“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” - Vicki Harrison

October 7, 2010:  It doesn’t seem like it’s been four years since I lost Taz to Lymphoma.  I think of him everyday.  I still miss him as much as ever.  I’m so happy to have had him for the entire 11, almost 12 years of his life.  If he hadn’t gotten cancer, he might still be with me today, a sassy, 16 year old.  He was the last of our original three cats.

Jezibel is still with us.  She is now 15 and in relatively good health.  We are concerned about her though.  She has had an asthmatic type condition for several years.  It seems to be worse now.  She has days when she won’t eat because she can’t smell her food.  When she is like that, we give her Terbutaline.  It opens up the air passages and usually works in half an hour or so. 

Ellie

Jezibel’s daughter, Ellie, who passed away in August last year, at 13, also had asthma.  She was worse than Jezibel, and she was on Terbutaline.  To complicate matters more, In the last couple of months of her life, she was diagnosed with diabetes. 

In Jezibel’s case, if the Terbutaline doesn’t completely work, we next use Little Noses child’s saline nose drops and Vick’s nasal inhaler.  When she can smell again, she usually starts eating.

Jezibel has changed her personality too.  She would never sleep with us before and now she sleeps with us every night.  Right between our pillows.  I wake up and there she is, stretched out, sound asleep.  It’s nice, I don’t mind, but I sometimes wonder why, all of a sudden, she wants to be with us.  It never was a priority before.  She was always a loner, never wanting anything to do with the other cats or the dog.  She always enjoyed attention, but seemed to be able to take it or leave it.  When I would try to pet her or pick her up, she would just stomp off like “leave me alone!” or she would hiss and growl. 

Jezibel with Taz

Jezibel and Taz never really liked each other.  They were both dominant cats.  We had the Alphas,  male and female.  Neither would give in to the other.  They learned to rule together.  But, every once in awhile they would get into an argument and it would become a real fight that we had to break up. 

Taz would sometimes back down and if Jezibel sensed it, she would back him into a corner and we always said she “stood him up in the corner”.  Of course, his side of the story was, “I stood Jezibel up in the corner!”  We laughed, but we knew the truth.  They were both so insecure that they had to fake being tough.  Jezibel had her weak moments too and Taz never failed to take advantage.

Taz was about nine months older than Jezibel.  When she came to us in February 2000, she was pregnant.  Because she is a calico with an attitude, her arrival and subsequent litter of kittens, really disrupted our once peaceful household of three sweet, boy cats, Rowdy, Calvin and Taz, and dog, Chelsi.  It was a peace that would be forever gone.

I like the fact that being older has mellowed Jezibel.  She no longer growls or hisses at the other cats when they pass each other in the house.  That doesn’t mean that she has lost her spunk.  The younger Jezibel, who used to stand Taz up in the corner, comes out sometimes long enough to remind us that she still has attitude.  There are times though, that she seems to be forgetful.  She will just sit and stare, as if she had gone into a room and forgot why she was there.  We all do that, so maybe it’s not anything to worry about. 

Jezibel and Taz were sparring partners for over ten years, so I know she must have missed him when he died.  When he got sick, she seemed to know that she couldn’t pick fights with him anymore.  I don’t remember them ever getting into it then.  Of course, that time was so upsetting for us that nothing was more important than trying to save Taz.  For those three months, life changed for all of us.  The other cats and dog did their own thing while Charlie and I did what we could for Taz. Thank goodness no one else got sick during that time.  One crisis at a time, please.

Lexi

Jezibel’s other daughter, Lexi, 14, has several medical problems.  She has hyperthyroidism and high blood pressure.  She also has the chronic congestion that no vet has been able to figure out.  We’ve tried every medicine they’ve given us and nothing has helped.  Because of her high blood pressure, we are limited in some medications.  She can’t take Terbutaline and it might help her if she could.  It’s a Catch-22. 

Mr. Creme

Jezibel’s son, Mr. Creme, 14, has been diabetic for several years now.  He gets an insulin injection each day and I also give him “Lifelink”, a pill which helps his legs stay strong.  The diabetes caused his legs to weaken.  When he was first diagnosed and started insulin, he walked like a raccoon.  His legs were not straight and he struggled to get around.  Within days of starting the Lifelink, he was able to jump and walk normally.

Mr. Creme has been an easy patient, as long as he doesn’t get distracted.  He looks forward to the attention he gets when I feed him in the morning.  I stay with him and watch him eat.  When he signals that it’s time for his pill and injection, I go over to him and he eats his pill in a pill pocket, gets four holistic cat treats from Trader Joe’s, and his injection of 3 units of insulin.  It’s the same routine every morning.  I won’t change anything because he likes it and as long as he eats well, he will stay regulated on the insulin. 

