My constant (sometimes annoyingly so) companion since he was about eight years old 'til he reached 19 or so, Ozzy was given to me in 1994 by a friend, Vicki Studt, in Garfield; she'd agreed to help find him a home when her friend, Maria Piard (whom I'd also known briefly in high school), moved and couldn't keep the cat. After a few unsuccessful months, Vicki's parents grew impatient and told her she'd have to find him a place or they would (the family already had several pets, and Ozzy didn't get along especially well with them), so she started pressuring me, and finally I told her to bring 'im over.
Ozzy (who was in fact named after Mr. Osbourne, though not by me) was, at least outwardly, very affectionate to humans and other people, but he did not seem to like other cats at all! I never had the chance to see him interact with other types of animals, but I have a feeling he wouldn't have been very happy around them, either. His seeming joy around people masked his deep-seated desire to take over the world, however, and most were oblivious to the disdain he showed for almost every living creature other than himself. ;) He was somewhat attached to me, though, if only because I was his Provider... Ozzy was put to sleep in October 2003, one of the very hardest things I've ever had to do. He had many good years behind him, but in the end, his kidneys began to fail, and I couldn't let him suffer.
You can read excerpts from Ozzy's journals, but be warned, he was not the "good kitty" you might think he was!
