Jack

Good old Jack.

The best cat on the planet.  I had him and Alley for about 18 years, until we lost Alley last year.

I don't like cats and never have.  But I got these two, made the best of it, and ended up feeling about them like most people feel about their pets--a bit irrational, a bit silly, but oh well.  I even found myself doing something I swore I'd never do--telling cute cat stories. 

Jack is powerful and tough.  He is fearless--I have seen him attack huge dogs that entered the house.  Protecting us?  Fear?  But he didn't just arch his back and hiss--he attacked.  A Rottweiler and a German Shepard.  Made both of them retreat.  They don't make signs saying "This house protected by a 9 pound, old, cat." 

And he's the best lap cat I've ever experienced.  He loves sitting on your lap, and does it all of the time.  Curls up and purrs and goes to sleep. 

He's also a pain in the neck at times--gets on counters, can be under foot, won't stop scratching the door at night, sleeps on your head when you let him into the bedroom.

He's a presence.  It's like really "there" in some big way, unlike many cats that by their natures are often hidden from sight.  Jack never is.

He loves coming into the bathroom when we are taking showers, just lying on the bath mat.  See, I told you I now tell cute cat stories.  

We lost our cat sitter this year, moving away.  Neighbors we will miss.  It's for the best for Jack, though, because now we are more motivated to find a home for him while we are away where he can be around people, and that's what he needs. 

Our Seattle family is taking him--Jules, Jessica, Ian and Adam.  They volunteered, said they really wanted him, and I'm sure part of it was to help us out.  I wouldn't feel right about it with a lot of pets, but with Jack I know how much positive energy he adds to a household.  Like I said--he's "there."

Last year we took him to the Vet, who couldn't believe his age.  He said he thought he was 10 years younger.

A few days ago I noticed a lump underneath him, so we took him back.  Saw a different Vet who said the same thing:  "Really?  19 years old?  He's in great shape."  (actually he could be older--I got him full grown in 1995).  The lump was thankfully benign, but that night Jack tore out one of his stitches from licking it.  The Vet said the only way he could tell his age was that his skin was thin like that of older people.  So he got a staple and a collar.

Our poor little guy.  He hates it, like all animals hate the collar.  But he's tolerating it, and he should heal up just fine.

We have time to say our good byes to him.  I will miss his meowing when we get home--he's so much more like a dog in terms of his personality than he is a cat.  Yet, I am so happy for him--he deserves to be around people because he gives so much to them, and I'll know he's taken care of.  Anything can happen, but anything can happen anywhere and at any time.

He and I have been through so much together--good times, bad times, the move to Whidbey Island.  These last two years have been my best times since he's been alive, and I'm glad he got to experience those with me.  

Now he will always have a lap to sit on, for as long as he has left, that's about the best any of us can hope for, isn't it?

Good old Jack.