My Ollie Cat

Ollie, our beloved geriatric cat (even when she misbehaves, she's still loved) has always been "my" cat.

M likes to joke that she wants to kill him off, so that she can have his side of the bed. And, admittedly - when he's out of town? Ollie sleeps on his side of the bed, purring away and thrilled at the complete access to me. She'd sleep ON me, but this whole "sleep on your left side or kill your unborn child schtick" makes it hard to perch on me. And yes, I'm REALLY looking forward to sleeping on my back again.

Sunday we took Ollie into the vet for her annual physical, shots and teeth-cleaning. Monkey came with us, since her frighteningly high fever of the day before (104.8 and boy is that spooky - her pediatrician had to assure me that her brain was not cooking in its own juices) was down to a reasonable 99-100 or so. She got a little clingy/whiney so I brought her into the examination room with me while Ollie got the sedative shot so she could get her teeth cleaned. (what, you think that otherwise she'd willingly LET them clean her teeth? um yeah, she's old, not docile!)

Monkey seemed ok with this, but when we left to get lunch at a local diner (to return an hour later to retrieve Ollie), she was bereft. She was crying over and over for "my Ollie cat" and saying "I want my kitty cat."

M and I looked at each other and smiled. Our hearts were simultaneously breaking and expanding with joy. Monkey loves Ollie! We never knew just how attached she was to Ollie until right then.

Ollie is no longer "my" cat. She belongs to Monkey.

Treat her well my daughter. Give her lots of love and affection. Comb and pet her beautiful fur gently. Feed her treats.

And remember, when you wave the cat dancer toy, try not to bean her on the head with the stick each time....or "your" cat might just bite you. With love, of course!