Nostalgic Wax, Part II: Missing Oscar-Tyrone

One thing for sure...

I am sorely missing the Original Oldcat...

Oscar-Tyrone.

I was looking for something in my phone photo gallery, and I came across some pictures of him. Of course I tear up.  I inherited him from the ex-husband after the divorce, but we had him since he was a kitten, and he died at the ripe old age of 17 years old. 

This is a picture of him a month or so before he died.

I was sitting on the sofa watching television and crocheting. And I finally noticed that he'd jumped up on the sofa and watched. Now, they know not to lay on or mess with my yarn. But I figured I would leave him alone since he wasn't trying to kneed or scratch at anything.

And it seemed to be his favorite thing to do off and on... Sit there and watch me. So that day, I just left him be.

There is one thing I have never liked... being watched by him. He has this really hard surly stare. And I would be wondering what the world he was thinking.

Funny story: Some 4 or 5 years ago, I woke up one morning and he was watching me. I think it was just that he knew what time I woke up in the mornings. So let me tell you, it was a bit unnerving to open my eyes and there he is, maybe a foot from my face... staring.

Well, one morning, I woke up and I heard the following in my spirit:

You see how hard this cat watches you?? That's how hard I watch over your life.  

Scared me so BAD that I jumped and yelled at him.

LOL.

He usually runs off. But he just sat there and stared.  I left him alone... and considered the gravity of the moment.

You know, that never happened again.

But you best believe, I will never forget that.

And I think of that whenever I am feeling a bit depressed, confused or afraid. What I heard that morning from somewhere deep inside always comes to mind. I may feel alone, but I'm never alone. God watches over my life. He got this. And I am thankful for that.

And I'm thankful for Oscar-Tyrone.

He had been with me for 17 years. He saw a lot. Oh the stories he could've told if he could talk.Thank goodness he couldn't. Many of those stories did NOT need to be told!

Nevertheless... Thanks OT for what you brought to my life.

Good-Bye Oscar-Tyrone.

I was looking through my cell phone and I saw my last few pictures of Oscar-Tyrone. I picked a couple to post.

I knew he didn't have much longer to go, as he has slowed down so much, so I took him outside to get some fresh air and to let him play around in the grass. He'd been sleeping a lot, so going outside woke him up a bit.

I know that had to shock him. He was an inside cat and had rarely been outside in his 17 years. When I did take him outside, I would have to hold him tight so he wouldn't run away.

But he seemed content with this little bit of time out.

At one time, he stood up and scampered towards something. I ran over to see what it was. It was a wasp. I said "Oh no, dude... you bite a wasp, you get stung. And that'll be a problem for real!"

But he seemed to enjoy his time outside. He wandered behind the bushes and all around. He wore himself out, though.  When he'd climbed the stairs and lay on the porch, I knew he'd had enough and it was time to go back in the house.

And this is my very last picture of him, taken 3 days before he died.

He was laying on the ottoman on his blanket. As usual, he was staring at me hard.  His scowl was especially hard in that pic. Yet, he would just stare at me... then he would jump down from his spot and walk over to where I was lounging on the sofa. After much more staring, he would jump up on my lap.  I rubbed him until he fell asleep. And sometimes we would listen to some Mahalia Jackson.

But he died on Columbus day, some time in the middle of the night. He hadn't come out of the closet at all the Sunday before (he would usually make an appearance to drink water and hit the litter box), so I knew he didn't have much to time to live. I sat his box, some plastic bags and some gloves next to the closet just in case I needed them. I found him and carefully placed him in three bags and placed him in the box which I had lined with one of my winter scarfs. I taped up the box and later wrote his name and a couple of messages on the box. Then I placed his box in the garage until I could dig his grave in the backyard.

Now digging his grave... that was more than a notion. It was going well until I got down to that red georgia clay. It might as well had been concrete. Between that and the mosquitoes biting the stew out of me, I was done.

So I drove around my neighborhood looking for one of the locals who helps me with yard work. He was supposed to stop through that day, but hadn't due to the rain. So I found him after a few minutes...

... and he came over to finish digging the grave under a tree in the backyard.

He needed a pick axe to get through that clay (I knew it wasn't just me. I ain't that weak).

