Fozzy Bear


Our little Foz man.

Such a little life bringer, endearing in spirit and stranger to none.

In true Fozzy fashion, he left us on a great adventure. He is no longer here with us and how strongly this heart feels his absence. Rather than tell you about his death, I just wanted to share a little about his little kitty life. How he was loved, cherished, and will be remembered.

He started out as a fluff ball. One round-faced puff of dark fur, highlighted by blue-rimmed green eyes, white dipped paws, and whiskers that stretched far beyond his small frame.

“He looks like a little bear” was all it took to push us towards his fated name. Fozzy “Bear” it was.

We had prayed for a friendly cat; one that would play with our fatty lion, fearlessly brave my husband’s roughhousing, and overall be just slightly more lively than Pip. 

Fozzy entered our home as a furball answer.

From the beginning, his fearless demeanor was on display. Shamelessly cuddling with our Great Dane, Cali, with no notice of the size discrepancy. Completely at ease between her paws and constantly eager to touch noses in adorable displays of sibling affection.

We deemed them David and Goliath, but we’re pretty sure Foz just assumed Cali was his blood relative. 

With his long body and stubby legs, Fozzy quickly filled our house louder than life. Daily tackling our Lion-boy Pip and enticing him to play with playful “BOPS” on the head and sneak attacks. Again, completely bold and unaware that his brother’s extra 20lbs could easily crush him.

Fozzy was aggressive in his play and equally in his affections; the first to antagonize his brother and the first to comfort with bath time and nap cuddles.

He wasn’t a cuddle bug like his brother, but instead just wanted to perch behind whoever was sitting on the couch, or beside whoever was working in the office. Content to be a present companion to any and all in the house.

My husband was clearly his favorite. An observation easily confirmed every time he walked in the door. Fozzy would meow and trot to the door. His little white paws scraping the glass in eager anticipation of “Dad” being home and not opening the door fast enough.

 Dane would step inside and be greeted with a forceful kitty rub. Fozzy would arch, front paws leaving the ground, and press his fluff into his legs. Meowing his delight with his oh-so-high squeaky voice and announcing his excitement. This was always followed by a lift to “Dad’s” shoulders and a trot around the house. Perched in contentment on the broad back of his “favorite.”

See, Dad was the only one in the house who played rough enough for the Foz man. Making the bed always turned into “bury Fozzy in the sheets” or “stuff Fozzy in a pillowcase and carry him around the house”. A walk down the hall turned into a “surprise attack” and an ensuing game of “tag”. A ladder out to change a light bulb, transformed into a “mobile cat tree” that would be carried around by Dad until its inevitable access to “forbidden” places. Fozzy lived to play and Dad was the one who understood best.

Dad got the playful side but his best snuggles were reserved for me. My morning prayer was always known as “cuddle time” with Fozzy Bear. Like clockwork, Fozzy would wiggle his way into my arms and only settle when he was completely covered. Under the chin scratched and a full hand over his face was the only way he liked to be pet. Loud purrs and half-closed eyes in complete contentment are how I will best remember the little furball.

He was a wild heart, our Fozzy boy. Longing to run free and regularly figuring out ways to escape the confines of our back yard. Adventure beckoned his little rebel self and we regularly joked he was our resident “hood rat”. A “hood rat” that could easily survive the wild, a point solidified again and again when we found him “playing” with snakes in the yard and hunting moths/birds/any bug, and then eating whatever he caught (including the snake).

Yes, he is “just” a cat, but he was also a member of Clan Coppini.

He was loved, lived wild, and now is forever free.

We love you, sweet Fozzy Bear.

I echo the words of Chris Stapleton and wish you nothing but everlasting adventure.

“Run ‘Fozzy’ run.

With the heart of a rebel child.

Run, ‘Fozzy’ run.

Be just as free as you are wild.”

– Maggie’s song (Chris Stapleton)

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Virginia based, free spirited Boudoir
and Couples photographer, specializing in intimate and adventurous imagery that empowers women and re-ignites connection.

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