Olive and Omens

My cat Olive adopted me the day my Dad passed away. I say she adopted me because she was a wild stray and great huntress. She did not have to seek me out for survival, yet she still chose me for companionship. Before Olive found me, I had an intuitive feeling that we were going to find each other. I was discussing my family situation with a friend when I declared, “when I go home, I will find an animal that needs my help.” I had never randomly found an animal at my parents house before, so I wasn’t entirely sure why I was making this declaration now. I packed up my bags in my one bedroom apartment in Toronto with a heavy feeling in the gut. I had to return to my hometown because my Dad was placed in palliative care the week prior. There was a small window of time left for his life after a lengthy battle with COPD. My dog Ruca, a 9 year old lab/German shepherd mix was watching me anxiously pack. I knew my anxiety was rubbing off on her, as she patiently watched me from her bed, curled up in a tight ball and gazing at me with an emphatic stare. Both my Dad and I were huge dog lovers and he taught me everything I knew about dog training, but he vehemently disliked cats. It wasn’t until living with roommates with cats, that I grew fond of felines. Even Ruca became very fond of her kitten friends and shattered the myth of dogs and cats' natural feud.

A few days after I had returned home, I noticed Ruca lingering at the edge of the property. I walked over thinking she might be harassing some rabbits. I looked to where she was staring and saw a petite tabby cat, with half a tail and piercing green eyes gazing back at me. I slowly walked over and cooed reassuring sounds. As I got within close distance, I crouched down and made the universal cat call, “psst, psst”. Within a minute the cat was brushing up against my leg, purring loudly and flopping on her back. I reasoned she was not feral and most likely someone’s pet cat that wanders the area, otherwise she would not be so affectionate. I leave the cat in the field and head inside, curious about who or if she belongs to someone. In the next couple days, she begins appearing more frequently and is getting closer to the house, until one night she joins me on the porch and sits on my lap. I’m melting and have fallen in love with this little tabby and I resolve to search for her owners, if she has any.

The next morning I put the cat’s picture up on a local lost and found pet website with her location and description. Within the hour a neighbour sends me a message with Olive’s story. She is a stray. Her mother was dumped on our road and gave birth to a litter of three kittens. Olive is the runt and she is bullied by her mother and siblings. A couple of the neighbour’s feed the cats but they do not belong to anyone. Often, the other cats won’t let Olive eat and force her away from the food. She lost half of her tail during the winter, most likely to frostbite. My heart ached for this poor, little bullied stray. It took me all of one second to decide that I would adopt her. I go and get her bowls, toys and food and start researching transitioning an outdoor stray to an indoor cat. A few hours after I have decided to keep Olive as my own, we get a call from the hospital. My Dad has taken a turn for the worst. My Mom goes to the hospital on her own because he is only allowed one visitor at a time due to COVID-19. I have a rock in my stomach as I wait to hear updates about my Dad, although I know there is only one way for the situation to turn. I try to keep myself distracted by playing with Olive and watching how Ruca and Olive interact. Then I received the call, it was my Mum letting me know my Dad had passed away. He went quickly.

I have told the story of Olive to people and some people assert she is an omen for me, a message sent from my Dad. I don’t believe that to be true. It’s a nice sentiment, but he wouldn’t have sent me a cat. It’s actually horribly ironic that I adopted a cat the day my Dad died because of his strong disdain for the creatures. However, she is a great example of what it means to be strong, resilient, and a survivor; all qualities that I could use in spades at the moment. Grief is not straightforward and there is no formula on how to process the death of a loved one. I am just happy that I have a warm, purring cat on my lap through it all.