An Ode to Oscar

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We had to say a final farewell to our cat Oscar.  He recently had become ill the past month.  Even after a couple of trips to the vet and three rounds of medication, his condition rapidly deteriorated.  We were forced to make that trip to the vet that no one wants to make.

Oscar was one cool cat. We hadn’t planned to own Oscar, it was just fate.  When our youngest daughter was a few years old, she was always requesting to get an orange cat named Spot. When we moved into our present home almost 11 years ago and had more room for pets, we decided that we were going to grant her wish.

Mr. Caffeinated Ginger went to the humane society a few days before Christmas to procure an orange cat named Spot.  He found our Spot (who, by the way, has no spots) and as an added bonus, it happened to be Two for Tuesday–you could adopt TWO cats for the price of one.  What a deal! Who can resist anything that is FREE? That is how Oscar also became a beloved member of our household.

I remember the evening that Oscar and Spot came to their forever home.  Oscar just pranced right in like he owned the place. He had no problem settling into his new abode.

Oscar first day

 Oscar’s first night at his forever home.

 

He was quite adventurous when he was a young cat. It was not unusual to find him on top of the china cabinet or the refrigerator.  We also caught him walking on the top edge of the opened front door a few times.  Sure-footed, he was.

Part of our basement has a drop-down ceiling with panels.  Oscar soon found a secret passageway in the basement bathroom that led from the linen closet into the ceiling. He would walk around the ceiling meowing as if he couldn’t find his way out of the labyrinth.  The first few times this occurred, I thought I had to “save” him, so I removed ceiling panels to reach him and came away with some cat scratches in the process.  It didn’t take me long to learn that what goes up can learn to find its way down on its own.

Oscar was a very loving cat who absolutely adored being petted.  He knew no strangers–if we had visitors in our home, Oscar wasted no time rubbing against their legs in hopes of a petting. He, however, did not like being picked up and held. Pet him all you want, but do not expect a hug and a cuddle.

Nighttime was Oscar-time. Oscar took to sleeping in our bed soon after he came to live with us. His mode of operation would be to jump on the bed and then poke us in the arm with his paw until we petted him, alternating between Mr. CF and myself. He slept at my feet every night and kept them warm whether they needed the extra heat or not.

Oscar loved a good can of tuna. Anytime he heard the can opener, he assumed it was tuna and would come in the kitchen and stare at me. Even when I explained to him that it was only a can of green beans, he wouldn’t believe me until I allowed him a good sniff.

oscar and posse

 Oscar and his posse using their superior smelling skills to detect a can of fresh tuna.

 

Our house is a little more empty since Oscar is gone.  I keep glancing at all of the usual places where Oscar used to lounge–the couch, the doorway to the family room, my bed.  When I don’t see him, the hurt becomes raw again. It’s funny how a little 12-pound cat can become such a big part of your life and hold such a large piece of your heart.

Oscar, thanks for bringing your quiet gentleness and loving nature to our family.  You are missed.

oscar in window

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