Osha
Jan told me yesterday that our cat Osha had passed away. I was not particularly surprised - the day before she had stopped eating or drinking water, and tried to tuck herself into a corner. (When her mother, Rosebud, had liver failure and we had to hydrate her with a syringe she bore it for two days and then left to die in peace. This family likes their privacy.) I’m not particularly sad about Osha, either. Jan and I did the math - we think she was about 20 years old. Lena and I had each gotten a cat when I was (I think) six and she was four. They each wandered off and got pregnant before we could spay them and Osha was the runt of Lena’s cat’s litter.
At most, I think we had about 14 cats at one time. Two became Nine and other strays and adoptions added to the group. None of us would have placed bets on Osha outlasting them all. She was solitary. She didn’t like any of the other animals. For 15 years she refused to come in the house. She had “spots” that were “hers.” She would stay in these places constantly, only leaving to relieve herself or to eat. When she first ventured into the house she lived under the sink and every time we’d open the cabinets her eyes would glow out at us. For a while she switched to behind the dishwasher. Don’t ask me how she fit, even though she was a very small cat. For most of her life she hated being touched, petted, or interfered with in any way. She was wary of everything and everyone. She expected food, water and solitude.
Sometime in the last few years, she finally grew to love attention. If you started to pet her, you weren’t allowed to stop. She became so affectionate - but you still had to go to her. She never sought anyone out. Her final spot (for the last three years or so) was mom’s treadmill. She sat in the corner of it and watched everything. She glared reproachfully at anyone who moved her off to actually use the treadmill. We tried to give her cat beds, blankets, and other things to make the area more comfortable. She shunned them all. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more independent or determined cat. She knew her mind.
I am not sad she’s at peace. Her independence was compromised by her mobility and her body was breaking down. I’m glad that she died at home, rather than at a vet’s office, where we were going to take her yesterday. She would have hated that. But I’ll miss that tiny cat who survived.