I got Oscar in early January of 2004. He was adopted from The Baypath Humane Society
I couldn't believe that someone had turned him in. He was a Persian and gorgeous. Being a Persian, he had that smooshed up face, which made him look extremely crabby all the time. He had been named Licken but I christened him Oscar.
Boo loved him.
He didn't feel the same about her, but he was patient and rarely swatted at her, even lately, when she would cart him around, front legs flapping around. He'd just look at me with this resigned expression on his face and meow pathetically.
He liked sleeping in gift bags and paper bags and cardboard boxes.
He was absolutely furious with me when I had to have him shaved due to severe matting. He stalked around the house, glaring at me and shivering as he followed the patches of sun from one spot to another. I laughed at him because, hey, he was funny.
A few weeks after we brought him home, I miscarried. I laid on the floor in my living room, not knowing that I was miscarrying, just knowing that my back was killing me and I couldn't move. He'd curl up next to my head, purring and licking my hand. Two days later, when the OB said there was no heartbeat there, I came home and crawled into bed. Oscar jumped up after me and stayed with me while I cried.
Even though he was a pain in the ass and would pee on the floor rather than the litter box sometimes, I loved that cat. I put him outside on Wednesday night, so he'd pee outside. Normally, he'd go outside for half an hour, tops, but Wednesday, he didn't come back. I called and called. I went outside to see if I could see him somewhere. Finally, around midnight, I put his cat bed on the back porch and left the door ajar for him. I did the same with the front porch door. Thursday morning, no cat. And today, still no cat. I don't think he's coming back. He's at least ten years old and he's skinny under all that hair.
I'm going to miss him. A lot.