This is Otis.
We adopted Otis from a rescue organization more than 14 years ago and were told he was returned twice due to "allergies." One family kept his brother though.Yeah, they weren't allergic to Otis' brother. He must have gotten a different kind of cat fur. I think Otis was returned because he was mischievous with a specialty in being really annoying.
My Siamese meows at my door for breakfast. Otis won't meow. Instead he barges into the room and knocks everything off the nightstand....everything. My son Elliott doesn't have a nightstand, so Otis knocks over his garbage can and paws at it, making that crinkly sound of paws against plastic lining and making a huge mess in the process.
Meowing would be easier, cleaner, and MUCH less annoying.
Otis once escaped and lived on the lam for four months during the coldest winter in Wisconsin. Somehow he survived. He found a four year old boy to take care of him. I wonder if he ever bit him.
He is about 15 years old now. It is hard to tell exact age with rescue cats. We noticed he was getting kind of scrawny, especially along his spine. The vet told us to prepare ourselves. We may have to make a decision about Otis soon.
It is hard to imagine the end of Otis. Our pets barge into our lives and are bigger than life. Logic tells us their time is short. The lifespan of a tabby cat is somewhere between 12 and 20 years. My vet told me he is definitely geriatric. He and I both know it. We ignore it. I put extra blankets on the couch for him, and when he can't get on the couch, I put a heating pad under his cat bed. I chop up his prescription food for his old cat disease and add a little water to keep him hydrated. We are all a little more careful with Otis, not dropping him from our arms anymore, but setting him on the ground to save his joints the shock of landing. But we still depend on him to patrol the house and yard for pests. He is the best mouser we ever had, and he still has a great nose.
The neighborhood kids know Otis, because he is pressed against the door when they come over, trying to escape between their legs in the most annoying of ways. We recently had eight middle school boys sleep in the basement for the night and Otis chose to snuggle up with the warm bodies on the floor, perhaps hoping to find a dropped Flaming Hot Cheetoh in the process.
I don't know how to live without that. Life without Otis would be a lot less annoying. Folks can drink coffee in peace and water glasses will not longer be in peril. Babies are safe from attack. We can sleep until seven and get out of bed without having to pick up a mess or trying to find where our glasses were tossed on the floor.
Someday we will have to make a decision about Otis, but it is not today.