Remembering Otis
Heaven reclaimed one of their angels. Last week my family lost Otis, a beloved friend and companion, gentle and sweet. Too gentle, and too sweet for this world. Otis was only two years old, survived by his precocious brother Barney, and litter mates Louisa and Edger.
I see Otis everywhere. In the shaded cool of our backyard trees, and the space between piles of folded laundry, and the edge of our bed, where he curled into a ball for afternoon naps. I can still hear a soft meow announcing his arrival at dinner time, the low rumble of his purr when I hugged him, the little chirps he squeaked when asleep, and the hunting calls shared with his brother when it was time to play. I can feel the reach from his paws when he wanted me close, and the grip of his front paw, holding my finger between his toes, telling me everything was going to be okay.
I am changed by Otis. His young soul taught my old soul how to breathe again. Reminded me to take a moment, collect myself, and remember what really mattered. Our evening snuggles washed away my day’s stress. I could feel my heart rate lower, and I started saying “I love you” more.
To know Otis was to be loved by him. Evenings gathered around him, all of us crowded close, petting, loving, and laughing. Otis brought us together, and we became a closer family. We shared stories, and photos, and videos of his antics. Nightly wrestling matches with his brother, the numerous ways he defeated perimeter netting meant to keep him safe in our yard, and the time he appeared at the back door with a bird in his mouth. But we shared even more photos of love; hugs and kisses, and times cuddled on the couch or under a blanket. His love, and his brother’s, became a familiar way to express emotion towards one another.
His memory stalks our hallway, and his spirit fills our home. We’re sad for how little time we had, but feel joy in so many memories, and everything we got to know about him. Our time together was too short, and also long enough to remain in our hearts forever.
This was us. Campbell, CA
Rest in peace, dear friend. I’ll look for you when my time comes, ready for a long afternoon nap. You’ll tuck me in like you always did, lean against my side, and start purring, and we’ll be together again.
Until then, enjoy the shade.