Oc, my Octagon was an incredibly beautiful tuxedo cat, with more white streaks that enhanced his tuxedoness. I think I told you before that he was also polydactyl on all four feet with toes that splayed out like a fan rather than the usual thumbs look. (The feet really only had six toes, not the eight that his name implies. But I kept the names that his previous owner had given him and Typo, and how could you really name a cat Hexagon?)
I fell in love with him at first glance despite my initial reluctance to adopt a thirteen year old cat when I had just lost my Australian Sheperd, Chow. I was afraid of the heartbreak of losing him soon. Luckily, he lived another eight years.
He was sweet and loving and established quite a presence in a household of four cats. He wasn’t usually a lap cat, but showed affection in other ways, rubbing or getting close to you.
He was very protective of Typo and would jump in between her and Boodles, our grey Persian who sometimes would jump her. I think I told you he became known as the Noble Oc.
One of the scariest moments with him was one Friday evening when he had hopped on my dining table with the Sabbath candles burning. The tip of his long swishing tail caught on fire.
Horrible images flashed through my mind as I jumped up to catch him and put out the fire before he felt it and dashed under furniture igniting the whole condo. Fortunately, I got to him in time, and he never even realized his tail was on fire. After that, I would move the Sabbath candles to the kitchen after dinner, so this could never happen again.
I had him through three homes and two moves, including the long drive from Los Angeles to Washington. My cats got to ride in the back and lounged on top of all my stuff. Litter was on the floor in front and food was in one of the carriers. The trip took three days. I got to stay with my brother the first night, but the second night was near Mt. Shasta, where I was grateful I was able to bring them into the hotel. It was February and too cold to leave them in the car, but I didn’t want to have to sneak them in.
In Washington, both he and Typo settled in and adjusted to the two other kitties in the household. That mostly went well, as they made themselves at home, first in the apartment and then the condo.
I had Octagon until he was twenty one – a good long time. He had developed diabetes and ultimately succumbed to organ failures. It was very sad when I had had to let him go to seek catnip in the Catnip Fields in the Sky. His longevity was only exceeded by that of my sister’s cat. I will always remember and love you, my Noble Oc!