After two years in Minneapolis, I got a transfer to Seattle. I told Bozo that we would be moving again and bought a new carrying case for him. Would you believe that on the way to the airport in a taxi, Bozo once again managed to open the zipper!
Panic time! I checked in all of my luggage and managed to keep Bozo in the case. This time I kept Bozo’s carrying case on my lap (except for departure and arrival when I kept my feet on the case under the seat in front of me) and again was lucky to be sitting next to someone who liked cats.
Everyone who saw Bozo thought he was the most beautiful cat, with gleaming blue eyes. Only a few people realized that a little devil lurked behind those sparkling eyes.
Bozo loved our new home in western Washington as there were squirrels and birds to look at and the windows were low to the ground, perfect for “stalking.” Occasionally, a neighborhood cat would wander by and Bozo would make it clear to the cat that this was his territory.
At night, Bozo stood guard by the patio door. I realized that he was looking not only for squirrels, but also for raccoons. After standing guard, Bozo would snuggle next to me. And yes, sometimes he’d wake me wanting to fight.
I was heart-broken when Bozo died suddenly, from a stroke. I consider myself very fortunate that we spent more than 13 years together. I miss him and am very thankful for many fabulous memories.
I still laugh when I recall Bozo opening his carrying case on a plane and looking up at me. He loved jumping on a book case, then meowing, expecting to be taken down from the book case. He became marvelously finicky about his meals (Dannon fat free yogurt was a favorite). When I’d come home from work, I could not go out again for at least a half hour or he would howl, loudly! In the evenings he was on “cat patrol” on the lookout for raccoons, then coming to bed, wanting to cuddle or fight. He was a treasure, unique, definitely a character and the name “Bozo” was perfect for him.