Rosie Departs

Jen and Oni’s cranky old calico caught the ten AM express to the Big Sleep yesterday. With tears and heavy heart, they brought Rosie to the vet. It was time. It was the compassionate, merciful thing to do.

Last night we raised a toast or 12 and retold stories of her shenanigans and habits.

Rosie began this life as a homeless grifter on the streets of Lower Allston. Oni took her in but she was ‘permitted’ (hah, like Oni had a choice in the matter!) to come and go as she liked. And she liked. If Oni didn’t see her for a couple of days, he would only need to look in the windows of neighboring houses. Our opportunistic babe would be sitting comfy and pretty on sofa backs, tables and sills, just watching the world go by.

She always went home to Oni. She knew a fine, long term pigeon when she saw one.

When we all (Jen, Oni, The Amazing Bob, Erin and PJ) moved into that East Cambridge triple decker, Rosie came too. Of course. We left the doors open between our two apartments so that Rosie and her new, despised, bunk mate Thelma could have run of both flats as well as the big hallway.

This worked a treat for both of them. Thelma could, most often be found on the top shelf of my closet (shedding her long grey fur all over my jet black duds). Rosie took command of my comfy, mint green Lawrence chair.

When it came time for them to go home, back upstairs, for the night, Thelma would dash full tilt, tumbling over the landing, as though the Inferno’s hounds were on her tail.

portrait of a cat as a young introvert

Rosie? Not so much. She was still a young babe -- maybe 5 -- but she’d sit on our landing and look up at me with this gaze which, roughly translated, communicated ‘Oh, I can’t possibly make it up these awfully steep and dangerous cliff steps. Why don’t you pick me up and tote me?’ And I would. Always. Why? Hello, Cat Doormat here!

As our girl aged, she spent more and more time on Jen’s lap. In fact, I’m not sure that Jen was aware that her thighs aren’t naturally all calico furry and warm until yesterday. She slept with Jen every night too -- under the covers and at her waist. Rosie would become quite peevish when Jen would roll onto her side without first filing the proper paperwork or otherwise giving adequate warning. Did I mention? Jen also belongs to the Cat Doormat Lodge. Of course.

So yeah, at some point along the way, Rosie laid claim to Jen.

Our furry freak is survived by Thelma, who seems to be too wired and generally crazed to know that she’s an old gal, and young Skitter, who will only allow Jen to pat her no matter how many treats Oni and I offer as bribe. Damn cats!

Viva la Rosie!