Ollie

Ollie came to live with me, my daughter, and another cat in September 2008. Mostly on a whim, I visited the Sangamon County Animal Control with the idea that a kitten might be an option for our family. A volunteer led me to a cage that was bursting with kitten energy --- there were two litters of furry babies careening around the cage, and it was by chance that she fished Ollie out and handed him to me. Born in the pound, he was so tiny, but even at several ounces, he had a big personality and was fearless. He integrated himself into the household seamlessly, driving the other cat crazy at times. In true tabby fashion, Ollie did not know a stranger and served as the official ambassador to all visitors. He oversaw the installation of kitchen appliances, monitored the annual furnace inspection, followed carpet cleaners around and napped on any lap he could find. When we were on vacation and brought in a pet sitter, Ollie was the first to greet her and lead her down the basement stairs to show her where to find the cat food. His bravery had its limits. He didn’t care to sit on the deck in the sunshine. Maybe the outdoors was just too big for him. On windy days, he would pace around the frantically and stalk the front door, where the breeze made a whistling sound. He caught a mouse once but had no idea what to do with it and so let it escape. 17 years is a long life for a cat. Ollie was there for all the milestones in our family, quietly overseeing things from the back of the couch. He celebrated many Christmas mornings, playing happily in piles of wrapping paper. He welcomed grandchildren with a quiet curiosity, enjoying them from a distance, sometimes retreating to a peaceful bedroom when the noise level exceeded his tolerance. His health was exemplary, so much so that we tended to take for granted that he would always be a fixture in the house. In 2023, he started showing slight signs that something was off, and a battery of tests revealed that he was in the early stages of renal failure. Ever the optimist, Ollie soldiered on without a care in the world, adjusting his routine to accommodate his failing body. His last few months were spent mostly napping blissfully on the back of the couch or curled in an armchair. I don’t know if animals dream as we do, but like to think that he was remembering all the good days. Ollie left us very suddenly the morning of Sunday, February 23. In true cat fashion, he hid his accelerating illness until there was no concealing it, and by then it was too late for any intervention. He is sorely missed by his human family and feline friend, Latte.

Ollie

February 23, 2024