This is a repost from July 2008. Our sweet little kitty, who I have had since I was 21 years old, passed away yesterday. I know, who wants to read about that but hey, this is my blog, my place to journal my thoughts so bare with me through this one. Let me unload a little sorrow for a moment for a dear friend.
A little background before the repost.
When I was in college, I had a job working at a store called Wild Birds Unlimited. Olivia was the store cat. She was a princess. Slept most days on top of the binocular case. Would stand next to the TV while the Buckeyes played football and bat at the screen or make wierd little chirping noises when we played videos with squirrels getting into bird feeders. She was known by all the customers and they often brought her treats.
One day, she snuck out the front door and killed a goldfinch. She came in that door proud as could be carrying this bird in her mouth. Now mind you, we sold bird feeders and bird food so you could enjoy and watch the birds. Having her walk in having just hunted down one of these pretty birds was not a very good selling point.
One day she was sitting next to the cash register and an old man came in and was petting her kind of rough. She hissed, growled, turned her head, cocked her ears back and I said to him, "She's not happy with you. Be careful. She might bite" and sure enough she gave him a real quick nip. His hand bled and he walked out saying he was suing, yadda, yadda, yadda. He never did but Olivia was "relieved" of her mousing duties in the store that day. That day, she came home to live with me. Retired from the store, she lived a good life with me and was very spoiled.
When we brought the twins home, she very slinkily tiptoed on our bed and peered over into the bassinet. So curious what was in there. Later, she learned to be totally ignorant of the girls and I have photos of them as babies literally laying on top of her.
One day, while the girls were running to catch the school bus, Olivia ran behind them and actually jumped onto the bus with them. They had to chase her down the aisle to catch her. Most days, the girls had to try to outrun her because she tried that trick 3 out of 5 days a week. Clear up to the end. Last Friday, she almost made it to the bus and I had to run after her.
She was a good kitty as kitties go. She loved Taco Bell, something she learned while she worked at the store. We often had that for lunch and we would find her in the trash licking the wrappers. It's always hard to say goodbye but it was time. She was almost 18 years old and was down to nothing. She quit bathing herself months ago and was losing her sight and hearing. She really lived her life fully to the very end.
Here's the repost from last summer...a story about a blue jay who was eating the cats food for weeks before the barn cat caught him.
Here's innocent Olivia, who mostly laid on the porch within 4 feet of the bluejay while he ate for hours at a time. She's 16, just bones and fur, and could care less about anything unless of course it's on our dinner table. Turn your back for 2 seconds and she is either on the table or in the trash digging out whatever leftovers were tossed.
Trash kitty as we call her. We grilled out chickens one day and tossed the bones outside in the garbage. Late that night, thinking raccoons were getting into the garbage, my husband chased off whatever was making noise around the can. The next day, we head off for the afternoon and return around dinner time. I notice that Olivia is not doing her usual meow in the front window, go to the back, meow from the back porch, repeat every 3 minutes for an hour, nap, start over, routine. So, about 7pm, I go looking for Olivia. My instincts said, start with the trash can. I open up the lid, and inside was a bag in shreds, contents everywhere, and the greasiest, nastiest, looking gray cat you ever saw. Trash kitty...that's what we call her.
Rest in peace dear sweet Olivia. We loved you and we will see you again someday.