On May 5, 1994, I held the tired and weary body of my
nearly 19 year old cat. My Jose. My little man. My child.....in every sense
of the word. This little long haired domestic, black and white "Tuxedo"
cat, with a half of a mustache below his nose, was about to take that journey
to Rainbow Bridge.
I had a friend who was a vet, and........ God bless her.......she was happy
to come to my home and assist my oldest and dearest friend to the next
plateau.
Jose was the product of a stray long haired, calico female. The moment
she went into labor, she appeared at my door and was very insistent on
staying......in my lap if possible. So, naturally I set her up with a nice
comfy and warm bed.......out of the way of traffic, and sat with her will
she gave birth for the first time in her young life. I suppose because
of her young age, her instincts were not what they should have been, so
I assisted her with the sacks (just to get her started, mind you). After
3 babies, she got the idea, unfortunately, there was only one more.
During the night it was obvious that there was something wrong with her,
because she was not letting her children nurse. The next day (a Sunday,
of course) I took her to the vet and he discovered a serious uterine infection
that required surgery, which naturally, severed all of her mammary glands.
So, at not even a day old, those little bundles of joy got a new mom, at
least in the food department. I bottle fed all four of them at least six
times a day for 6 weeks. Thank goodness I was a quick study. I figured
out the EXACT way they wanted it done, and I was relentless. I'd shove
my pinkie finger in those adorable little mouths and slip a doll's bottle
in right behind it and squirt! Food everywhere! Up to their ears! For the
following 10 minutes or so, they (and their tongues) were quite busy. They
came through with flying colors! Healthy and alert. Adding them to the
other adult cats I had, my cat count totaled out at 7.
I managed to find good homes for 3 of them with friends. Of course, I had
already made my choice long before the siblings left.
Jose was with me, all the time, constantly, for almost 19 years. He slept
in motels with me......in car's with me......outside on the ground with
me. When I would go to visit friends, Jose would go outside, explore, and
check back every 10-15 minutes to be sure I was still there. He slept under
the blankets with his arm stretched across my chest and his head either
on my pillow or tucked in under my underarm. In his last few months, he
would glue his body to mine, full length, under the blanket, for warmth
I think.
He didn't die from anything in particular......just old age. In the last
months, his weight dropped dramatically. I was hydrating him twice daily
during the past few weeks. Finally, I had to make that devastatingly painful
decision to put an end to his life, no matter how selfish I wanted to be.
I held his head in my hand as we laid on the comforter that was always
on my bed. I was insistent that this be a familiar and safe environment
for my son. There was no struggle from Jose. He laid down easily and seemed
to know that my out-stretched hand was for his final resting pillow. I
leaned in towards him and whispered "Goodbye my little man....I'll
see you soon....I love you, Jose" and at that moment, my friend the
vet, ended his pain. I felt the little bit of life that he had left leave
his thin, aged body.
My friend could see my deep and seemingly un-ending pain and left immediately
so as to give me the privacy I needed. I picked Jose up off the floor and
clutched him to my breast......holding on so tight.....wishing with every
ounce that he would come back to me. Several hours later, I finally put
Jose down. I had made a burial box for him. I painted it in colorful flowers
and happy faces. His name painted on top, with the dates he lived. I wrapped
his body in a pair of my pajamas (ones that I had worn the last night we
were together) and laid Jose in the box. I then place a picture of him
and I on top of his shrouded body and placed the top on it.
The next morning I had him taken away and cremated. The next day he was
returned to me in a nice sealed wooden box. Jose has a place in my life
forever, until we meet again.
Remember......NOT GONE....JUST GONE ON AHEAD.
It was a very difficult time for me. My father was dying at the same time
and I had just lost my 16 year old cat only 6 weeks before. However, Jose
was ever present in my home. I would feel him walk across the waterbed....my
pillow. Catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, or even hear
him meow from time to time.
Then, exactly 2 weeks to the day, I had an extraordinarily vivid dream
about Jose. I found myself walking into a room......all white.......very,
very bright. There was no furniture, no pictures, no carpet......only large
picture window with a door in it. The door was slightly ajar and there
were large white clouds rolling by outside of the room. I saw Jose, looking
so healthy and happy. Like he did 11 or 12 years ago.....and he was walking
towards the door. I spoke his name, "Jose". He turned and came
to me, all the time looking me directly in the eyes. I picked him up and
held him close. He was so warm, so soft, so alive. As I squeezed him tight,
he vanished. Suddenly, I found myself entering another room, identical
to the first one. The same events happened. This repeated one time after
this.....only this time, as I held on to my desperately missed child, I
told him "I love him you, I miss you terribly, can you please come
back with me?" He gazed into my teary eyes and shook his head "no".....then
he was gone.
To this day, I can not tell this story without crying throughout the entire
tale. I miss that boy. I will see him again.
Jan Louise Condran
