Beloved cat passes on, critters can take a breath

Published June 2, 2011 in the Commercial Appeal

"Where's Olive?" My husband asks me this question at least five times a day. Olive is our cat -- my cat actually. She adopted me in the fall of 1996 after I returned from the Peace Corps. I lived in an old house on Goodbar with a friend, and Olive came with the house. She was originally named Oliver -- after the orphan -- but by springtime she was pregnant, and we realized she needed a new name.

Olive always came and went as she pleased. She knew how to get into the house through the basement and the attic. We often woke up to birds flying through the house -- gifts she'd brought us in the night. And she once famously brought in a beheaded squirrel during the middle of a cocktail party we were hosting.

Olive could take care of herself. However, once Warren and I got married, and we moved to a different house, he felt that it was his duty to keep tabs on her. He outfitted her with a bell to reduce the number of critters she brought home, and he made sure she came inside each night. Despite her wild ways, Olive was a lover, not a fighter -- ask anyone who ever set foot in our house. Olive would make her way into a guest's lap in less than a minute...(Read more).