Jackson Tiger Pepe LePew Drummer Boy: 2007-2017

The worst part about owning a pet?

Saying goodbye.

Death is a part of life, don't they say?  Well, true, but it never comes when you expect it.  You're never fully prepared for the death of a loved one.  As many times as we experience it, we're never truly ready for it.

One more saying that fits.  My favorite, often repeated, lyric from a John Lennon song:

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

Life sure happened yesterday.

My Jackson, my sweetums, crossed the Rainbow Bridge yesterday.  He was less than one month away from his tenth birthday.

To say we weren't prepared was an understatement.  While writing this, twenty-four hours later, I am still numb.  I am still devastated.

Since about the fall I'd noticed that Jackson was gradually losing weight, despite the fact that he seemed himself and was eating, drinking, litter-boxing (I made that a word) normally and doing what he usually likes to do.  The vet and I attributed it at first to the brand of prescription food he was on that might not be agreeing with him.  A switch to the old brand seemed to slow down the weight loss, and again, he seemed fine.  The first sign to always look out for in a pet is a change in their manner and routine.  To that point, nothing had changed.  In fact, he seemed to be a bit more spry and quick with being thinner than he usually was.  He was my usual Jackson, my ultimate lap cat.  In fact, over the past few weeks he seemed to be gaining weight, his once large fluffy belly starting to return.  Ashley even started calling him "chubbs" again.  Since Thanksgiving Jackson became suddenly and instantly obsessed with turkey and chicken.  Out of nowhere, a cat who aways shunned human food would run over every time the fridge opened, demanding, and I mean DEMANDING, chicken.

He would even ask for it by name in his human like meow.

"HELLO?  CHICKEN??!!???" He seemed to ask.  If anyone did anything in the kitchen, he was underfoot, asking over and over for chicken.

All that changed this past Friday.

When I woke up and started to feed Jackson and Sophie, I noticed that Jackson seemed to be limping as he walked to his food dish.  More than limping, he seemed to have trouble with his back legs, especially his right rear leg which he was not putting any weight on  He usual strut was way off, and he seemed slow, disoriented, and in pain.

Immediate concern.

"You OK, sweetums?"  I asked as I picked him up.  No yelps of pain, no anything other than his usual dislike of being held for more than 15 seconds.  This cat never liked being held.

After (gently) putting him down, he staggered over to his bowl and consumed his breakfast.

He's eating, it can't be that serious, right?  Maybe it's age?  Maybe it's arthritis?  Do cats get arthritis?  Apparently, yes, they're as prone to it in old age as humans are.  Fuck you, arthritis.

I went about my day, hoping for the best.

That night, after coming home from work and a bunch of errands, Jackson seemed worse.  Rather than greeting us at the door, Jackson was laying on his side in a kitchen chair.  He seemed even more disoriented than he did in the morning.  His stomach seemed almost bloated to me as well, abnormally large considering his hind area had remained quite thin. He looked up at me, let out a little cry, and managed to get up, walking with what appeared to be even more pain than this morning.  He ate only wet food, and of course, despite pain, scarfed down his usual after dinner treat of boiled chicken.

I went into instant panic mode, re-arranged my Saturday as best as I could (I work weekends) and vowed to call the vet first thing the following morning and make him the first available appointment.

The next morning I awoke early to find my boy again in the kitchen chair.  On his side, in obvious pain.  My concern increased exponentially.

I made sure I had coverage for the day and as soon as the vet opened made the first available late morning appointment.

What the fuck was this?  This literally happened overnight, I saw no evidence of anything.  He was his usual self until just twenty four hours prior.  What can come on so fast and bring my loving cat to a screeching halt?  This can't just be arthritis or a stomach ache.

I feared the worst.  Was I going to have to go through that again??

Putting Jackson into what was once Tyler's carrier for the trip to the vet went far far easier than usual.

Another bad sign.

Forty-five minutes later Jackson's vet walked into the exam room.  Her friendly expression took an instant turn to one of grave concern. 

 I, for one, was glad I left my sunglasses on.

Our worst fears were at hand.  Jackson was not only ill, he was gravely ill.  His temperature was several degrees lower than nortal which was a very bad indication.

"I'm afraid he's in very bad shape," the vet explained.  She was almost certain Jackson had been battling cancer, most likely in his stomach, for some time.  The bloated stomach was almost certainly a tumor, not weight gain.  One of his kidneys also, to her, felt abnormal.

I asked, three times, the same question, fighting back tears.

