oz

Oz

In 1994 my cat, "Oz", died. He had been with me through the toughest times in my life (college, the pregnancy and birth of my first child, and all the traumas of growth associated with those transitions). He was attached to me, not to places (odd for a cat). When he died I mourned as deeply as I have for any human who has departed. For several years (until last Fall) I would feel him jump on my bed at night and curl up to sleep (he was heavy in life and spirit, so you would feel the bed move and could see the depression). Needless to say, the other cats wouldn't come near the bed when he was there. When he finally left for good, the other cats started to get on the bed and sleep with me.