I had to post about this, because it is so cute.
In the photo to the left, you see two of our beloved departed cats, Ozy, the big grey King of Cats, and Tristan, his best friend. They died within months of each other last year, both at ripe old ages.
Kat, even though she was just a tiny girl, remembers them.
I know this, because she has a book about cat breeds that has two photos in it that look just like Ozy and one that looks just like Tristan. When she gets the book out, for months, I would say, “Which kitty is Ozy,” and she would point to those two pictures of Russian Blues who looked just like the old Oz. And if I asked which one looked like Tristan, she’d point to the one Siamese cat in the book who looked like old Sir Triz.
The other night, when we went out so Zak could play open mike night, as we were leaving, she apparently brought the book over to Brittany and opened it to the Ozy picture and said quite clearly, “Ozy.”
And then didn’t say it again for two days.
Then, yesterday, she got it out and looked at the picture again, then ran over and started pulling on my sleeve, saying, over and over, “Ozy, Ozy, Ozy, Ozy.” She did this until I came over to where she had left the book and looked down to see it laying open to the picture of our old, departed, beloved King of Cats.
It almost made me cry to know that our little baby, even though she was so small, remembers Ozy.
I think that the King would be pleased.
Now, she just needs to learn to say “Tristan.”
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