Devistated
JD died. He was my baby. I still remember the day I got him. Samantha, a cat we'd had from before we got the house, had been pregnant but both kittens were deformed. I was only about 12 or 13 and being an only child, the cats and dog (only Cricket 2 at that point) were like my siblings. Mom decided we could go to the SPCA and pick out a kitten since we were already expecting one and it might help Sam over the trauma of losing her babies.
Mom had wanted a black kitten. It even seemed inevitable we'd end up with one seeing as about half the ones there were black. I sat down in the kitten room, my grief temporarily placated as kittens ran all over the room with the boundless energy that only comes from something so tiny and new to the world. I kept picking up black ones, trying to see which one we should take home. Seeing as they all kind of looked alike, this wasn't an easy task. Besides, why rush the joy of sitting in a room with like 40 some odd kittens?
A tiny orange and white kitten came to sit on my knee. His collar said he was a boy and born sometime in June. I still remember the white plastic collar and the blue ink scrawled on it as clear as if it had been yesterday. Other kittens came over or ran by, but he just sat there and looked at me with these two tiny blue eyes, perfectly content to be with me and ignore everyone else in the room.
But mom wanted a black one. I regretfully set him down and exited the room to go to the outdoor room. The kittens could go through the wall to the outside area, but people had to go around. Just as I bent to examine another black kitten, a small orange and white streak came up and sat down by my foot, blue eyes looking up at me once again. Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, I checked his collar. Same collar. Now I've had cats for years so I knew it was a bit odd to have one follow you, especially if it didn't know you. Mom said Cyril used to follow me around when I was a kid like a lab puppy, but by the time I'd been walking on my own, Cyril and I had already been together for years.
Curious, I gave him a pat and went back into the other room, carefully watching the wall as I came in. Sure enough, he came popping through and headed straight for me. So I doubled back into the outdoor area...and once again he followed me, dodging someone attempting to catch him as he scampered by. I don't know if mom was watching at this point, but I thought it was just too odd that this one kitten seemed convinced that attaching himself to my leg was THE thing to do.
Mom was eyeing the black ones, but it was hard to let go of him. It just seemed right. We took him home and made a brief attempt to get Sam to bond to him. Instead, he seemed utterly convinced I was his mother. I named him Jeff Davis due to a love of civil war history and southern pride...despite knowing absolutely nothing about the actual man, and called him JD for short. For the two years before I went off to Chatham Hall, we were virtually inseparable. Dad used to complain that whenever he pet sat for us, JD would always follow him around and meow like he wanted him to get him something, but didn't want to be pet or picked up. When I took him up to New York with me over the summer Tina and Yuko also complained he did the same thing when I wasn't there for him to sleep with me.
There was the time I came back from Chatham Hall for the first time. I'd been away from home for over a month, the most I'd ever been at that time. Mom brought me back for one night just so I could see JD. When I opened the door he took one look at me, blinked and began to purr so loud you could hear him halfway through the house. He didn't stop purring the entire night. Mom said when she came back without me, he had not only stopped purring, but kept looking past her as if waiting to see me there.
JD was always a very finicky cat...much like I was a finicky adolescent. He only tolerated being picked up by me, favored my lap above anyone else's, and would get into moody snits faster than a pregnant woman. He always had constant ear problems and HATED his ears being cleaned, but if anyone except me did it they usually ended up with nasty scratches. He even made one vet assistant have to go and get stitches. Me...well I got scratched once and usually just growled at. He even perfecting growling at me while still purring...one of the strangest noises I've ever heard come out of a cat. Then there were the funny sniffing whuffs of air he'd exhale when disgusted with something. Talk about a cat that was all show and no real fight.
I decided I wasn't going to recontract this year. I've looked into job options, been researching stuff in Virginia, and deciding how to go about moving myself back into the culture I've been absent from for 3 years. Part of this included looking into housing, wondering what's available, what market prices are like (not buying right away, but just checking things for information later). I saw some really great places and would sit back and think, I'd love to live in a place like that. Put a nice chair in such and such room where I can relax, enjoy a good book, and have JD snoozing on my lap like always as Bridgett lays on my feet. To me that was "home" and utter domestic bliss.
Now I feel like I have to redefine happiness as I know it. Time with friends is fun, but feels empty. It's like my best friend has been ripped away from me. And I couldn't even get ashes to keep cause apparently cremating pets just isn't done in our area except as an SPCA service to people who can't bury theirs...and you don't get to keep the ashes. I would have liked to have something to say goodbye to. Now all I have is a picture on my TV...one mom took when he was half asleep so the look is more of a "What the hell are you doing" than the look of adoration I was used to.
