Poor Oasis, you've yet to live before you die.
This cat all acts like it doesn't have only 9 days left to live. Oasis just keeps loafing around totally not fulfilling his dreams.
If I were him I would be out having raw, passionate, uninhibited catsex with Tabbys, half breeds, perhaps even bag a sultry Siamese.
I would live off the land, hunting increasingly larger animals in Prospect Park for food and sport--chipmunks, pigeons, small children. My feral insticts would consume me.
My claws would come out and I'd go, "SNIKT!" Then I'd retract them.
I would go down to the nearby alley and argue the existence of God with the local tomcats. Maybe discuss Boethius or the films of Darryl Hannah.
I would piss on the food my master gives me and meow until he creates the right combination of Tequila Lime Chicken 9 Lives, BBQ Tender Vittles, and a quarter cup 1% milk, slightly heated.
Unfortunately for Oasis, he probably doesn't know about this countdown to euthanasia. I told him, but he just doesn't listen. I don't want to take care of him anymore. He's not even my cat. Won't someone please adopt him?
9 MORE DAYS!