Bidding farewell to Biff
An esteemed Woody Creature has passed, and a good friend is no longer with us. Biff the cat, a resident in the vicinity of the Woody Creek Tavern and Woody Creek Community Center for for more than 20 years, recently passed peacefully in his sleep.
The official unofficial mascot of Woody Creek, Biff was brought to the Woody Creek Tavern one day as a kitten and was given the name Charcoal. But a popular drink, Baileys with an Irish whiskey floater, must have seemed more appropriate, and he became Biff with two “fs”.
Biff out-survived many changes in Woody Creek: Woody Creek Tavern owners, different iterations of the Woody Creek Community Center, many different wait staff, customers and more than few other Woody Creatures.
Biff grew up on the mean streets of Woody Creek, and as one neighbor described: He did not succumb to the meek. In his later days, he was down to two teeth — but a good mouser even then. Mice were Biff-erated — sometimes quickly, sometimes not.
He was loved by many: Bartenders. Wait staff. Tourists and the regulars. And Biff riffs abound: He fought a fox in the middle of the road. He stared down a 100-pound Doberman. He took a cab to Aspen and returned on the bus, or it might have been a limo. He got in a car and disappeared in Old Snowmass for three weeks, eventually returned to the Tavern by someone who recognized him. And he knew the days the health inspector planned to show up.
He would do creamer shots with the wait staff. He would hang out with bartenders long into the night. And with a veteran with post-traumatic stress disorder, he would sit for hours and be petted.
Parents loved to watch their children pet Biff. He was often patient with them until they got too rough or he was annoyed, and then he would disappear.
In his later years, he often slept in a chip box in the basement of the Woody Creek Community Center. Biff liked to spend his mornings after breakfast sunning himself on the floor, greeted by name by many as they came in the front door. Afternoons and evenings would find him patrolling the Woody Creek Tavern. He loved bowls of whipped cream and sleeping in his leopard bed or on a jacket to closing time. But in the evenings, he liked to cat around, often showing back up in the morning dusty, dirty, with a wound or two, having survived another adventure.
Since his passing, many have asked for him. He was part of the community, and a celebration of his passing was attended by neighbors and friends.
Big guy, you are missed.
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