Thanksgiving With Ozzie
Bringing Ozzie's holiday back out of the cobwebby archives for my new readers. A Five-Minute read with voice-over and music
If you have been hanging out at 🌿Leaves for a while, you have already spent a Thanksgiving or two with Ozzie. Still, he might make you laugh. Dear Ozzie has gone to cat heaven now, but we still set a place for him under the holiday table.
I was spending Thanksgiving alone that year. My entire family scattered off in different directions like so much bird-shot, but they left me in charge of Ozzie, the grumpy old family cat. The gratitude was two-fold: The family were grateful someone would take the old boy off their hands. I was grateful to be of use. Ozzie, himself, was not so grateful — he had to ride four miles in the car, poor guy, and arrived with his fur standing on end. He snooped around the entire house yodeling like a deranged Bavarian, then he too was finally grateful – to find a bed under which to hide.
He came with all his essential gear. I had no idea how many possessions a cat required these days. A litter box, a 10 - pound bag of perfumed gravel, a large blue plastic scoop, a feathered mouse on a string, a favorite blanket, brush, comb, water bowl, food bowl, a jar of cat treats, a box of Squeeze-Ups, and ten cans of Friskies in a variety of tantalizing flavors.
He was so old, he slept 22 hours a day. I kept walking over and poking him to make sure he was still breathing. When he was awake, he mostly sat and stared into space as if in a trance. Occasionally he’d let out a shockingly loud howl for no reason whatsoever. I, myself, sleep a lot these days, and often sit staring out the window. Occasionally, I even let out a sudden loud lament, so the two of us were on the same geriatric pathway.
He kept stealing my rocking chair, and grumbled every time I lifted him out of it onto the floor. “I am sorry, old man. I know you are older than I am, but it is my chair, and I am bigger than you are.” He decided we could both sit in the chair together if we stacked up. He preferred to be on top.
He made a nest of my big fuzzy blanket, ignoring his own little puny one, and the way he drooled and thrummed on it, I got a feeling that maybe he thought it was his mom.
He was fussy about his food. He rejected the Friskies Turkey dinner, the Meaty Bits dinner and the White Fish dinner. I’d lined up three bowls on the floor like a cafeteria, but they all proved unworthy of his delicate palate. He, apparently, was holding out for pork chops.
I tried to bribe him with the Squeeze-Ups goo, which he instantly rejected. He sashayed off, indignant, tail in the air. He’ll come back when he is hungry, I thought. And he did, but he looked at me as if he were doing me a favor.
So Ozzie and I kept each other company for a couple of days. We had many long conversations, most of them beginning with, “Now you just hold on a minute, buster! Listen to me, you get in here and eat this.” And ending with a catly reply that could only be interpreted as, “Go to hell, you old bat. I am going back in the closet and sleep on the shoes.”
Obviously, he was not very happy to be here, but I was happy to have him. It was one of the most novel events of the past year, which is, I know, a pathetic statement of how my life has degenerated.
Anyway, I cleaned up the last traces of his visit – the litter scattered on the bathroom floor, the cat hair in the dryer from washing my blanket. I missed him a little, and was thinking I would invite him back for a couple of days at Christmas. Because he was family.
I laid in a supply of pork chops just in case.
Happiest of holidays to you and to all those who love you out there wherever you are. Here is the beautiful Joy Oladokun ushering in the winter season for us with a favorite old Beatles tune….
.. nicely wrote.. & well observed .. love a fine - cat tale’ .. the ‘more rude or indifferent the cat - the more I admire it ! 🦎🏴☠️🍁
Precious tale twice-told! And right-on-point, as we're babysitting our daughter's new dog at our place this week of Thanksgiving, doing the same getting-to-know-you routines you describe. But sweet happy dogs are tons easier than cranky cats, I suspect - our week is going well! :)