|March 23, 1998 - June 6, 2016|
A little after 3am on Sunday I heard a splat sound from the hallway. I went to go clean what was going to be partially digested kitty food off the floor so our housemate didn't have to deal with it. What I saw was a huge puddle of water blood and a blood clot the size of a small hamster.
Bill and I rushed him to the ER where they did all they could and got him stable. He even got the cube with the heated floor. One blood transfusion fixed the problem for a while, but in about 24 hrs it looked like he would need another. His rapid decline surprised everyone and we all knew his little body was telling us it didn't want to fight any more, no matter that his brain wanted to do.
He was the best kitty there ever was. He loved to come and wake me up in the morning to get some breakfast. If I didn't get up fast enough I would get a lick to the armpit or a cold nose to the eyelid.
He was the only cat I have ever seen who would stiffen his tail and wiggle it back and forth when he got really excited. I've also not seen a cat lick food off of a spoon until I met him. Most cats try and move out of the way when you lean in to give them a kiss, but Mr. Jag would lean into it when I went to kiss his head.
He loved cheese grease, spicy gumbo, lobster, tater tots, frosting, soup, kitty caves, and getting the spot between his shoulder blades scratched. He also loved watching birds go by while laying in bed. Estee by Estee Lauder was his favorite perfume, he even started licking my arm the first time I wore it.
He had a "Labrador tail" and would sometimes knock things into himself with it and get scared by the items. He also loved blankets and anything soft, though he didn't understand the concept of sitting on your lap. Lady Gaga was his jam and he would complain if you tried to sing along. He would also come to the door to greet whoever was there and would welcome them in.
He didn't like cold cuts or when his cat food was too stinky. He used to hate riding in the tiny box in the car, but recently realized that there was a lot of cool stuff outside the windows to watch go by. He also didn't like it when food would get into his water, it was made undrinkable at that point. He loved to crinkle plastic bags, but if you crinkled one around him it was too scary and he would run away. While chicken and turkey were yummy, he was not a fan of duck. He thought people taste was gross, but would still give me licks every once in a while. He liked to give a smell to everything I put on my body or anything I ate.
I have a million stories about times when he didn't make sense, but in the best possible ways. He still loved drinking water out of the bath-tub sink more than his fancy kitty fountain I bought for him.
He was trying his hardest to convince us all that he was feeling great and that he was ready to go home and live his life. We visited with him for almost 2 hrs and you could see him getting more and more wobbley as we were there.
I have his paw prints with me and I'm waiting to hear when I can take the rest of him home with me.
Just remember, hard decisions are hard. I still feel so sad even though everyone around me told me that I made the right decision and did the right thing for him. I've also been told that he knew he was loved and that he lived a good life. I did do my best to spoil him.
I wore the cloths I know he liked (they were the ones where he cuddled my leg and where he half laid in my lap for a few minutes), and I am making his favorite gumbo and tater tots for lunch.