My Cat Otis is Getting Old

About five years ago, we started teasing Otis because he whined for a stool to help him get up to the counter to eat his food. His food has to be on the counter - otherwise the dogs will eat it, razor claws or no razor claws - dogs will be dogs.

This was the cat who killed a bird a day until we got smart and built contraptions on the fence so he couldn't get up there and help himself to the buffet that was the neighbor's bird feeder.
This was the cat who wandered down the street to sit on the roof with Dotty, the world's orneriest cat, and to tease Randy, the world's stupidest dog. His Randy shenanigans earned me several phone calls from my neighbor, who couldn't believe Otis could sit, or lay, or loll around JUST out of reach of her dog. Basically, she told me indignantly, Otis was flipping her dog the bird. And giving HER palpitations with all the barking and whining.

I picked Otis out of an animal shelter cage. He was a speck of a kitten and full of attitude. I watched as he basically pounded the snot out of every kitten in the cage. I knew this was the cat for me - I needed a cat who could hold his own with hyperactive toy fox terrier.

Max and Otis hit it off from the beginning. Max had been badly beaten up by the evil Dotty on several occasions, so he was a a bit leary about this new gray kitten at first. But soon enough, they made friends and Otis would brighten Max's morning by laying in wait at the end of the hallway. And Max would fall for it every single time.

When we got Augie Doggie as a puppy, Otis began the process of making this new dog understand the rules. Augie returned the favor by adopting Otis as his own personal chew toy. We would laugh in amazement as Augie would grab a hold of the cat's neck with his chops and then drag Otis around the slick kitchen floor - with the cat yowling epithets and the dog steering clear of the life-threatening claws - which remained sheathed every time they played together.
Otis would often come into the bedroom when the dogs were settled, under the covers, for the night. He would jump stealthily onto the bed and then WHAM! BAM! pounce on the sleeping dogs and run like hell to safety while the dogs were still trying to get out from underneath the blankets.

The stool became more and more necessary but we thought little about it - thinking Otis was just becoming lazy and spoiled. After all, this is the cat who comes upstairs virtually every single morning to let me know, in case I forgot, that he is - well - hungry. Just in case. As if he's ever gone a day of his long life without food.

When Max died at the age of 16, I let Otis examine his body. I don't know why I did this. I guess I believed that Otis needed the same kind of closure I did. He sniffed and turned away. Cats show grief differently, I guess. He watched while we buried his old friend. He looked uninterested. But he does, on occasion, go over to that spot in the planter and sit down. Sometimes he will go into that cat crouch - not quite laying, not quite sitting, front legs curled up underneath his chest, just watching.

Lately, Otis has been having trouble even reaching his stool. He is sleeping more and more during the day and his catting around is limited to our backyard and the living room.

Today, as I sat in his favorite chair at the computer, he came over and made clear he wanted to get up on my lap. This is rather unusual for him - he is not especially affectionate. I encouraged him and he sat there. Finally, he mewed. Not a demanding meow like morning food time. Not the 'put upon' yowl of Augie pestering him with his endless dog energy. But a simple mew. Asking for a favor.

So I lifted him up and he sat with me for awhile. He purred. He sat, spreading the first shed of his winter coat all over my pants and up my nose. Then he got down and went to lay in the middle of the livingroom, free from the dogs because they are banned from that room forever. He washed his back paws.

And he is sleeping. And I am watching him, counting up the years since I rescued him from the pound cage because he was so feisty - while my best friend adopted the other three - because they were not.

My cat Otis is getting old now. Birds no longer interest him and he plays with Augie less and less. But he still comes up in the mornings to tell me in no uncertain terms, that he is hungry - lest I forget.