A Tribute to Ollie

He came into my life one day back in 1993...a little black kitty, in a crate, carried by a friend, whose husband had found him toodling down West Main Street in Salem.  A little homeless kitty, on a mission...who knows what or where.  It was love at first sight.  He was a hellion.  He got in to everything.  He tore up my plants; he chewed through my stereo wires and electrical cords; he shredded paper towels and toilet paper.  Everyday, I would slowly open my front door and cautiously peer through the house to see what craziness had occurred while I had been at work.  He was a joy, he was a hoot, he was never a dull moment...this little Ollie of mine.  Don't ask me why I named him "Ollie".  It just seemed to suit.  He was the perfect black cat, full of personality, and never knowing what crazy habit he would pick up next.  He was long and slender, and had a purr like no other.  He had no problem telling me he was happy.  He walked on a leash, rolled in his catnip, and enjoyed his life. He brought me so much joy and in the last several years, I knew that his time was coming to an end and I would have to let go.  I was prepared...but, I wasn't.  I held him until the very end.  I buried my head in his fur and cried like I had lost my best friend.  I had.  Over the rainbow bridge, my little friend...I am missing you, so very much.