Author: Ayla

I’ve always been an animal lover and have cared for and cherished all of my canine/feline companions over the years…but once in a lifetime a special soul comes to you in the form of animal, and those are the ones that touch your heart…or grab your heart? No it’s more like they become your heart. That was the case with Ozzy the cat,
my sweet little man.

He was born April 6th just this year. His mama, Callie pulled the comforter down over the edge of my bed, making a little tent, and went into labor. He had 5 sisters all of which were adorable, but my handsome little fellow
was the biggest of them all.

I remember the first time I held each of them…some of them curled up and went to sleep. Some of them bunched up their tiny little faces and opened their toothless little mouths to hiss at my as yet unfamiliar smell. But my little guy was the noisiest of them all! He would holler and holler untill you put him back with his litter-mates, and mama where he would proceed to bully his was to a nipple and start purring so loud you could practically hear him from the next room. Despite the fact that I felt a little sad that this adorable little orange ball of fuzz didn’t quite enjoy my affections,
I fell in love with him.

Living as renters, we knew from the beginning we would soon be saying goodbye to the kittens, as we weren’t allowed to keep any other pets. But when the time came, and one by one I said my farewells to each of the babies, I found I couldn’t let my little prince go. We named him Ozzy, after a beloved cat who shared my home as a little girl, who he bore a striking resemblance to.
And he became part of the family.

He was a little charmer who loved his morning frolicks in the back yard. One could grow tired just watching him run the length of the yard at breakneck speed, climbing frantically up and down trees, and chasing birds. He’d stop and hide his head in a small patch of over grown grass, thinking he had found an ingenious hiding place, while the rest of his body was in plain sight. Ah my daughters and I laughed ourselves
silly over that.

He absolutely adored the smell of soap too. Any kind. Once someone had taken a bath or shower, they had to be especially careful of Ozzy, or he would attack fom beneath a bed, wrapping his arms around your ankle so he could sniff the scent of soap with glee. Sometimes he got a little crazy, but he was just a young fellow, a little over-enthusiastic but how could I be angry when he looked at me with those big golden eyes and unleashed
his powerful purr?

About 8 months passed, and the inevitable happened. The landlord found out about my secret fur-baby and gave us an ultimatum. Either “that cat” would go, or we would. It was horrifically stressfull for our entire family and caused more than one heated argument between my husband and I, but I was determined that my baby was not going anywhere unless I went too. So after a month long ordeal, we found an apartment who would allow us to have our animals.
That was only three weeks ago.

I knew Ozzy would miss his romps in the yard, but I promised myself to pay him so much extra attention, he would never feel bored or resentful. After a two week waiting period, I finally allowed him to go out for short supervised walks, then just last week I gradually began to allow him short walks on his own. After all it was a safe enough street, and he never went far. He much preferred watching everyone below
from his balcony anyway.

Then Saturday night, my daughter had taken her evening bath and predictably Ozzy began his stalking of her bath fresh scent. I was feeling the effects of a flu and parked on the couch where I lazily watched the antics. He popped out from beneath a chair, grabbed her foot with his now large furry paws. She shrieked then dropped her towel on the floor and ran off. Ozzy rolled around in bath towel heaven, purring like a motor boat and clutching that wet towel for half an hour. He fell asleep belly up on the floor. His one little patch of white belly fur was too sweet to resist. I reached down and gave him a god belly rub,
being treated to more ecstatic purring.

I wish I had known it would be the last time I’d ever touch him and feel his sandpaper tongue on my wrist. I could’ve taken him into my arms and save him from the fate that was only minutes away. I would still have
him with me right now.

But he wanted to go out…I left the back door open a crack so he could come back in when he was finished, but he never did. I let him go into the night, and not feeling well, I fell asleep on the sofa. My husband took care of the kids and got them to bed, then he went down to take out the trash. He found my little angel, dead on the patch of grass in front of our apartment. I don’t even know what happened to him exactly. Was he hit by a car? Did he fall from the balcony? Did someone intentionally kill him? I will never know, and I will never be able to take it back. He died on the street alone, and it’s all my fault. I don’t know how to stop the tears.

It’s been four days. I still feel as though I can see him from the corner of my eye, stretched out belly up in the sunny spot on the living room floor, or reminding me it’s time for dinner by staring at his bowl intently. But he isn’t here, and he will never be here again. Why? How?
He never hurt anyone.

I will miss you forever Ozzy. I don’t know how I will ever get used to life without you. You touched my life in the short time I was lucky enough to have you with me. I just want you to know i’m sorry I failed you. And I love you forever.