And the Oscar goes to...

Meet Oscar.
The first time I laid eyes on Oscar was about a year ago in a local no-kill rescue. His elderly owner had passed away, and he was brought in. I frequent all of the shelters in the city, and when I spotted him I thought he was a real charmer: fur as fluffy and weightless as a cloud, and a beautiful blue color, a charming demeanor, with amber eyes that seduced. We became fast friends, but I did not bring him home. I was looking for a younger cat, one who would liven things up for my two older cats. He was a bit older.
As time wore on, many cats came and went, but no one chose Oscar. He greeted me warmly every time I went to search for a cat, even when he became quite ill in the shelter-he still raised his head to me. Still, I wanted a younger cat.
I had encountered many cats of varying ages and personalities, as you can imagine. None of them seemed quite right for our household though. My search continued.
Two days ago I was back at the shelter: Oscar was still there-sadly approaching his one year anniversary of being there. I took him out and patted him for a bit while I chatted with the adoption councilor. "I really like him" I said yet again, placing him back into his kennel. "But I really wanted a younger cat. Someone who'll be really playful".
Back in his cage now, I turned to leave, but froze in my tracks as he gave a sharp call. Staring at me, he picked up a little pom pom toy and tossed it in the air. Another meow, and he grabbed a different ball and batted it around, then stopped to stare at me.
I looked at the girl, who stood there with her mouth open. "He's never done that! He's not usually that playful!"
Looking into his face right then, I said "I think I'll be back tomorrow".

Tomorrow arrived, and I bustled back to the shelter, my heart doing flip flops because I was finally going to bring Oscar home. But when I bent down to look into his cage, it was empty and cleaned out. Tears welled, but I figured at least he had finally found a home. I straightened up, swiped a hand discreetly across my eyes, and toured the shelter to mask my disappointment. He wasn't anywhere. Turning to leave, a volunteer walked up to me and asked if I needed a hand with anything.
"I guess someone finally adopted Oscar " I said, trying to sound happy.
"What?" she replied. "No. We just cleaned out his cage. He's in the kennel on the floor in the corner!"

Oscar, a beautiful Norwegian Forest cat, has settled in very nicely to his new forever home.