I didn't want to stand there while he dug the grave. I played around with Pam (my mazda), which is parked in the back of the driveway next to the backyard. Cowgirl Cre's father had just replaced the brake switch that had broken, and he told me that I needed a quart and a half of oil. So I checked my oil and added more while Mr. Dwayne finished digging the grave.  He called me over when he finished.

He asked if I had any last words or requests.

I didn't have much to say. I was more concerned with not embarrassing myself by falling out on the ground crying.

I slapped my arm hard. The mosquitoes were at me again.

"He was a good cat," I said. "He had a good 17 years of life. A good cat, he was. Good-bye Oscar-Tyrone."

And with that, Mr. Dwayne placed his box in the ground.

And I watched as he covered him up. I blinked back my tears.

 I held my composure, though. I didn't wail as he packed the dirt down.

I thought I should sing a song... or play some Mahalia or something.  But the mosquitoes... ugh.

"You want me to cut the grass for you?" Mr. Dwayne asked.

"Yes," I said. I had worn myself out from the one hour's worth of digging. I didn't have the energy to mow grass. And I wasn't in the mood.

He went into my garage and got my lawn mower. I stood out there and reminesced for a moment... until I heard the hard whir of the lawn mower. 

And that was that.

I still need to go buy a marker for his grave. A nice brick with his name painted on it will do. 

I have been fine.  There has been a bit of tearing up and sniffling when I am around the house and I am calling Callie Jo "Oscar" by mistake. Or if I see some old pictures of him, I tear up a little.  And I guess that is to be expected.

But 17 years is a long time. If that cat could talk, he could tell some stories about me...

"That LadyLee," he would say. "That Oldgirl has done a bunch of questionable mess."

Yes I have. And "mess" is not the word he'd use... He could tell the whole story. Yes indeed.

He was always a loyal animal, as animals tend to be.

I am not much of a cat or dog person. But one thing about animals: they don't judge like humans do. No they don't. 

This warrants a song of the week... One that sent me a cryin' while standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes yesterday.



My goodness. I must remove that from my oldschool rap playlist.

Or maybe not.

Goodbye Oscar-Tyrone.

I will always remember you, good cat.

RIP Oscar-Tyrone... October 1997- October 13 2014

Oh man.

I tell you it was so hard to go and find Oscar-Tyrone gone this morning.  It was to the point that I didn't want to go check on him. I knew he would be gone. But when Tazzee texted to ask how he was doing I said not too good. I'd just woke up and wasn't looking forward to it. But I opened the hall closet door, and looked in.

And there he was, looking as if he was sleeping peacefully. All day yesterday, he would look up, and he would look up at me with that familiar surley scowl, as if to say "Gal, would you close that door?"

He didn't look up this time. He wasn't asleep. I shook his shoulder.

He was gone.

And I cried.

Poor Callie Jo is all confused, not knowing what's going on. She sat and watched wide-eyed as I put on some latex gloves and grabbed some plastic bags and removed his body. I placed him in a box I had ready for the past few days next to the closet.

That was so hard. But I was ready. But man... my heart wasn't ready.

He lived a good 17 years... He was my ex-husband's cat and he didn't want to break our cats up. So I was a little miffed that I had to take care of him. I guess it was just that he was a constant reminder of love lost.

But the Oldcat grew on me. He became more surley over the past couple of years. I guess a bad liver and gall bladder had him like that.

But 17 years is a long time. He has lived in many places, even in New Orleans.

And ya'll know how he do with his party beads...

Yes. He knew how to keep it gangster.

That's OT for you.

No one mean mugs like him. Human or animal. No one.

And there were many times when I was running around looking for him, only to find him staking me out from the beams above my living room.

He hasn't been well enough to get out on those beams in over a year now. I missed him out there.

And he even tried to get along with the feisty Callie Jo... She spent time grooming him in his last days. I think she knew that it was time to get serious and not give him a hard time.

Dear Original Oldcat...

Thanks for hanging with this Oldgirl for all these years. You were so good. Too good for me.

And now you're gone.

Thanks for always being there with me...

Rest in peace.

Love,

LadyLee.

