RIP Jazz

To describe 2014 as a bad year would be a gross understatement. About a month ago, my father and I noticed one of our cats was having health problems again. Jazz was afflicted with periodic bouts of upper respiratory infections since his birth and usually managed to shake them off. This time he lost a lot of weight before getting over the bug, but he’d always been a very strong animal.

The weight loss continued in dramatic fashion and we took him to the vet two weeks ago. From the symptoms and sky high calcium in the blood, it was surmised he had a tumor hidden somewhere in his stomach. Such irony, given my father’s lymphoma in the same location.

Refusal to eat followed and he began to decline rapidly. What’s amazing is that he held on to the point of being in absolute misery. With no other choice, I had to put Jazz down today.

Jazz was quite an original. Only in the last few years of his life did he come to like being on a lap, preferring the company of other cats to us humans. All cats have some of the wild still in them, but he was mostly feral spending a great deal of his time outdoors hunting. When he did come in, Jazz would Harpo the female cats, chasing them around to their great ire.

I’ll never forget how he came to live with us. Way back in 2004, I thought I was catching glimpses of a kitten out of the corner of my eye when going outside. Eventually, the Siamese throwback from the local barn cat population was seen in the garage.

Attempts to woo him failed miserably. Cat food, milk, talking to him – all were to no avail. This was the most feral kitten I’d ever encountered.

In the end, it was his upper respiratory problems that caused his capture. Sinusitis grew into eye infections that sealed both eyes shut, so when I startled him outside the garage entry door, Jazz ran straight into the side of the garage at full speed.

That nearly knocked him unconscious allowing me to scoop him up and take him inside. Once alert, he bolted under the furniture and wasn’t seen for three days. It wasn’t until I snuck up on him sleeping on a chair that I was able to pet him in order to start domesticating the wee beastie.

It never completely took. Over the years, he did thousands of dollars of damage to furniture and shoes with his claws. If it weren’t for his disarming directness, he would have been gotten rid of a long time ago. There was something endearing about Jazz, though petting him could be dangerous. The more happy he got, the more violent he became and I’ve got permanent evidence of the power of his jaws on my arm.

There aren’t a lot of pictures of Jazz due to his tendency to run away from cameras being pointed at him. That’s a pity, since he had beautiful light blue eyes and pretty markings.

I’ve buried far too many cats living out here. Jazz will be missed.