"Did I miss something?  Did I cause this?"  I am always first to blame myself, and after Tyler and Tiger, that will never change.

"No, of course not.  There was nothing you could have done.  Cats, as you know, are the absolute masters of hiding their illness.  That goes back to their natural instincts in the wild so they wouldn't appear vulnerable to pray.  A cat will always mask their illness until almost literally the last possible second."  These vets always almost over-explain everything. I appreciate that.

There were no options this time.  To hospitalize him and put him through a battery of tests was pointless, as it would most likely confirm what she suspected.

This was a battle Jackson was not going to win.

What caused this?  Bad genetics, according to the vet.  Genetics has never been Jackson's friend.

By the way, FUCK GENETICS.  Leave my Jackson alone you mother fucker.

Jackson was laying on his side on the exam table, growing worse by the second and in obvious pain.  His fight gone, the light in his eyes dimming.

There was no way I was going to let my boy be in pain.

The vet explained the procedure, and I signed some papers and they gave us a great deal of time to say goodbye.  To say they were compassionate was an understatement.  They're really a great team of vets and well worth the trip.   A night and day difference from the horrible vets Tiger had to endure. These vets CARE, those vets did not.  Simple as that.

"Thank you for being so good to Dan.  You're a very good boy. I love you."

He gently purred and did his best to gaze back at her.

I hugged Jackson for the last time.  Taking his front paw in my hand, he curled his toes around my finger as he always did when I pet him.  Gently purring, he looked at me, almost begging me to be set free from his pain.

"I love you, sweetums.  My lap will never be the same without you.  You saved my life.  I wish I had more time, I wish I found you when you were a kitten.  Say hi to Tyler and Tiger for me.  You are such a good boy and I love you. I will see you again."

He purred, his paw gently kneading the palm of my hand.

With his paw in my hand, Jackson crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Forever out of pain.

Empty once again.

Sophie, of course, knew something was up.  Were Jackson and Sophie the best of friends?  Far from.  Yet, recently it seemed she was slowly starting to come around.  Even if they didn't cuddle or play together, it was obvious Sophie had come to respect Jackson and enjoy his company, even from afar.

Sophie looked at the carrier.  She looked at his usual bed and sleeping spots.  Realizing what had happened, she jumped onto her spot at the top of what had once been Jackson's tree, lost in her own thoughts.

Needless to say, my heart is in pieces.  I miss him, I miss having him on my lap, I miss having him curl up in the crook of my legs at night, a warm, needed presence.  As I've said before, he was my zen.  He had few needs: food to eat, a window to look out of, and my lap to pass out on.  Jackson was as close to monogamous as a cat could get.  He was MY cat.  He loved me.  He didn't mind other people, and would even sit on at Ashley's lap from time to time and curl up in between us at night, but he loved me, and I loved him.  We had as strong a bond as any beings could have.  He lived with me for just a little over 4 years, but it seemed like forty.  It was that kind of bond.

So why the fuck did he have to go so soon?

Don't answer that.

What else am I feeling?  ANGER.  I'm more mad than anything about this.  He was still so damn young.  Tyler lived to see 15, and he was most likely older than that. Even Tiger lived to see his 11th birthday.  Jackson wasn't even TEN for fuck sake.  Why him?  Why did he have such bad luck when it came to health?  He fought so long and hard, he overcame major bladder surgery that would have killed a lesser cat, only to be cut down so young by something else.

The dreaded BIG C.

Fuck cancer.

Fuck disease.

Fuck you for taking my beautiful sweet boy away from me FAR TOO SOON.

Don't give me that natural progression of grief crap, or the steps of grief bullshit.  I'm pissed.  Pissed at whatever decided to fuck with my Jackson and take him from me.  Pissed that my prayers to some bullshit god that is obviously false and doesn't exist to just leave my Jackson alone amounted to nothing.  Yes, I've given up on religion, but this is not a blog, or a rant, about god.  This is a blog about Jackson.

I miss him.  I want him back.

I know, I know.  I'll be OK.  Jackson would want that, and I will honor his memory by being OK.

We will also, of course, adopt again.  Jackson would also want that.  We will open our home in the near future to another cat that is out there looking for a forever home.  That cat is out there right now, and what a forever home it will be.  Ashley wants a kitten, and I have never experienced kitten-hood, so perhaps this will be that time?

To my Jackson I say: THANK YOU.

Thank you for coming into my life.

Thank you for saving my life.

Thank you for being the ultimate lap cat.

We will see each other again.