Appreciation (44) – Otti Lost

Appreciation (44) – Otti Lost
Torrey Orton
May 27 , 2012

Lost – 17 March '12

1 yr old male, neutered, micro-chipped, smallish, lean, long tail, white patches on feet; Frayed stretch collar with bell

Indoor and outdoor cat

Much missed

Big reward!!

Jane and Torrey Orton,
11 Wertheim St.


This is what / who we lost two months ago…here one morning, gone the same evening…last seen overlooking a neighbour's yard from the crab-apple tree at that point where he was almost too far up and out to get back, though he had often enough before. So it wasn't catty incompetence that got him. Perhaps it was his mini-cat look, never seeming likely to grow into one of the monsters (the aptly named Grace Jones for one) we've had over the years, or just a late bloomer in the maturity stakes – all the makings of a perfect storm of activity when aroused in the post dinner rush around the house which, decreasingly over our 5 month acquaintance, included some surges up the curtains rising to our 12 foot ceilings.


He had a memorable capacity for escaping the grip of a shoulder hug, from having been passively hoisted up to my standing shoulder height for a nuzzle. This was him indulging me of course, and his will ran out after a minute. Unlike some of his predecessors, he did not launch a flurry of escape moves, tearing up a shirt or sweater on the way. He extended himself arching down from under my arm like a slinky slowly opening up its rings, without pushing from the back. More like a worm moving its forepart along the ground while the after remains still, then catches up as the fore remains still. All the while he was reaching for the floor and got there sound and painlessly. Recovered dignity and distance with little rejection or recrimination.


I miss him still 10 weeks later with spontaneous expectations he'll be waiting for breakfast (always too late in his mind) or begging for dinner (never too early in his mind*), in both cases doing a winding dance around and between my feet on the way towards the kitchen. Never a good move for me, but his anyway. The passage was always marked by an incessant pulse of kitten squeaks he was only just outgrowing.


There was and is an amazing hole in the house left by something so slight, Egyptian cat-like bat ears notwithstanding. He was especially present at bed times and mornings – first to bed, first to rise; the latter less pleasing because he always debarked for eats 45-60 minutes early and signalled expectation and disappointment by head-butting the service sector and squalling from the distance of the dining room.


Wildly appreciated, too short stayed, too soon gone.




*cats differ from dogs in being able to turn their minds on and off around humans; that's why they are the superior pet. They're in charge, sometimes, with the force of disregard always present as a seeming threat to the authenticity of their smoodging devotion.