So this is my goodbye to my best friend, my baby, and my closest companion for years. I don't know if I will ever want another cat of my own. I rarely thought of the future without thinking of him being there with me, so adjusting to this will take a great deal of time. Thank you to everyone who has been supportive and wonderful. I hope I can smile again soon, but for now I'm just trying to take things one step at a time.
Mom had wanted a black kitten. It even seemed inevitable we'd end up with one seeing as about half the ones there were black. I sat down in the kitten room, my grief temporarily placated as kittens ran all over the room with the boundless energy that only comes from something so tiny and new to the world. I kept picking up black ones, trying to see which one we should take home. Seeing as they all kind of looked alike, this wasn't an easy task. Besides, why rush the joy of sitting in a room with like 40 some odd kittens?
A tiny orange and white kitten came to sit on my knee. His collar said he was a boy and born sometime in June. I still remember the white plastic collar and the blue ink scrawled on it as clear as if it had been yesterday. Other kittens came over or ran by, but he just sat there and looked at me with these two tiny blue eyes, perfectly content to be with me and ignore everyone else in the room.
But mom wanted a black one. I regretfully set him down and exited the room to go to the outdoor room. The kittens could go through the wall to the outside area, but people had to go around. Just as I bent to examine another black kitten, a small orange and white streak came up and sat down by my foot, blue eyes looking up at me once again. Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, I checked his collar. Same collar. Now I've had cats for years so I knew it was a bit odd to have one follow you, especially if it didn't know you. Mom said Cyril used to follow me around when I was a kid like a lab puppy, but by the time I'd been walking on my own, Cyril and I had already been together for years.
Curious, I gave him a pat and went back into the other room, carefully watching the wall as I came in. Sure enough, he came popping through and headed straight for me. So I doubled back into the outdoor area...and once again he followed me, dodging someone attempting to catch him as he scampered by. I don't know if mom was watching at this point, but I thought it was just too odd that this one kitten seemed convinced that attaching himself to my leg was THE thing to do.
Mom was eyeing the black ones, but it was hard to let go of him. It just seemed right. We took him home and made a brief attempt to get Sam to bond to him. Instead, he seemed utterly convinced I was his mother. I named him Jeff Davis due to a love of civil war history and southern pride...despite knowing absolutely nothing about the actual man, and called him JD for short. For the two years before I went off to Chatham Hall, we were virtually inseparable. Dad used to complain that whenever he pet sat for us, JD would always follow him around and meow like he wanted him to get him something, but didn't want to be pet or picked up. When I took him up to New York with me over the summer Tina and Yuko also complained he did the same thing when I wasn't there for him to sleep with me.
There was the time I came back from Chatham Hall for the first time. I'd been away from home for over a month, the most I'd ever been at that time. Mom brought me back for one night just so I could see JD. When I opened the door he took one look at me, blinked and began to purr so loud you could hear him halfway through the house. He didn't stop purring the entire night. Mom said when she came back without me, he had not only stopped purring, but kept looking past her as if waiting to see me there.
JD was always a very finicky cat...much like I was a finicky adolescent. He only tolerated being picked up by me, favored my lap above anyone else's, and would get into moody snits faster than a pregnant woman. He always had constant ear problems and HATED his ears being cleaned, but if anyone except me did it they usually ended up with nasty scratches. He even made one vet assistant have to go and get stitches. Me...well I got scratched once and usually just growled at. He even perfecting growling at me while still purring...one of the strangest noises I've ever heard come out of a cat. Then there were the funny sniffing whuffs of air he'd exhale when disgusted with something. Talk about a cat that was all show and no real fight.
I decided I wasn't going to recontract this year. I've looked into job options, been researching stuff in Virginia, and deciding how to go about moving myself back into the culture I've been absent from for 3 years. Part of this included looking into housing, wondering what's available, what market prices are like (not buying right away, but just checking things for information later). I saw some really great places and would sit back and think, I'd love to live in a place like that. Put a nice chair in such and such room where I can relax, enjoy a good book, and have JD snoozing on my lap like always as Bridgett lays on my feet. To me that was "home" and utter domestic bliss.
Now I feel like I have to redefine happiness as I know it. Time with friends is fun, but feels empty. It's like my best friend has been ripped away from me. And I couldn't even get ashes to keep cause apparently cremating pets just isn't done in our area except as an SPCA service to people who can't bury theirs...and you don't get to keep the ashes. I would have liked to have something to say goodbye to. Now all I have is a picture on my TV...one mom took when he was half asleep so the look is more of a "What the hell are you doing" than the look of adoration I was used to.
So this is my goodbye to my best friend, my baby, and my closest companion for years. I don't know if I will ever want another cat of my own. I rarely thought of the future without thinking of him being there with me, so adjusting to this will take a great deal of time. Thank you to everyone who has been supportive and wonderful. I hope I can smile again soon, but for now I'm just trying to take things one step at a time.