hey Jude
My kitten Julian died on Friday in Australia. I only found out about it on Saturday, when I finally managed to get in contact with Mum via Skype after a couple of weeks' worth of missed connections.
My little man was just over a year old when he died. He was far, far too young to go, but what life he had was a good one, I think. I don't know what happened. Mum said she found him curled up in the front yard like he was sleeping, so I'm assuming something happened that just made him fall sleep and drift off.* When Mitzie got hit by a car she came home for help, so I'm choosing to believe that if he'd been in pain he would have come in. He never liked to be cooped up, so I hope he preferred the life we gave him when he was free to roam, despite the attendant risks, to a life lived looking out the window.
I've been looking through my photos, and I don't have nearly enough of this kitten who's made such a huge impact on my life. But here are the best ones.
this was just after Jude (then called Ace; he's the one that's just a head, right in the thick of things) and April (on the right) first came to stay...I picked up Max and Felix (bottom left and top left) first because we wanted to ease Mitzie and KM (who was still alive at that point) into having kittens around again, but Jude and April followed soon after.
when we first got these guys, they were inseparable. they'd do everything together: stalk magpie larks, play with string, doze in the sun...or sit on the window sill.
I think he was about sixteen weeks old at this point, and already such a lovely boy. he was the first to calm down and accept that Mum and I weren't big scary ogres, and that we were actually pretty cool to cuddle with!
he was always very interested in whatever I was doing; whether I was studying or playing on the Wii or using the iPad or taking pictures, he wanted to be right there.
He loved belly rubs. loved them. He'd hold onto my hand to keep it there...and then chew on it, because why not?
He was forever trying to get out. He knew there was something out there, and he was determined to see what it was.
looking for another belly rub...
one of the first candids Mum sent me after I adopted him from Paris.
I've posted this picture before and couldn't resist posting it again. it makes me smile, because no, he didn't actually drink the bottle of Jager, but it sure looks like he did. a kitten after my own heart.
Jude spent a lot of time hanging out with Mum and Mitzie on their weekend lie-ins.
I've posted this picture before, too...
...but this is a new one. one second, cute as a button; next second, vampire fangs.
Jude loved (to scratch up) our (only recently re-upholstered) sofa. He'd pull the covers off so he could lie directly on it.
the reason we changed his name from Ace to Julian was because of his ragdoll-esque manner: whilst watching the scene in Madagascar where King Julian uses the skeleton arm to accentuate his speech, Jude was lying in my lap and he happily let me move his arms to match King Julian's movements. He was a domestic shorthair, but I swear there was some ragdoll in his lineage somewhere...he was the most laidback kitten, and you could do anything with him; it was like he didn't have bones.
one of my favourite pictures of him, because in it he reminds me of Toothless the dragon.
this was my first night back in Australia, and the first time I'd seen him in seven months. it took only about an hour before he was as comfortable with me as he was with Mum...
...a bond rekindled, of course, with more belly rubs.
a shot of him snoozing and wearing his collar. I'd just got it for him, because I'd just started letting him go out for wanders in the garden. the collar was new in that shot, but within...ooh, fifteen minutes of it being put on him, he'd scratched it on the ground outside so much it looked like he'd been wearing it for years.
quite possibly my favourite picture of him, at least for the moment. While I've fostered affectionate kittens, Jude was MY affectionate kitten, and I always knew he'd be up for a snuggle if I was having a bad day.
Jude would always end up sitting like this at least once during the day...I've got quite a few pictures of him just sitting upright like a person, looking at me like "...what? I'm people too!"
this was taken the week before I left for the US...I'd just bought my new suitcase, and was starting to pack. Jude jumped into it pretty much straight away. I actually zipped him up in it and took him for a spin around the living room, which he wasn't a fan of, but then he jumped right back in once I'd opened it up again.
I posted this the other day...it's one of the last pictures I have with him, taken the night before I left for the States. I didn't actually get to hug him the day I left...I went over, but he ran away, I think because he thought I'd put him back in the house (we'd only just started letting him stay out when we weren't home since he could use the cat-flap, and he was probably wary of having the privilege taken away). I wish I'd taken five fucking minutes to call him over and give him one last hug, but we had to get to the airport and I thought I'd see him again in just a few months.
this is one of the last pictures I have of him. Mum sent it to me with the caption "I has weeds seeds in my mouf". apparently he came in covered in grass/weeds seeds and spent about an hour pulling them all out...and then turned around and went straight back out again to explore some more.
such a snuggly bubby.
