So, it would seem that I’m a cat whisperer. For some reason, they find me. Or I find them. Historically, I have cat allergies. How in the hell I have nine indoor cats is beyond me. But I digress.
Today is the story of Otis.
He began his life with another name, and another owner. The story I’ve been told is that his first owner decided that she couldn’t afford three cats, so she chose two and let them outside. I have no idea if this is true, but I used to watch them run to the house when they heard the tires crunch on the gravel, only to have doors closed in their faces. This broke my heart.
They were “adopted” by neighbours who fed them, but no attempt was made to bring them inside and give them love. I give them total kudos for feeding them and keeping them alive.
One day, one of the cats appeared on my deck, with a full chest covered in blood. I could not catch him, and I cried myself to sleep that night, because I couldn’t help this beautiful boy. A week passed, and it turned out some good Samaritan managed to catch him and have him fixed up. I would still love to know who that was. I would like to hug them.
I could go on, and ramble for hours, but the short story is that the neighbours who “adopted” them moved. They were able to catch one cat to bring to their new home as a barn cat, but they were unable to catch he-who-would-become-Otis. In fact, he clawed one of them so badly that he had to go to hospital. He ran into other people’s houses, freaked out, and threw himself off second floor balconies. This was not a lovey cat. They still tried to catch him, and I was accused of stealing him.
In the meantime, this cat had decided that I might be a nice person/victim/sucker and I ended up befriending the beast. I did so for another person, but he imprinted himself on me so much that it wasn’t right for him to leave. Outside the house, he followed me everywhere, allowed belly rubs, and didn’t want to leave my side.
Fast forward to 2021, and this wee boy (he’s huge, I call him my pitbull kitty) follows me around the house, sleeps on my chest, snores louder than a human, and washes my forehead for fun. He is my shadow, my confidant, my best friend, and my melty love-bucket.
Did I steal him? Maybe. But in my honest opinion… barn cat versus sleeping in fluffy beds, cuddling, and snoring like there’s no care in the world… you be the judge.