Yesterday, we laid our sweet old cat, Jack, to rest after over 15 years of friendship and love. We got him shortly ater we got married, like within two months. He was a beautiful, fat little orange and white puff, the last of the litter. “Cute and chunky” was what the ad in the paper said. He hid for two weeks from us in our apartment, scared of everything and everyone. He grew to be a big, healthy, 16 pound cat, not afraid to chase after the mean old geese by the lake (we did save him from doom a few times). It took awhile, but eventually he became a mushy, lap cat, sleeping on my feet every night and wanting nothing more than food and love for the past several years. Once Woob came on the scene, though, he retreated during waking hours, only peeking out to socialize once the little one went to bed. A few weeks ago, Jack had some sort of “episode” for lack of better term, and rapidly began losing weight, not eating or drinking, and eventually just became so, so weak and little. When we took him to the vet yesterday he weighed 5 1/2 pounds. We brought him home to bury in the back yard and P2R and I had a little service for him. Woob blissfully doesn’t even know he’s gone–I’m so glad he never got a chance to bond. We’ll be able to introduce some kittens in a few months that will be al his and they can grow up together.
Amazing all the old grief that gets brought up with the loss of pet, though–geez.
Little Jack, you will be missed, and never forgotten.