O.J. No, not the infamous killer. I'm talking about my crooked headed cat, Oscar Jr. Known the world over (via the Internet), he's got a flare all his own. Don't get in his way, or he'll scratch the hell out of you. And do not make fun of his crooked head. That'll just make him meow louder. Born in an unknown year, I'm thinking 1989, he was the son of Oscar and Princess and the twin of some cat, whose name I can't remember. Around 1990 he left, then after carousing around in the woods for years, O.J. gradually started to come around the house again in 1995.
We noticed something very strange about him when he came back. He had a crooked head. He wasn�t born with his head that crooked, so we figured he must have gotten into a brawl in the woods somewhere. But it didn�t look like it hurt him. He seemed almost content. So, I gradually warmed up to him and he started to come around me, he even let me pet him a few times.
It wasn�t until a snowstorm in 1996, that I knew he was meant to stay home, for good. He had been caught under the deck from where we had shoveled snow off of the porch. He was meowing fiercely, and I came to his rescue. I have never heard him purr any more loudly than he did after I dried him off and gave him some food and a good scratch on his stomach.
He and I have been inseparable ever since, well, except for now. I�m 6 hours away from him going to school, but I hope to see him real soon. Until then, he�ll just have to find another sucker to scratch his belly.
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