Happy Birthday, Oscar-Tyrone

Happy 17th Birthday, Oscar-Tyrone," whispers LadyLee.

I whisper because he is sleeping. Heck, he's always sleeping.

He's sleeping with a frown on his face in the picture above. I came home to find him a bit stressed because he was constipated. Some of his hard poop had stuck to his but so I had to clean him up. He did NOT like being handle like that. And I don't think it helped that Callie Jo stood by watching with a look of bewilderment on her face as if to say, "What the world are you doing to him, LadyLee!?"

And for some odd reason I thought he was turning 18 today. But he was born in 1997. So that makes him 17.

He is old and sickly now. He has a funky liver, but his kidneys are still good. And he is hard of hearing. He needs to go to the vet, but I think they would encourage me to put him down. And I don't want to do that. Nor will I be spending two or three grand to fix him up temporarily. He doesn't seem to be in any pain, just quiet. And he likes to be held and rubbed.

I hold my breath every day when I come home. I look for him if he's not out in the open. I don't want to find that he has slipped away.

He rarely eats these days. I think his teeth are bad.  Right now he refuses to eat his expensive food. I mix some of Callie's food with water and I add some peas and carrots to it. I puree that up for him. He seems to favor that. And I see him walking around a little now, and his tail is wagging. But I miss the sprite Oscar-Tyrone. Even Callie Jo is looking at him like uh... "Maybe I don't need to do the flying squirrel jump on his head." She leaves him alone for the most part. But he was playing with her yesterday, however much he could. He is even sitting quietly next to his food dish, letting me know in his surly way that he may be hungry. I guess those peas and carrots are giving him life.

But for now, when he is sleeping, I lay my cell phone next to him and let Mahalia Jackson's Greatest Hits play soflty. He's an old man, so I know he has to like some good Mahalia.

So Happy Birthday, Oscar Tyrone. 

It has been a great 17 years, dude!

Let's try to make it to year 18:)

Lessons in Sharing, Part 2

When you have extra, always share with your friend.

Because sharing is pretending to be caring.

Fake That Sleep

When you don't want to be bothered...

Cover your face with your paw and pretend to be asleep.

From Callie and Oscar's booklet titled "Tips on Ways to Get Your Owner to Leave You Alone".

Lessons in Sharing

So it seems as if Sister Callie Jo is getting big enough to take over Oscar-Tyrone's favorite sleeping spots.

So he tries to make the best of it, be the bigger man, and share. 

As you can tell from the look in his eyes, he's not particularly happy about this arrangement.

But alas, sleep is sleep.  What's the harm in sharing?

So he curls up on his half of the ottoman and goes to sleep. Callie Jo does the same.

Callie Jo is getting her beauty sleep, but she is one of those young chicks that won't sleep in one place.  She has to turn what seems like every five minutes or so. 

Then she decides to just stretch completely out.

And then she throws that leg over Oscar's back end.

All I know is that I laid on the sofa and fell asleep myself. Then something jarred me from my own beauty sleep. A BIG fight broke out between Sista Callie and Oscar. He yelled at her something awful. I wish I could interpret cat language. Whatever he said was brutal.

I guess she moved one time too many and he got sick and and tired of it all.

He kicked her off the ottoman and she went to her favorite spot: under my bed.

"You should have kicked Callie off in the first place, dude," I said.

Let me be quiet. At least the old cat was trying to share.

Trying.

Oscar-Tyrone- King of Bling

I am finding these days that I have to be mindful of what's laying around the house, as Sister Callie Jo likes to carry stuff around from one place to another. Let's just say I have socks everywhere. Sigh.

And then last Sunday, she was walking proudly across the floor with a chain of Mardi Gras beads in her mouth. I have NO idea where she got those from. Maybe from under the bed. These days she likes to hang out under there. (Thank goodness for us all... as it gives us a break from her).

I snatched it out of her mouth... and put it around Oscar-Tyrone's neck.

And this was quite befitting, since the BET awards were on.

He was dressed up for the festivities.

Show us your bling, Oscar. 

Come on dude, don't be shy. (Maybe he's just irritated because Callie Jo is hanging on his back in the picture. Sigh).

He has the fly gold dice chain!

The BET awards were quite boring, so he went to sleep.

