Otis the Cat

It began in the fall of 1997. Our son-in-law was in the woods hunting when he came upon a tiny tabby-colored kitten in the crotch of a tree. It was raining, and the kitten was drenched, cold, and meowing up a storm. He took sympathy, picked him up, and petted him for a few minutes. Afterward, he put it down on the ground and headed for his truck to go home. He was cold and wet, as well. Well, that little kitten followed him out of the woods. Looking around and noticing the kitten still with him, he picked it up again and put it in the truck.

As he drove along, he realized he could not take this kitten home because his wife would insist on keeping it as a pet. That wouldn't work because the guy is a dog person. So, to resolve it and have some time to figure this out, he dropped the kitten off at his friend's house, which would give him time to figure out what he should do. Upon arriving home, he told his wife about the kitten and asked if she knew anyone who might like to adopt it. When she called her mother, who is my wife, we entered this situation. Shortly after the call, it was decided. We were to head over to the kitten. Upon arriving, we were astonished at this kitten's belly size. The friend, not knowing any better, had given it an entire can of cat food. Of course, it was hungry and just ate it all down. We spent some time playing with the little thing, and of course, the next thing I knew, we were driving home with a new family member.

And he, indeed. became a member of the family. We named him Otis. Very quickly, Otis became forever attached to our hip and just loved being around us. He loved playing with almost anything you might have lying on the floor. His favorite, though, was yarn. Oh, he didn't run with it nor take it off the skein. He just loved the touch and feel of it and would rub his nose in it whenever possible. My wife was knitting a lot during that time, and you'd think Otis would have been a pain, but no, not at all. He would lie next to her, on her lap or on her shoulder. In that way, the yarn she pulled for use would be dragged up his nose and between his ears. He was in heaven, occasionally purring. Such fun.

While we’re speaking of yarn, there was another use for yarn from his perspective. If he happened upon a length of it on the floor, it became his. Grabbing the end in his mouth, he’d drag it in, out, and around the legs of the dining room table. It was such fun to watch him— especially when he had crisscrossed it enough, so that he’d come upon the other end. It seemed to be a dilemma for him, but eventually he’d move slightly towards it. Of course, it would move, and the chase was on. He never caught it, but round and round he’d go. It certainly gave us quite a bit of entertainment.

Then in 2012, 15 years after he became a member of the house, we took Otis to Dr. Viano at Community Animal Hospital for a regular checkup. "That doesn't feel right," she said while examining him. There was a lump in this lower stomach area. Using her fingers, she felt it a lot and suggested we take an x-ray to see what might be happening. After an x-ray and many tests, she determined he had a tumor about the size of a baseball attached to his liver. The recommendation was to take him to a specialist in Westchester County for surgery. Linda and I talked about this and decided that at the age of 15, we just couldn't put him through that. We reasoned that he is approaching the natural end of life, and we'd care for and love him until the end.

It was the end of the summer in 2014 when we noticed that Otis began to eat less and less. Up to this point, he seemed like his old self, playing roughhousing with Oscar, our other cat. He was always interested in going to the dish for breakfast and supper. I'm still trying to determine whether this was out of hunger or habit. But now, he licked a bit but didn’t eat with the same hunger. Because of this, Otis quickly began to lose weight. It got to the point that his hind end had become just fur, skin, and bone. It came to the point where I would try to feed him multiple times throughout the day, during which he would maybe come and lick a little before walking away. Then this would be repeated in the evening. We assumed that he wasn’t eating much because of the tumor, which had become the size of a baseball. We thought that it was just squeezing and not allowing room for his stomach to accept food. It had become heartbreaking to watch him wither away like that. I mean, this was our long-term friend.

Our final answer came from a planned trip to Cape Cod in preparation for my 50th high school class reunion. Our neighbors watched and fed our cats whenever we went away, which came in handy because we would do the same for them. To fit it into their schedules, they could only come first thing in the morning and then at night, and knowing Otis’ eating patterns, we knew it wouldn’t work. He had to be fed several times a day at this point. It was a hard decision, but before we left for the reunion, we decided that it was time for Otis to go home. We went back and forth for days but ultimately decided this because of his poor quality of life. I called the vet to schedule an appointment with Dr. Viano on a Tuesday and was told that she would be in the office on Thursday. The appointment was set for 2:00 in the afternoon.

That day and the next, things went sort of routine. But, of course, in the back of our minds was that upcoming appointment, so we paid lots of attention to Otis. One thing that we did discuss was what we would be doing with his remains. The options were to have the vet dispose of him, which was not an option for us. The other three were one, take him home and bury him; two, have a private cremation, meaning we'd get his ashes back; or three, a general cremation, where he's cremated along with other animals, and we get nothing back. We finally decided that we wanted a private cremation and would bring him here and spread the ashes over the flower garden. I think, in a way, we felt that he'd be closer to us if we did.

On Wednesday evening, as I put the food down for the three cats, Oscar, Otis and Coal, it dawned on me that this would be the last supper for Otis. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I pushed them back inside as if nothing had happened and proceeded with the feeding. That evening was tranquil in the house and said nothing much about Otis. Waking up in the morning meant another meal, which would be his last. As per our usual activity lately, for Otis, this meant trying to get him to eat as much as we could. I don't know why, but we did. Sometime in the morning, saying nothing, I went upstairs, got the cat carrier, and put it by the front door. There wouldn’t be a smile in the house for days.

If you've ever had to put a pet to sleep, you must understand this story very well. Each meal, decision, discussion, or action, twisted a knot in my stomach. Otis was one of those cats that just got under your skin and stayed with a string tied to your heart.