I keep on waiting for the featherlight whisper of your unsure tail brushing my leg, like a paintbrush forming inky curlicues on rice paper.
Ollie you were certainly our Oggie (rhymes with podgy), short and somewhat rectangle in a fluffy sort of way.
I do believe in your heart of hearts, you considered yourself feral. You were only deigning to hang out with us for the good food and cuddles. You absolutely loved your food, you were a champion hider, but apparated out of nowhere when I opened up those cans.
I saw you first on Craigslist, and was struck by how relaxed and well... flat... you looked, stretched out on the wicker chair in your photo. After cautiously entering Bed Sty, I was pleasantly surprised at how lovely the neigborhood was, with ancient brick houses and gorgeous winding wood staircases leading to bright apartments. It was October 8th 2009.
The decision to come and meet you, was made in desperation. So many changes to our lives had left us feeling rudderless. For me, married at 19 and a Mother from age 20, I could never get used to my children being away for weekends for visitation. Walking into the house and having nobody there waiting for me, felt utterly desolate.
Then I saw you. You were unsure, measuring me with your green eyed, black 'Sharpie' eyelined glance. "He loves his box." The foster Mother commented. "whats his name?"
"Oh, I didn't want to get too attached." she said and looked away.
Things got tense for a minute when you saw the carrier. You had only ever been in one to go to the vet for shots and to be fixed." I would imagine every cat would agree that 'fixed' is a misnomer of the highest proportion.
"He is never like that" she said, hoping I would still want to take your hissing, pissed off, glaring self home.
It didnt matter, you were short and tiny and fluffy and had such gumption and this insolent green eyed gaze. You were definitely a kindred free spirit.
You were seven months old and underweight. We were all in love with you. You were grumpy and gassy if the food was too rich, and moody as a woman on the rag . You would alternatively be cuddly or sink lower and lower like a limbo master if we tried to pet you and you weren't in the mood.
when we took you to the vet for shots, you turned spiky and ferocious like a feline version of the incredible hulk. It took two vet techs to hold you down, just to take your temperature. They had no clue you were capable of such shenanigans and had to call for backup.
but Ollie, you made our place into a home. You were someone to come home to for all of us, the kids who had so much change, and me in my loneliness. You were a little fuzzy, cranky doll of a cat.
In retrospect, your weak heart was always evident, especially as time went on. Your breathlessness when playing or running, your inability to climb into Adina's bed to nap. You disdain for any exercise after awhile.
Ollie, you definitely had excellent taste in people. You didn't like just anybody. You especially loved Kellie, emerging out of hiding to meet her at the door, to be cuddled.
So it was fitting that we were both there, the night I turned my office chair around and saw you there, your stomach dented in, your nostrils flaring with the effort to breathe.
You had hidden deep under the bed, but when I reached out to you, you didn't fight. We put you in the carrier to go to the Vet, Zeke seemed to know this was farewell. He first jumped on top of the carrier, then kissed you through the door.
We took you to the excellent emergency clinic, it was just after midnight. They whisked you away and put you in an oxygen tent. They gave us a room way too soon without you. It was strange to wait without a pet, with all those 'thank you' postcards on the wall.
When the Vet came in, she said your condition was very grave. You had fluid around your lungs, due to congenital heart faliure and you were literally drowning.
The possiblities were, a terminal illness, Congenital Heart Failure or an infection that was treated by an invasive week in Vet care, with a chest tube. I said to test the fluid, just so we should know if we could treat it, but when the vet came back in, she said it looks like heart failure. If she tried to remove fluid, it would come right back.
Ollie, you were suffering. You would never be the same again... This was your existence.
She said if it were her cat, she would put him to sleep. She could drain the fluid and give you a few days or put you to sleep...and we would lose you.
she left and I called mom...
"What do we do?"
"Are you prolonging life or prolonging death?" she asked.
"If you take him home are you doing it for Ollie or for yourself?"
The answers were obvious.
You were suffering so much. We talked, we cried. We made our decision. You were brought in, cradled in a fleece blue blanket like a baby. We cuddled you and cried. You were sedated but still your independent, cantankerous self tried to stagger off the table, even while still struggling to breathe. We fluffed your fur we scratched under your chin... When she put you to sleep, you finally relaxed. You finally looked like the Ollie we knew, and you were gone...
Zeke knew... when we arrived back with the empty carrier, he did not run over to inspect it, he just sat there sad and flat. Twice since, he has let out this sad keening meow... He is so lonely without you too.
It is difficult to understand all of this. Why should it be, after so much change and loss that we should lose you, a creature that was little more then a child? A fluffy soul that gave us so much joy and comfort.
You can believe that in the nine months we knew you, we were blessed. You were sent with your weak little heart to bolster our courage with your bright spirit. and when you felt we would be okay, you were gone. We all feel we still need you, we always will.
............