Something went down to catch his attention, though. I'm not sure what, because the awards show was quite boring.

And by shows end, his chains got a little loose.

And there is NO rapper on the planet who can mean mug like MC Oscar-T. None.

Eyes of Fury! True King of Bling.

He has that look that says "I wish a sucka would try to step to me! You don't want none of this!"

And he deserves a rap song. Yes he does. For putting up with Callie Jo. And for wearing those blinging gold dice around his neck.

He (and I and we ALL) deserve some REAL rap music from 25-30 years ago. BET awards always make me realize how far downhill rap music has gone.

Happy Earth Day... From Oscar-Tyrone

Hello there.



LadyLee is busy right now, so I am taking over her blogging for the day.

It's me... Oscar-Tyrone.

Call me Oscar. LadyLee calls me Oscar-Tyrone. Oscar sounded too "white" to her...

I don't now why she thinks because she is black that I am black.

Maybe my name is Oscar because I am a caucasian cat. I don't think she ever thought about that. And I am not going to explain it to her.

Happy Earth Day to you.

LadyLee isn't even thinking about Earth Day. We are talking abot a woman who will fall asleep with every light left in the house. And let's not even talk about the plastic bottles and aluminum cans she throws in the trash.

She is not an earth day type of girl. No she is not.

So you have me.



So I was sitting in a chair in the dining room and I saw something that caught my attention. It was a picture of another cat.

I wanted to jump up on the table and get a better look, but LadyLee would have a complete fit if I did so. Let's just say it's been 15 years since I got the notion to jump up on a table.

I hit it with my paw. It wasn't alive. And I saw that it was some type of card. I opened the card and it had words. I don't read very well, so I think I will just let you read it for yourself:

That is from a kitten shelter. Dorothy, one of the readers who won one of the $44 gift cards during the LadyLee Birthday Sweepstakes, wanted her gift card donated to the Tiny Paws Kitten Rescue.

LadyLee was perplexed about that one.

I, Oscar, was elated. Anything to help my fellow brothers and sisters. That could buy kitty litter. And cat food.

(LadyLee only thinks about herself. She would've used that card to buy some groceries, makeup, and a couple of packs of panties from the Wal-mart. She is so crass, she is.)

I closed the card, and looked back at the picture on front.

Look at that little thing. Thank goodness there are kind people at Tiny Paws to take such good care of him.

That little kitten is a lucky one. Because if it was left up to LadyLee to hold a little one like that and bottle feed him like that?

He just would not make it. Unless I can figure out how to nurse him myself. And I am not lactating. Never have, and never will.

LadyLee whines and complains about my $70 a month special cat food. It's not my fault that I have liver and digestion issues. I am 17 years old. What does she expect?

She would really be whining about feeding such a little one with a bottle. With her crass self.

I would have to lead the poor kitty over to my water bowl and hope he drinks. He will, as he will quickly find out that LadyLee will be way off on his feeding schedule.

Sigh.

She's looking for a kitten right now, she is. I hope she gets one who can feed and clean himself. I really do.

My paws are tired from typing, so I think I will leave you with a special song. It is expecially nice, as it talks about rain. LadyLee seems to like it alot.



Maybe it will one day help her to decide to gather and conserve rain water. That would be nice.

Now, you go on out and make it a Happy Earth Day.

Recycle some paper, aluminum or plastic.

Save the whales.

Better yet, save a kitty.

xxxooo

Oscar

Lessons from The Original Oldcat

The Original Oldcat Oscar-Tyrone teaches a class on how to properly nap during the ATL Snow Jam 2014.

That is all.

(And he has been this way for hours...)

Saturday 7... The Oscar-Tyrone Edition

1. It rained this morning. And it is nice when it rains on a Saturday Morning. But it wasn't nice that I had to get out in the rain. It wasn't very cold and there wasn't very much traffic. So that was a good thing.

2. Why did I get out in the rain at 8:45 this morning? To take Oscar-Tyrone to the vet out on the Eaaaastsiiiiide. He had a 9:20 appointment.

3. It was a good drive, since virtually no one was out.

4. I may have been in the car at 8:45, but I didn't leave until 8:57. Why? Couldn't find my cell phone. I finally saw that it had fell out of my purse and was laying on the backseat. Sigh.

