There you are, curled up and comfy in your little round bed. You are older, now and although you have occasionally slunk around the yard and almost approached me for a friendly pat, you didn't and I was sad. But then, you did catch me frolicking about the yard with the new cat, Nosy. Well, nosy started it, and it was every time I went out to the yard, I just had to respond and romp around with her. I really shouldn't blame you, Ollie.
At Christmastime when Ollie you started to come into my house, in the kitchen, you would let me scratch your golden head, and then, one day you went directly in and not to get entangled in Christmas lights, or the many newspaper pages everywhere, you immediately found our stairs and sat on them, watching our every move. This was the beginning of snapping your picture. You were very cooperative. And one day, you discovered Miriam's warm lap, where she would coddle you and tell you (as if I hadn't told you enough times) how lovely you were, scratch behind your ear, move her fingers across your fluffy back.
Ollie, Ollie -- what a golden beauty you were -- oh, you are! you are! Soft, yellow body, expressive eyes, so familiar with this old house now, how you wandered from porch to living room, and even upstairs. Do you remember the time you went into the attic? Did you get lost?
I first used to scratch behind your ear and enjoy the touch of your fluffy back when you managed to slip into the house somehow with your family, my very dear neighbors, and if I sat down, you would be on my lap, and would purr and purr and I would become SO LAZY, with you. When you would hear the door open and Carl or Denise came in to bring you home, you would run and hide, and we'd all track you down -- it wasn't easy.
Sometimes you would sit on the stairs, just watching, as we scurry about the house, Anyway, one day you had gone upstairs and I opened the attic door for you, as usual you disappeared into the attic. I don't think there were any mice there, but maybe you did, because you stayed in there a long, long time. There was a small opening in the floor of the attic, a cat could with its curiosity easily sllip through it. That was my thought then, and I called to you "Ollie, Ollie, here, Ollie," but no response, not even a slight purr. I became more concerned and rushed downstairs, across the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, stopping at the stairs to the cellar. What would I find there? I didn't even want to imagine what I'd find. I was the "scaredy cat"!
Coward that I am, I went after Denise. and there you were, curled up as comfy as one cat could be, in your little round bed. Your eyes looked at me -- I don't know what you were thinking.
