Dear OJ,
Even as a kitten, you were always the quiet one, always content to wait for your nipple, or to the kitten chow, letting your more boisterous, active brothers and sisters push their way in. You were not tempted to do your business anywhere other than the cat box, even when you saw some go where they shouldn’t have. You accepted attention and affection, without scratching, or asking for more.
As you grew, your manners remained impeccable. When you were taken to meet a child wanting a kitten to grow with, along with your brother; you were content to lay there and let him be picked instead. You were always the one who was conspicuous for not climbing on the curtains, or sharpening your claws on the furniture. You never started a fight, and would not gain reprisals on those who attacked you. You were happy for the affection you received, and when there was none offerred, you would lay quietly,
causing no one any concern.
When you grew thin, and it was plain you were ill, nothing changed. You would not complain or act any differently than before. As you grew sicker, and I tried to help you, you would always rub your face against me, as if to say thanks, man. You faced each hurdle with the same equanimity as before, only now with much less strength. You would want to lay on my lap or just be touched, like never before. When I would come back from being gone, you would always come to greet me, and rub faces, welcoming me as only you would do. We tried countless combinations of food, hoping you would eat each one, and feeling the same hunger for your recovery as you felt for the food that you could not handle.
When I left this time, I took special care to show you attention and affection, wanting you to know you are loved and appreciated. You accepted it like always, rubbing your face weakly against mine, then when I rose, laying it back down again. You did not come to greet me when I came back. I looked and with a house full of animals and family, it seemed empty. I asked, and you were gone. The sadness I feel and tears I shed are for you, OJ. You were never my cat, but were my good friend, and I miss you. You lived a gracious life, an example for all of us. I take what comfort I can, that you are well and active now, playing with Mowgli; and I am looking forward to rubbing faces again with you both before we cross the rainbow bridge together.
I will always remember you,
| OJ |
| 4, Mar 2006 |
| Ralph Allen Reid |