5. I bought Oscar a new carrier, which was much to small for him. He screamed and hollered all the way to the vet office.

6, He was shellshocked into silence when we walked into the vet office. Maybe he remembers the place. Not one yell, not one meow. Even when the vet assistant took him back somewhere for his bloodwork. Quiet as a mouse, he was.

7. Did I mentioned he was shell shocked? This is what shell shocked looks like:

Every time he heard a dog bark he was O_O.

Yes, he was a basket case.

Bonus:  He seems to be doing okay. He is a tad bit dehydrated. The bloodwork and urine, which is part of the annual exam, will tell much. He has maintained his weight pretty much over the last year, only losing 0.3 pounds. I told the vet he had some constipation issues, and that I have to mix beans, peas, and pumpkin with his food and plenty of water for him to eat. She said that he is having issues that most older cats have (he is 16).

So hopefully the Oldcat will be okay. If he needs more extensive help, I'm not going to be able to do it. It is much too expensive. He is running around playful and eating well. And that is a good thing.

Oscar-Tyrone... The Constipated Cat

Look at Oscar-Tyrone with the profile shot!

Way to pose for a picture O-T, You Original Oldcat!!

  And of course he looks surly as always.

I've been looking at him and hollering "Lighten up, Shorty! Put a smile on your face!"

Of course this doesn't work.

He sleeps a lot.  And I know he doesn't want to be bothered with me when he slaps his paw over his eyes.  This was his special way of sleeping when I was on furlough.

I would stand over him and holler "HEY! WAKE UP!"...

And he'd  ignore me. He knows if he just stays still, I will eventually go away.

It always works.

But right now, Oscar-Tyrone has another problem. He's been constipated.

I have NO idea what brought that on. Well maybe I do. I have been experimenting with mixing his food with other types of food. That may have brought it on. And this little dude pees a lot, but he is having trouble with his bowel movements.

He's walking around slow like a little old man with his booty all tooted in.  I go off to work, hoping that I don't come home to him laid out, gone on off to Glory. Sigh. But by the time I get home, he has worked it all out. But while cleaning his litter, I notice is fecal matter is hard. That's not good.

I don't want to spend some insane amount of money on the vet. He has an appointment coming up soon, and I will ask then. For now, I looked around online. I saw something about giving him an enema.

O_O

Ugh, I am NOT trying to get all scratched up. Oscar never scratches or bites, but an enema would probably make him go ballistic. No way.

I needed to do something, though. He's all slow acting. And he really wants to be held. Even when I am trying to crochet.

I am NOT down with that.

So I looked around some more online. I saw something about pumpkin and psyllium. I have been mixing his regular expensive cat food with mashed pumpkin (pure, no sugar or oil added), pureed broccoli or mashed english peas. I have also added a fourth of a teaspoon of psyllium husk powder every other day. I am not all that happy about spending a couple extra minutes preparing his food, but I cannot deal with his moving all slow and looking surly AND pathetic.

And guess what? That did the trick. Especially the pumpkin. I tried carrots, and that had him back at square one. I'm not sure what that is about.

So peas and mashed pumpkin is where it's at for this little Oldcat.

Now he can be content and rest in the sun.

Oscar-Tyrone just turned 16. He's definitely an old man, and I imagine that he doesn't have many years left.

But at least he doesn't have to be constipated.

I am happy about that.

And I am sure he is too.

Lucy!!!!!!! Uggggh!!!! *faints*

Lucy!!!!

Oh my beloved Lexus Lucy!!!!!!!

*hand to forehead in grief*

I crashed my beloved Lucy the Lexus!!!!

Oh goodness. Ya'll know how much I love Lucy!

Oh Lucy!

It wss written up as being my fault. Myself and the other driver where coming around a sharp up curve on a thin laned street and I was cited for not maintaining my lane.

Mind you, the other driver was driving a HUGE tow truck. Not the one that tows cars, but the one that tows big vehicles. HUGE. So big that when it you see it drive down a street with skinny lanes you wander out loud..."What on earth is he doing on this street?? Let me stay back because that truck is too close to the lane line!"