OK. I think...I was going to say "I think I can stop feeling so sad" but nope, not happening any time soon. I've been crying on and off for the past three days. I just about lost my mind when Mum first told me...couldn't stop crying, it felt like my chest was cracking open. Saturday evening was spent crying every fifteen minutes or so; Sunday, every thirty minutes to an hour; today, every couple of hours, or continuously if I did something like compile a picspam of his greatest hits.
I feel faintly ridiculous because I grieve for the animals in my family as much as - if not more than - I do for the people. But my animals have been my friends, my siblings, my children, and I love them as dearly as any human. My baby boy is dead and I wasn't there for him...I might not have been able to do anything to save him, but I'll never know, and I never got the chance to see him again properly. I had such plans for us...we were going to move to London when I finished my degree, and he was going to have a whale of a time chasing squirrels and British magpies and just generally having a lark. But now he's running around with KM and Jessie and Comet and Wanda and Lulu and Carrie and Ned and Tash and Bobo and all the other pets my family has loved and lost over the years, and he doesn't need to worry about being cooped up ever again, and I'll see him eventually and be able to give him ALL the belly rubs ever.
I'm getting a tattoo to remember him by. I'm not sure when I'll get it done...if I'll get it now, or if I'll wait until I'm back in Australia, where he was born and raised and died. It's a pretty simple tattoo: just the words hey Jude and the first two notes (a C-above-middle-C (C5?) crotchet and an A-above-middle-C (A4?) minim) of the melody line of Hey Jude by The Beatles. I got heavily into The Beatles around the time I started fostering Jude and his siblings, and he very graciously put up with many renditions of their songs being crooned in his ear, especially Hey Jude. I used to sing it out the door when I wanted him to come in the house, and more often than not he'd come in...I think he knew it was his song. The tattoo is going to look something like this:
No stave, no treble clef or bar line...I think it'd be distracting. I like the font, but not sure if it'd be OK for a tattoo; I'm getting my backpiece added to while I'm here, so I'll take the design with me when that happens and get the artist's opinion. It'd go on my left wrist, opposite the bass clef on my right.
Anyway. Love to everyone, and love to your pets. Have a good evening.
C xoxo
My little man was just over a year old when he died. He was far, far too young to go, but what life he had was a good one, I think. I don't know what happened. Mum said she found him curled up in the front yard like he was sleeping, so I'm assuming something happened that just made him fall sleep and drift off.* When Mitzie got hit by a car she came home for help, so I'm choosing to believe that if he'd been in pain he would have come in. He never liked to be cooped up, so I hope he preferred the life we gave him when he was free to roam, despite the attendant risks, to a life lived looking out the window.
I've been looking through my photos, and I don't have nearly enough of this kitten who's made such a huge impact on my life. But here are the best ones.
this was just after Jude (then called Ace; he's the one that's just a head, right in the thick of things) and April (on the right) first came to stay...I picked up Max and Felix (bottom left and top left) first because we wanted to ease Mitzie and KM (who was still alive at that point) into having kittens around again, but Jude and April followed soon after.
when we first got these guys, they were inseparable. they'd do everything together: stalk magpie larks, play with string, doze in the sun...or sit on the window sill.
I think he was about sixteen weeks old at this point, and already such a lovely boy. he was the first to calm down and accept that Mum and I weren't big scary ogres, and that we were actually pretty cool to cuddle with!
he was always very interested in whatever I was doing; whether I was studying or playing on the Wii or using the iPad or taking pictures, he wanted to be right there.
He loved belly rubs. loved them. He'd hold onto my hand to keep it there...and then chew on it, because why not?
He was forever trying to get out. He knew there was something out there, and he was determined to see what it was.
looking for another belly rub...
one of the first candids Mum sent me after I adopted him from Paris.
I've posted this picture before and couldn't resist posting it again. it makes me smile, because no, he didn't actually drink the bottle of Jager, but it sure looks like he did. a kitten after my own heart.
Jude spent a lot of time hanging out with Mum and Mitzie on their weekend lie-ins.
I've posted this picture before, too...
...but this is a new one. one second, cute as a button; next second, vampire fangs.