In the evening, the routine is basically the same, except he doesn’t get a pill pocket.  He eats and when I see him stop and look at me, I take the treats and add them to his food.  He continues to eat and he gets his injection of 2 units of insulin.

Jezibel gave birth to nine kittens on March 22, 2000.  Lexi and Mr. Creme are the only “kittens” left from her litter.  All others have passed away.  It was quite a dynasty.  Since she joined our family with her kittens, we grew from our original three cats to seven cats.  It has never dropped below seven cats in our house since then.

When Taz died, I read books about pet loss, joined a lymphoma support group online, talked to Charlie and friends.  Grief is something that just has to run its course.  I don’t believe there is a time limit on when to stop grieving or even to stop grieving.  Why do you have to stop?  The pain does recede a little, but then a picture, or a toy, or a special Christmas ornament, brings up the memories of having such a magnificent cat and companion. 

A few days after Taz died, I called a friend of mine in Arizona, who I had not talked to in a long time.  She was also a cat lover.  She had also been following my blog on Taz’s journey with lymphoma.  “I thought he was going to make it”, she told me.  I listened while she updated me on losing a couple of her cats.  I know how much she loved them and I could hear the grief in her voice.  Even so, she told me to look for a sign from Taz.  He would give me one.  It might not be soon, but I would know it when it happened.  He would let me know that he was still with me and he was all right.

I knew I would have another kitten one day and my thoughts were that I would know when and where to find him.  Usually when I was in my car driving, I would talk to Taz and say, “Where are you Baby?  I have to know so I can come and get you.”  Oh, well, it made me feel better to talk to him.

One day in December, just two months after Taz died, I had to stop at Petsmart for catfood.  There was one on my way home from shopping, so I stopped there, thinking I wouldn’t have to go the extra way to our regular Petsmart.  They didn’t have the catfood, so I drove on over to the other store.

I always go in and look at the cats and kittens before doing my shopping.  They are placed there by a rescue service and not sold by Petsmart.  I wasn’t looking for a kitten, but there was the prettiest little ginger and white kitten, rubbing against the cage.  He was quite the attention-getter.  Everyone wanted to touch him.  I went over and got close to him.  He was 3 months old and his name was “Brody”.  I instantly wanted him.  I don’t know why, but I did.  Trying not to be impulsive, I decided I would do my shopping, go home and tell Charlie about “Brody” and bring him back to see him.  If “Brody” was still there, I planned to adopt him.  If he was gone, it was not to be.

When Charlie saw “Brody”, he also liked him.  We did the paperwork to adopt “Brody”, but I had to go home and get a kennel to transport him from the store.  They would not allow him to leave otherwise, which was fine.

On the way home, “Brody” became “Jonesie”.  From the moment he came into our house, he got along with the other cats and the dog.  He just made himself at home.  His personality is one of pure sweetness.  I can’t find one fault with his behavior.

He has become my cat, although, unlike Taz, who completely possessed me and would not allow any other cat near me, Jonesie sits at a distance and does not come over if I have another cat in my lap.  Taz would not only come over, but he would make it known to the cat on my lap that he had to leave...now!  I loved being owned by Taz.

Jonesie in his own sweet and quiet way, will come over and get on my lap and purr while I pet him.  There’s no hurry.  He is patient.

When I adopted Jonesie, I was told by the girl who fostered him that as a kitten, he and his four litter mates were found in a dumpster.  This was just three months before.  I told her about losing Taz two months ago and she said I might be consoled to think that while we were losing Taz, Jonesie was being saved.  It was bittersweet, but consolation none the less.

Like the four years that have passed since Taz died, I can’t believe that Jonesie was four years old in September.  I have seen each year go by and wonder if I’ll ever get that sign that my friend told me about.  For some reason, this year felt different, like I was waiting for a special anniversary or occasion.  That was just the feeling since it weighed on my mind more than usual.  I dread each year passing because it doesn’t seem real somehow that so much time goes by.

I wanted to dream of him, but so far, in four years, he has never come to my dreams.  But, I think I got my sign this morning.  I was in my bathroom, getting ready for work.  Jezibel was on the foot of the bed.  I heard that familiar growl, like she used to give when Taz was harassing her.  I looked in to see who was bothering her.  Jonesie was sitting there looking at her, not unlike the way Taz would look at her.  Jonesie was challenging Jezibel!  He never challenges anyone.  For a moment, it was Jezibel and Taz on that bed.  The mannerisms, everything. 

Taz and his mom

Jonesie and his mom

Jonesie doesn’t look like Taz.  He doesn’t act like Taz.  But, all of those times I talked to him in my car and asked, “Where are you Baby? I have to know so I can come and get you”.......Taz told me where Jonesie was and I went to get him.

More later.....

My middle name is Devil,
Tazzy D _^..^_