Oliver Weberg

In Loving Memory of Oliver

2014 – April 10, 2026

Oliver came into my life at a time when I was feeling lonely. A friend asked me to take him in temporarily, but over the next few months, something deeper formed between us. By the time I was asked if I wanted to keep him, the bond was already there. I was grateful and relieved to know he would stay with me. From that moment on, he wasn’t just a pet — he was my son, and I loved him dearly.

Oliver liked to act like a tough guy at times, but beneath that little swagger was a kind and loving heart. He almost always wanted to be with me, no matter what I was doing. His presence was steady and comforting, a quiet reminder that I was never alone.

Every morning, Oliver and I shared a ritual: coffee together. He would sit at my side or partially on my lap, purring with deep contentment while I sipped my cup. Those simple moments made me feel special in a way only he could.

He also loved going for walks around our home. Even though he was on a leash, it always felt like he was the one walking me. In the summer, he would lead me to the patch of catnip behind the house, happily chewing on it as if he’d discovered a treasure. Sometimes he’d spot a squirrel and believe, with absolute confidence, that he could chase it down. I’d stop him, of course, but the thrill he felt just imagining the chase lit him up.

When Oliver first arrived, he brought with him a plush orange fish toy nearly as big as he was. He would carry it proudly in his mouth, marching around and making happy, determined mews muffled by the fabric. He kept that toy his entire life — a small but meaningful symbol of the comfort and joy he found in his home.

Every night when I came home from work, Oliver and his brother Ludo greeted me at the door. Oliver would chirp softly when I said his name and reached down to pet him while taking off my shoes. Those greetings were full of love, and they made coming home feel like returning to family.

Oliver lived 10 beautiful years with me, and throughout that time he collected many nicknames — Oliver Muffin, Oliver Bean, and Oliverzilla — each one reflecting a different part of his personality, from his sweetness to his silliness to his larger‑than‑life presence. They were names spoken with affection, and he wore each of them well.

I am grateful for every moment we shared. Oliver brought warmth, companionship, and joy into my life, and his memory will always be with me.