Ozzy RIP

A little over a year ago Nancy and I fostered a wiry little kitten for a couple weeks. To help him gain weight and take some pressure off of the adoption center.

We fell for the little guy and ended up adopting him ourselves.

We called him Ozzy because he had mascara eyes and a raspy voice. We referred to him as our “Uber” cat. He was smart enough to play fetch, hide and go seek, would bat his leash to be taken on walks at the same times each day, was a reliable morning alarm. In short he was the perfect cat. We took him with us when we went hiking or traveling, and he was always game for adventure, and excitement. He triggered many existentialist essays in me, as to the nature of consciousness, if I was a pet to a benevolent alien, how I would communicate without language etc.

He made the quarantine so much more bearable, and he regularly made me reflect with continual surprise how strongly I could love him. Which helped me to realize I must have clicked over into the phase of my life where I’m ready to have children.

Soon after adopting him last year we discovered he had feline lukemia and so probably didn’t have long to live. We lived in denial of this fact and tried not to think about it. Sadly a year later after a few days of having trouble holding down his breakfast we took him into the vet to discover he had an advance stage of cancer, and he died during an attempt to drain his lungs.

Nancy and I were devestated and still are.

I week later and I still half hallucinate him jumping up onto the bed at night. Or walking into the room behind me when it’s tea time and I would feed him chedder popcorn. Or turn around when I get up from my computer to find him curled in a ball behind me.

I comfort myself in knowing he was happy and relatively pain free right up until the end, and was spared months of torcherous medical intervention, which I wouldn’t have been able to resist approving if I had the option.

He was such a great guy. My little dude. I wish I had more time with him. He was the best. I will always miss him. I’m glad we were pals and got to enjoy his life together. Good bye Ozzy.

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  1. Speaking with Classic Rock, Butler says he and singer Ozzy Osbourne were so concerned that the song would be seen as a Zeppelin rip-off that they refused to play the cut. It was left to guitarist Tony Iommi, who had written the song’s driving guitar riff, to convince them otherwise.

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