August 8, 2020 – Saturday
More writing portfolio findings …
The Acquisition of Oscar – 10/12/2004
The cat is sitting on the stool next to me – staring into my soul – willing me to understand his intentions/needs/thoughts. I look up at him and ask, “Do you need food? A hug? Got a new idea for this novel of mine that is going nowhere?”
My brain is certainly clogged as I am not even open to cat brain waves this morning. I grab him up in a big hug, hoping that was what he was needing. It did me good.
He is a big boy … black and brown tabby – 18 plus pounds – and all of it love. I’ve had a few cats in my life but Oscar will forever be my baby. He was mine. And he was special. And I can’t imagine my life without this one-of-a-kind feline.
I came upon him before the holidays a few years back. I was on my way home from a holiday luncheon with good girlfriends and being near the local shelter, I thought I’d stop in – take a peek – and give a donation.
Our lovely cat, Emmy, of 14 years had passed away three weeks earlier and with another cat at home and an aging pug – I really didn’t need another cat. I didn’t even want another cat. My heart was still broken over Emmy.
So, I was not prepared when I opened one of the cage doors and peered inside. All I saw was a huge blob of fur huddled at the back of it. I swung open the door and clucked to him and out ventured the largest cat I’d ever seen! He stretched his paw out to me (as if introducing himself) and then climbed onto me, wrapping each front paw around my neck and then burrowed his face into my chest. I could not have pried him off of me even if I had wanted to.
And … I didn’t want to. My heart had already melted and I was his.
I’d like to say I gave the shelter my money and that Oscar and I went home that day. That would have been nice and easy – but nice and easy was not the way he ultimately ended up with us.
It was instant love at first sight for us both. But, I decided I’d best go home and get my daughter for her ultimate approval. I did not want to show up with a “replacement cat” if she wasn’t ready. Emmy had been like her little sister and the cat’s passing had been a difficult loss, especially for her.
An hour later, just before the shelter’s closing, Sam was holding Oscar. She was beaming … and if possible, I think he was, too. I left the two of them hugging in the back room and went to fill out the adoption paperwork. After filling out all necessary pages, which were many – I handed them over to the gal at the counter. She rifled through them (ever so briefly) and looked up at me (ever so politely) and told me they “would never adopt to the likes of me.”
WHAT??? Me??? The animal lover of all animal lovers? The stray dog rescuer? Queen of the Tadpoles? I had even stayed up all night once with a rescued pinky squirrel that had fallen from its nest in our tree – who I then transported two hours north to “Squirrel Rescue” the next morning.
Me? They wouldn’t adopt to the likes of ME? There must be some mistake. Had I said we were satanic or used to doing animal rituals? That we had a nice recipe of Stew of Cat at home? That we were involved in cat fighting? WHAT!?
I didn’t go ballistic. I didn’t throw a tantrum, get indignant or yell. I did what I always do when I’m angry, confused, hurt – I cried. Through the tears of my daughter’s and my own I heard that we were not a good “fit” because we already had a cat at home. We had a dog and a dog door and heaven forbid, that the cat should “get out” that door and be able to enjoy some fresh air! I should have lied and said I was the only one at home, no other pets, I’d never let him outside, blah blah blah. But nope – I told the truth and was sent home.
Sam and I left, our faces tear-streaked and before we even got our seat belts buckled, “Operation Rescue” was in place.
My sister and her daughter were our accomplices. They followed us to the shelter the next day. We parked half a block down and told them what he looked like/the name (Rufus) on his cage and what to say to “pass” the adoption process. After searching half an hour for him – they were told he was being “fixed” and he wouldn’t be available until the next day. Undaunted, we made a plan to return.
Day three of “OR” dawned and as much as I wanted to go back as soon as they opened, we needed to wait until school was out for the girls. So, at 4pm, back to the shelter our two cars went … determined to get Oscar and bring him home. We were on a mission! We arrived there – my sister and her daughter went in … Sam and I were parked, again, half a block away. I didn’t want anyone to recognize my van! I was taking no chances!
But, alas … NO CAT!
My sister was told he had been part of an ADOPTION DAY promo at a local pet store across town. As in … WAY across town! Frantic, Sam and I sped off, through the Friday before Christmas rush-hour traffic to the pet store miles and miles away… trying to get there before they closed. We parked and practically flew into the store. We walked directly to the adoption area and sweet-talked the dorkiest 17 year old worker I could find. I didn’t want ANY trouble.We asked about any tabbies they had. The kid opened up one of the cages … and there he was … OUR (soon-to-be) CAT! Hallelujah!
Pointing at Oscar I said (heart racing but as cooly as possible), “We’ll take that one.” I filled out the paperwork – all incorrect information, of course – my middle name as my first, last name something else, a made-up address. I was beyond panicked that they’d ask to see my license – thankfully, they didn’t. (Phew!) As I was doing that, I gave Sam the keys and told her to take the cat OUT TO THE CAR – (90% of ownership is possession, right?). I could feel every single second ticking away – interminably – while I waited in line to pay his all-cash/non-traceable adoption fees. I thought I’d faint. Was it hot in there? Transaction completed – I was wished a happy holiday and I, as nonchalantly as possible, walked out. My heart was still racing. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I felt like I had just robbed a bank!
And that is how Oscar came to be our cat.
Footnote: The above was written in 2004. Operation Rescue took place just before Christmas 2002 and we had my sweet kitty until the Spring of 2013. We think, from the vet’s determination, that he was over 18 at the time I had to put him down. As he grew older he got into a number of fights along the way … with a raccoon … with a fox … other cats. He was a monster – always protecting us/the house/the other animals. I watched him chase a coyote from our yard, even. We had an old pug, Yoshi, whom he adored. She was paralyzed and he’d sit with her and groom her for hours … and then when I put her in the yard in the sun or shade … he’d go sit with her and look after her. He was a doting boyfriend!
He never liked a display of emotions. Always biting or swatting if someone was too rowdy, crying, or otherwise upset. When I moved across country from Denver to Chicago, I had four dogs and two cats in the minivan with me. Yoshi, Oscar’s girlfriend, was not doing well and I made a pit stop at the local vet before we even made it to the highway. She was dying and I had to help her to that bridge. I got back in the car – sobbing my eyes out, thinking what would I “tell” the cat – I had just “killed his girlfriend”. He walked from the back of the van and put his little paw on my shoulder and just mewed. It broke my heart but I think he was telling me he knew and it was okay. I cried all the way to Omaha.
We nicknamed him “The General” because of his stoic nature, courage and display of punishment. If the dogs were being too rambunctious – barking at a passerby or the mailman – he’d go over to them and smack their butts! He kept them in line. He often chased (unsuspecting) dogs and people off our sidewalks – including one little girl on a tricycle! He was ruthless – but he was also a sweet and loyal guy … and a loving, comforting friend and companion for many years. He was lovely.