When I met my partner nearly a decade ago she had three black cats, brothers that she had rescued from a poor situation. (I never knew the fourth brother.) Star was a one person cat and did not like me. Rupert was large and loud and generally okay. Then there was Oscar. By the time we moved in together Star and Rupert had passed away, leaving the old man Oscar to be joined by two girls, Billie and Libby––they’re not young anymore, but I still think of them as kittens.
Oscar passed away Monday morning, just shy of his 18th birthday.
Despite being the clumsiest cat I have ever seen and his fondness for eating string and ribbon, and therefore for chewing on shoelaces, Oscar was also the best cat. He was gentle and friendly and cuddly and was ready to purr at the drop of a hat. His back legs haven’t been working well recently and he’s lost a lot of weight, requiring twice-daily pills thyroid medication, but he didn’t run from pills and certainly didn’t hold it against you for giving it to him.
We transitioned to working from home this week and doing so without Oscar around has made the change all the more difficult. Our new normal would have been his dream and while we do have the other two cats it just isn’t the same. RIP Oscar.