Anyway, his wheel spurs hit the back rear tire of my car when we were taking that sharp upcurve.

Man... that was the worse sound I've ever heard in my life! There was construction in that area, and the big metal road bandaids were in the road. I thought one of those suckers had come aloose and I had fell through the ground. It even flashed across my mind that I was falling through a sinkhole!!

(funny the stuff that goes through your mind when the unexpected is happening!)

I pulled over and jumped out the car and looked at the damage.

"Lucy!!!!!!!"

*drops to knees*

"Oh my beloved Lucy!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Lucy, Lucy.... LUCY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

*passes out on the hard concrete*

Oh, that hurt so bad to see my car all messed up like that... OHHH it hurt!!

*weeping all over again*

No, I didn't act like that. We called the police, and discussed what happened. I didn't see anything. I was busy trying to fall back a little from the car that was in the lane next to me. You know how it is when you spot a person who has NO idea where he is going... and you know that they might just get the unction to make a left hand turn from a far right lane.

UGH!!

And there were no witnesses.

And the tow truck driver looked like Santa Claus. How do you argue with Santa Claus?

Sigh.

He said I was on the line. And that is all jacked up since his Tow truck hardly fits in one lane. Sigh.

So I got charged with the accident.

The guy was cool, though. He rummaged through my trunk and pulled out my spare and change the tire. He knocked off some of the shrapnel debris. I gave him 10 bucks for doing that. (You know how I make sure I sow some seed. ESPECIALLY in the midst of some craziness. That dude coulda jumped out his truck and shot me.... but he didn't. Thank God for that.)

I didn't even know that I had a full size tire for a spare in the trunk. Imagine that.

But poor Lucy!!!

We had a most delightful conversation while waiting a hour for the police.

I drove Lucy home VERY slowly. It drives fine and straight, but when I went over a bump or through a bad patch of road, there was some scraping of the tire against the wheel base. So I decided that I will just park it until it it time to take it to the body shop next Thursday.

I have the full coverage, and that is good. I told the customer service rep that I want the type of insurance that if an alien fell out the sky and picked my car up and flew away with it... then I could get reimbursed.  LOL

(Couldn't you see me hollering and screaming when an alien snatches up my car.... then calmly calling the insurance company and saying... "Ya'll need to cut me a check. Thank you").

So it will get repaired. I hope they don't total it. The guys at work say that's not gonna happen. I hope not.

I would absolutely faint if they did. Because...

I LOVE LUCY!!!

Yes, I would faint. And tear my clothes and hair out. Then calmly say "Ya'll need to cut me a check. Thank you."

LOL

I went on home, and I said a prayer in the driveway while removing my things from the car. Then I went in and made up a praise song and had me a good ol' fashioned praise service around my kitchen island.

Oscar-Tyrone was staring at me as I sang and moved all about...

"Oh Lord I thank yoooooou... That I can walk, walk, walk, and I can kick, kick, kick, and I can twist, twist, twist... Oh Lord I thank you...."

*clap*clap*church shout*clap*clap*church jog around the kitchen*clap*clap*clap*

I just sang myself happy.

Because you know like I say all the time... People leave for work everyday...

And they don't make it home. Because they die in a car accident.

So even though I am inconveinced, I am alive. I walked into my house without injury. Lucy will be taken care of one way or another. But I walked away without a scratch.  Not one scratch.

"Oscar-Tyrone?" I said.

He meowed.

"I am calling a fast tonight. I am calling a fast of thanksgiving!"

He didn't look too pleased.

He was standing near his empty food bowl.

And he had that look that said "I don't care what fast you do. You just better be fast about popping a top on the cat food can and feeding me!"

"Dude, this fast is for me, not for you," I said as I mixed his special food with water and placed it in his bowl.

I sat his bowl of food on the floor. He was quite pleased.

And I had a very good evening, despite the car wreck. I took special joy in doing my nightly chores and the other things on my to-do list for the evening.

It felt good not to be laying up in a hospital somewhere after a wreck. I was thank for that.

It has been an interesting week. An interesting week indeed.

Hopefully we can get Lucy back right.

And if not... I will call up my sister...

And we'll just go buy another Lucy - Lucy, Jr.