Jude loved (to scratch up) our (only recently re-upholstered) sofa. He'd pull the covers off so he could lie directly on it.
the reason we changed his name from Ace to Julian was because of his ragdoll-esque manner: whilst watching the scene in Madagascar where King Julian uses the skeleton arm to accentuate his speech, Jude was lying in my lap and he happily let me move his arms to match King Julian's movements. He was a domestic shorthair, but I swear there was some ragdoll in his lineage somewhere...he was the most laidback kitten, and you could do anything with him; it was like he didn't have bones.
one of my favourite pictures of him, because in it he reminds me of Toothless the dragon.
this was my first night back in Australia, and the first time I'd seen him in seven months. it took only about an hour before he was as comfortable with me as he was with Mum...
...a bond rekindled, of course, with more belly rubs.
a shot of him snoozing and wearing his collar. I'd just got it for him, because I'd just started letting him go out for wanders in the garden. the collar was new in that shot, but within...ooh, fifteen minutes of it being put on him, he'd scratched it on the ground outside so much it looked like he'd been wearing it for years.
quite possibly my favourite picture of him, at least for the moment. While I've fostered affectionate kittens, Jude was MY affectionate kitten, and I always knew he'd be up for a snuggle if I was having a bad day.
Jude would always end up sitting like this at least once during the day...I've got quite a few pictures of him just sitting upright like a person, looking at me like "...what? I'm people too!"
this was taken the week before I left for the US...I'd just bought my new suitcase, and was starting to pack. Jude jumped into it pretty much straight away. I actually zipped him up in it and took him for a spin around the living room, which he wasn't a fan of, but then he jumped right back in once I'd opened it up again.
I posted this the other day...it's one of the last pictures I have with him, taken the night before I left for the States. I didn't actually get to hug him the day I left...I went over, but he ran away, I think because he thought I'd put him back in the house (we'd only just started letting him stay out when we weren't home since he could use the cat-flap, and he was probably wary of having the privilege taken away). I wish I'd taken five fucking minutes to call him over and give him one last hug, but we had to get to the airport and I thought I'd see him again in just a few months.
this is one of the last pictures I have of him. Mum sent it to me with the caption "I has weeds seeds in my mouf". apparently he came in covered in grass/weeds seeds and spent about an hour pulling them all out...and then turned around and went straight back out again to explore some more.
such a snuggly bubby.
OK. I think...I was going to say "I think I can stop feeling so sad" but nope, not happening any time soon. I've been crying on and off for the past three days. I just about lost my mind when Mum first told me...couldn't stop crying, it felt like my chest was cracking open. Saturday evening was spent crying every fifteen minutes or so; Sunday, every thirty minutes to an hour; today, every couple of hours, or continuously if I did something like compile a picspam of his greatest hits.
I feel faintly ridiculous because I grieve for the animals in my family as much as - if not more than - I do for the people. But my animals have been my friends, my siblings, my children, and I love them as dearly as any human. My baby boy is dead and I wasn't there for him...I might not have been able to do anything to save him, but I'll never know, and I never got the chance to see him again properly. I had such plans for us...we were going to move to London when I finished my degree, and he was going to have a whale of a time chasing squirrels and British magpies and just generally having a lark. But now he's running around with KM and Jessie and Comet and Wanda and Lulu and Carrie and Ned and Tash and Bobo and all the other pets my family has loved and lost over the years, and he doesn't need to worry about being cooped up ever again, and I'll see him eventually and be able to give him ALL the belly rubs ever.
I'm getting a tattoo to remember him by. I'm not sure when I'll get it done...if I'll get it now, or if I'll wait until I'm back in Australia, where he was born and raised and died. It's a pretty simple tattoo: just the words hey Jude and the first two notes (a C-above-middle-C (C5?) crotchet and an A-above-middle-C (A4?) minim) of the melody line of Hey Jude by The Beatles. I got heavily into The Beatles around the time I started fostering Jude and his siblings, and he very graciously put up with many renditions of their songs being crooned in his ear, especially Hey Jude. I used to sing it out the door when I wanted him to come in the house, and more often than not he'd come in...I think he knew it was his song. The tattoo is going to look something like this:
No stave, no treble clef or bar line...I think it'd be distracting. I like the font, but not sure if it'd be OK for a tattoo; I'm getting my backpiece added to while I'm here, so I'll take the design with me when that happens and get the artist's opinion. It'd go on my left wrist, opposite the bass clef on my right.
Anyway. Love to everyone, and love to your pets. Have a good evening.
C xoxo