His name was Oskar, but I frequently called him “Mr. Wabbit” … because he was such a “wascal.”
My mother gave him to me as a birthday present in 1994 … the year my grandmother passed away. That period of time marked a major turning point in my life in so many ways, and this little guy rode the waves of change with me.
He was there when I quit corporate to follow my dream.
He, and his lovely Princess, a little black cat I rescued, was there when my first marriage dissolved soon thereafter and I became a nomad, moving five times in three years.
He was around when I met my second husband. (He promptly fell in love with him … animals know the good ones … it was a sign ;-)).
He was my buddy through thick and thin ~ a source of comfort and laughter and joy.
He was a snuggler … with me; with the bears. He liked to talk. He was a good listener. And he took good care of his Princess.
Oskar was an outdoor cat (that is to say, he was allowed outside) and always came home when I whistled the tune, “To dream the impossible dream …”
He had purr-sonality plus. He liked to be the centre of attention when we had visitors, loved to play with the dogs or curl up with them on the couch.
He lived to the ripe old age of 17 when, sadly, he succumbed to cancer.
I will always remember my Wascally Wabbit.
Yes, he’s gone … but certainly not forgotten.
Thanks for visiting …
©Dorothy Chiotti … Aimwell CreativeWorks 2014