Virtute.org

We know when we get a kitten that they don’t live very long.  I’ve always told myself that they’ve come here to Earth, and we get a chance to give them lives of comfort, safety and love. 

Little Jack was a “free kittens” ad in the newspaper.  I went to see the kittens, and they had two; one black, and one calico.  I couldn’t decide, so I took them both.  The black male I named Cracker Jack (usually just Jack) and the calico female I named Sweet Anne-Marie (usually just Marie).  The little chickens spent their whole first day hiding in the closet. 

When Marie was killed by a car, Jack was my little furry comforter. 

Jack was definitely my cat; he’d sleep with me in the bed.  He would always come when I called.  He was the strangest little animal; he loved to play with pants you’d leave on the floor, shooting through the pant legs.  He’d always get into boxes of packing peanuts and make a huge mess.  He would perch in high places and swat at your head. 

Jack had an easy purr; he’d always be glad for me to scratch his ears.  He’d let me play rough with him, rolling him around and tickling his belly.

Tonight after work Jack was just lying on the floor in the sun room.  He’d been losing weight, but today he felt like just skin and bones.  I got out some of his favorite wet cat food, but he wouldn’t take any.

I had to take him to a vet in Sevierville because there were none open closer.  After ruling out FIV, the vet did X-rays and blood work.  The X-ray showed so much fluid in his lungs that it was a wonder he was still breathing.  When the blood work came back, it showed his liver had failed as well.  The only real choice was to let him go.

While we were waiting, I held him and petted him.  He showed no anxiety and just seemed content to be with me.  He purred, in spite of the condition of his lungs.  He purred right up to the end.

We have a short time with our little friends.  I wouldn’t trade any of the sorrow and hurt I feel right now for the great friendship I had with my little furry buddy.  Between the sorrow and the loss I feel gratitude for such a good cat.  I’ll miss him terribly for a while, but I have it on good authority that the Grace of our Savior heals even these hurts.  After the sorrow of this life, even in the middle of it, there is hope “smiling brightly before us”. 

So long, Jack.  You were the best cat a man could have.