To Oreo Yeomans, a great cat
The inclusion of Oreo into the Yeomans family was completely by accident. Fourteen years ago in June my mother and I had gone to a pet store in the mall next to Lawrence West Station on a Saturday morning with the intention of purchasing hamster food as well as checking out birds for a pet for my sister. During this process I had noticed the tiny black and white kitten perched in the front window aching for love. I had lobbied for a cat in the house for years previous, but on this occasion my mother was astute enough to learn it was love at first sight. When we arrived home, my father was absolutly furious. He was not consulted and he thought that the animal would just be a burden on our lives and our furniture. After a month I caught him calming talking to the cat with no one else in the room.
Oreo's hunting skills were fantastic. Within two weeks we went from having a significant mouse problem to not a mouse in sight. Only twice after the arrival of the cat did we ever see a mouse in the house and as soon as it was discovered all we had to do was find Oreo, throw him in the room and he'd chase it straight out of the house no matter what floor it was on. He would even kill mice outside of the house and drag them to our porch to show off his skills. When he finally ran out of mice, Oreo scoured the neighbourhood for colourful balloons, and left their popped remains on our porch.
Oreo loved the outdoors. He would roll in the grass, the road and, the soil behind the flower garden. In his youth he proved himself to be the toughest cat on the block (even without front claws) yet you would still see him strolling through the bushes with the next-door neighbour's cat Polar, no doubt up to some mischeif. Every day he would parade down Strathallan Blvd to all the houses with young children who were convinced that he must be mistreated and should really be their cat.
More than anything else, Oreo was a friend. He always wanted to be around people and would meow at my door every night so he could sleep on my bed with him. In his early years, I woke up to him sleeping on my chest which led to an array of screams and claws. From that point on he consistantly slept on my legs. Oreo loved it when people petted his soft fur and scratched his chin. He'd follow you and mew at you until you did it and never got tired of it. He always seemed to know when you were in a bad mood and would rub his face up against you. He wasn't particularily vain. While he did enjoy being the center of attention he was never mean unless you did something to him. He purred like a motorboat and had a sonorous meow. He always came when you called his name or whistled his whistle even from blocks away unless he was trapped in the bottom of the linen closet where we put dirty laundry.
He was a big part of the family. We all loved him and as my mother and I said our goodbyes to him we could see in his eyes that he knew we loved him. No one could ask for more or less in a family pet.
I miss him.
Oreo's hunting skills were fantastic. Within two weeks we went from having a significant mouse problem to not a mouse in sight. Only twice after the arrival of the cat did we ever see a mouse in the house and as soon as it was discovered all we had to do was find Oreo, throw him in the room and he'd chase it straight out of the house no matter what floor it was on. He would even kill mice outside of the house and drag them to our porch to show off his skills. When he finally ran out of mice, Oreo scoured the neighbourhood for colourful balloons, and left their popped remains on our porch.
Oreo loved the outdoors. He would roll in the grass, the road and, the soil behind the flower garden. In his youth he proved himself to be the toughest cat on the block (even without front claws) yet you would still see him strolling through the bushes with the next-door neighbour's cat Polar, no doubt up to some mischeif. Every day he would parade down Strathallan Blvd to all the houses with young children who were convinced that he must be mistreated and should really be their cat.
More than anything else, Oreo was a friend. He always wanted to be around people and would meow at my door every night so he could sleep on my bed with him. In his early years, I woke up to him sleeping on my chest which led to an array of screams and claws. From that point on he consistantly slept on my legs. Oreo loved it when people petted his soft fur and scratched his chin. He'd follow you and mew at you until you did it and never got tired of it. He always seemed to know when you were in a bad mood and would rub his face up against you. He wasn't particularily vain. While he did enjoy being the center of attention he was never mean unless you did something to him. He purred like a motorboat and had a sonorous meow. He always came when you called his name or whistled his whistle even from blocks away unless he was trapped in the bottom of the linen closet where we put dirty laundry.
He was a big part of the family. We all loved him and as my mother and I said our goodbyes to him we could see in his eyes that he knew we loved him. No one could ask for more or less in a family pet.
I miss him.