. He made a full recovery and, as anyone who ever saw him could attest, had no problem putting the weight back on. In fact, food was one of his greatest passions: particularly turkey, the first food he ate on his own after the illness. It would not be the last time he outlived dire predictions or scoffed at recommendations that he should be euthanized.

When Halane and I met, Epicurus and I bonded immediately. When we searched for a new home, one of our primary considerations was to be certain that the house had a screened-in porch for the cats. Our current home was Epicurus’s all-time favorite, with a screened-in porch, stairs to climb, lots of elevated windows from which to survey his domain, and new, expensive furniture on which he could repose and shed, or, as it struck his fancy, shred.

He was friend to all: visitors, roommates, dogs, cats. When company arrived at the door, Demeter, the more adventurous of the pair, would always try to figure out a method of escape. Epicurus’s first act was to assert his presence enthusiastically in an effort to gain some form of interaction. It was obvious to Epicurus that all visitors came to give him attention, and he thought it was his duty to make it easy for them. When he met his canine sister Elsa Von Facebiter, a dog whose sole mission outside the home is to chase and devour cats, he won her over by immediately approaching her and rubbing his head against her powerful jaws. When his sister Maple was brought home from the hospital, he realized that even though she was the first and only serious competition he had ever had for attention, she was a human and would soon be capable of petting him. Epicurus was Maple’s first friend and, in fact, one of her first words was “cat”, which she said whenever she saw Epi, Demeter or Elsa (at least the concept was there).

To know Epicurus was to love him. His easy going nature, affection-seeking tendencies and massive size instantly endeared him to everybody. It was Epicurus who opened up the “cat person” side of my humanity, which had long since closed after the death of my childhood cat, Chocolate. Epicurus’s sister Demeter is an amazing cat, but I can only love her because Epicurus was the “gateway cat.” It takes time, and an appreciation and knowledge of cats to really get close to Demeter. Epicurus was an immensely drinkable, well-balanced, totally enjoyable Zinfandel, while Demeter is a delicate, fruity, subltly spiced and much-treasured rare Bordeaux. Epicurus was cooler and smarter than a dog: affectionate, sweet and the capability to endure a thorough rough-housing, without the panting, drool and endless “ball ball ball” and “look at me”. Beyond that, Epicurus was equipped with an added feedback device, a roaring purr, that let you know you were doing just the right thing. Whether you were scratching behind his ears, rubbing his tummy, slapping his side or letting him bite the comb, he always seemed to be enjoying himself.

Epicurus inspired relaxation and peace. If you came home from a stressful day at the office and were greeted by a huge, purring ball of fur, sashaying toward you in fuzzy coulottes, you had to smile. Once he would jump upon your lap, get settled and break into a rumbling purr, all tension would fade away. Workplace ennui was no match for Epicurus’s potent serenity. Halane and I spent many a lazy day in bed or on the sofa trapped by his purring, cuddly force of calmness. One of the most enjoyable things about Epicurus was his ability to withstand a full-on, squeezing, full-body hug which was immensely satisfying to both parties. These are just some of the many reasons he is referred to as “The Coolest Cat Ever”.

Epicurus was stricken with asthma late in his life, which resulted in a late night emergency clinic visit and a judgment that he be euthanized for strokes. Fortunately for us, our excellent vet, Doctor Housecat, who answered our late night call, counseled the emergency doctors to treat for acute asthma. Again, he recovered in full. Eventually, he must have used up all his lives. A seizure one afternoon, a brief coma, a week of intensive care, spinal taps, cat scans, various treatments and anything medically possible resulted in no improvement. He spent his last three days in his home being treated by his parents with the dim hope that his familiar, comforting home would provide a better environment for recovery. But Epicurus was unable to continue. He was euthanized at our home by his vet in Halane’s arms and surrounded by his family. It was devastatingly sad, but incredibly peaceful. Deceased Pet Care picked him up in a little kitty hearse for cremation. Epicurus’ ashes will remain in an urn in our home for the rest of our lives and his memory will remain in our hearts forever.

Halane and Epicurus were together for a long time (almost 40 percent of Halane’s life), and I knew him for nearly seven years. Epicurus brought joy, happiness and peace to Halane’s life and mine every single day. He was such a big part of us and we will miss him and love him forever.

Goodbye Epicurus, and thanks for being you. We love you.