R.I.P. Oreo

Oreo 2001-2009

My beloved Oreo died suddenly 5 months ago.  It’s been a difficult loss. Losing a pet is never easy. The depth of this grief surprised me. The following is excerpt from Geneen Roth’s blog. Thank you, Geneen. The healing has begun.


“Do not grieve for me. I am in a place where tuna fish juice flows like water, where I can jump like the wind and every place is soft and sunny. If you must, grieve for what you won’t allow yourself to have. Grieve for all the ways you separate yourself from this radiance: from laying down in a patch of sun at two o’ clock on any old day, from knowing you are beloved on the earth.” — Geneen Roth

Today is Oreo’s Birthday


The Birthday Cat

My daughter, Jamie, was seven at the time of Oreo’s first birthday. She thought he should have a party and made invitations. Oreo invited our other cat and the teenagers who worked for me. We all ate tuna, sang Happy Birthday and had ice cream cake with a candle. Jamie wrapped up some of Oreo’s cat toys and “helped” him open them. Of course, the cat was completely unimpressed with everything but the tuna. He did lick some ice cream cake off a spoon but threw up.

The tradition continued for a few years. When we moved the business outside the house, the teenagers were no longer invited but we did eat tuna and ice cream cake. A few more years went by and we stopped having cake but Jamie and I still shared a can of tuna with the cats.

Today we celebrated Oreo’s eighth birthday. My daughter is now 14. She opened up a can of tuna but only the cats ate it. I sang Happy Birthday by myself.

Being a cat, Oreo is quite satisfied with the changes in our tradition. As a mother, I am a little sad.

Fat Ferals

MY cats

I have a cat thing. My husband hates it. His mother and three of his sisters have that weird animal hoarding thing. He knows that my cat thing could easily become that weird animal hoarding thing so he has imposed a two-cat maximum in our house.

He’s right (did I just say that?) With no boundaries, I would definitely be collecting cats. The ASPCA would eventually need to be called in… it would be on the 5:00 news… the neighbors would be interviewed… I would finally be on Oprah. (I would be divorced.)

Imagine how excited I was when we moved into our current warehouse to find out there was a feral colony right next door. The wonderful
(crazy cat)
ladies that take of them let me unofficially join their cat club.

That’s right, I could pretend they were mine and as long as I didn’t bring any more home, my husband couldn’t complain.