Love At First Squawk
There will never be another Jasmine
It’s been a little over a week since my family had to say goodbye to our cat of fifteen years, Jasmine. In that time I’ve been trying to piece together the right words to describe the void she’s left in our home and our lives.
As a matter concerning the heart, the way we feel after suffering any kind of loss can live in a half-formed and misty place in our minds. We may have a feeling, or or some sentiment we want to express, but when we try to put it into words we find that we didn’t know what we wanted to say at all. Or the words we do find feel cheap; the kind of thing you might find on the inside a dollar store greeting card.
I’ll do my best to not make this blog post feel that way.
A Really Bad Week
Sometimes the universe responds when we have the gall to ask how else things could go wrong, and in the first week of February 2025 it decided to kick me squarely in the teeth. After witnessing just how much control a certain Nazi salute throwing billionaire(who is a Nazi) was exercising over the shiny new government he purchased wholesale, I couldn’t help but wonder, “What else could go wrong?”. The universe, cheeky bastard that it is, wasted no time responding.
On the 3rd, I had a massive panic attack that had me thinking I might be having a stroke when I lost control over the left side of my body, and had to make a conscious effort just to stand up straight. Then came the racing thoughts, then the chills, and then I threw up. It turned out the panic attack was working in conjunction with the norovirus which kept me dry heaving for the next twelve hours. I spent the day soaked in sweat, periodically straining my entire body as it tried to expel the nothing that was left inside my stomach, and fading in an out of consciousness until I was finally able to drift off into an uneasy sleep. I didn’t get sick again but I spent the next two days in bed, rehydrating myself and feeling like I’d been run over by a Zamboni.
A few days prior to that nightmare, we’d taken Jasmine to the vet after noticing she’d lost a good amount of weight. They did some bloodwork but found nothing conclusive: she was anemic, and one of her kidneys wasn’t working but it may have been that way for a while. We were told to keep an eye on her, and bring her back a week later for a follow-up visit and more bloodwork.
She didn’t make it a full week because try as we might, we just couldn’t get her to eat. My wife bought a big box of Fancy Feast, a rare treat around these parts, but Jasmine would only lap up the broth. She simply refused to eat anything solid, which only added to our worry. We tried giving her high calorie liquid food made for senior cats who might have sensitive teeth, but she still showed little to no interest. Instead she contented herself to rest in one of the many pet beds that litter our home, only getting up to take the occasional drink of water. After a few days of this we called the vet again, and took her in on Thursday morning. None of us of knowing it would be the last day we’d have with her.
They ran more bloodwork, and used their ultrasound machine to see what, if anything, they could find. They thought she might have cancer, and advised we take her to the emergency vet in the area, who would be able to give us a definitive answer, and that is where we would spend her remaining hours. In the fifteen years we had Jasmine we’d never once had to take her to the vet. We often joked about how she hadn’t seemed to age in all the time we’d had her; A little lie to scare away the understanding that we had cashed in the bulk of the time we would have with her.
Saying Goodbye
We arrived at the emergency vet around 5:30PM with Jasmine, and made it home after midnight without her. She appeared to have internal bleeding in her stomach, and her condition had worsened just in the hours since we’d taken her to our regular vet. After talking at length with the vet about our options we made the painful decision to say goodbye. The staff at the animal hospital were incredibly kind and compassionate, they gave us as much time as my wife and I wanted with her before the vet came in to administer the euthanasia.
Jasmine breathed her last curled up in my wife’s arms, and we cried together in the dimly lit room.
It’s So Quiet Here Without You
Not a day has passed where I haven’t heard a phantom Jasmine “squawk”(our name for her distinct meow), or thought I caught a glimpse of her sitting by the front door out of the corner of my eye, and every time I feel a twinge in my heart from the reminder that she’s gone. The house is quieter, no longer punctuated by those distinct squawks, or the gentle rumble of her purr as she made herself comfortable on your lap. When I would step out of my bedroom most mornings she would be perched on the couch, just to be as close as possible to one of her humans. She never met a stranger, and would come to greet people whenever company would arrive. I’ve never known a cat quite like her, and I suspect I never will again so I will just count myself lucky for the years my family had with her.
She was with us before we were parents, when my wife and I were just two dumb kids in their early 20s struggling to afford the rent each month. She was there as we became somewhat responsible adults with a mortgage and a now middle school aged son. Whatever we were going through for the last fifteen years her calming presence and unconditional love was a constant, and now that she’s gone there is a stillness to our home that has left a permanent mark on all of our hearts.
As I’m writing this final paragraph, a part of me still expects to hear her announce herself as she enters the office, followed by a gentle *tap*tap*tap* on my side before she threads the narrow space between my leg and the armrest of my chair before finally draping herself across my arm.
So sorry to hear about your kitty. She was clearly very special, and lucky to live out her days with people who recognized that. ❤️