Goodbye, sweet ol’ Jasmine

22 January 2012 0 Comments

It is with great sorrow and a heavy heart that I share with you the passing of Jasmine, a small, black cat who lived a full and pampered life of nearly 16 years. She and Chantel (the himalayan/ragdoll mix pictured here with Jasmine) were the last family pets my brother and I had at home when we each moved out.

Jasmine came to us in 1996 as a stray kitten we found in our back yard. She was a tiny thing, full of hiss with jet black so all you could ever see were her green eyes. We took her inside, and if memory serves me correctly, she was only a guest until we could find her a home. But after only a few days, my stepdad had given her a name. I remember mom sharing the news, which she promptly followed with, “Well, I guess that means we’re keeping her!”

I remember during the morning hours of one of her first days with us, I went poking around the house to look for her. It didn’t take long, as I found her in my mother’s office tucked away under an office table where mom had some boxes and a folding treadmill stacked underneath. There was just enough room for me to see her eyeballs amid the furry shadow and to reach in a grab the kitten. She hissed as much as she could, but when you’re only a few weeks old, you haven’t yet mastered the ability to cast fear.

In the summer of the following year, we moved across town and Jasmine remained part of the family with two other cats. One of the others had to be given away after she destroyed my mom’s office, leaving just Chantel and Jasmine for the past 11 years or so. Chantel’s getting older, too, and may be with “the rheumatiz” so she tends to stay in her bed most of the time. With Chantel bugging mom less often, that left Jasmine with ample opportunity to befriend my mother and become her regular pal, accompanying her in her office while she graded papers or watched the Bunkers on TV. And Jasmine never let mom forget when 5 pm came around because she would not have a late “scoop”.

Recently, mom discovered some lumps in a few areas on Jasmine, and the veterinarian said she didn’t have much time left — weeks, possibly months. During my last visit at Christmas, I had a chance to feel one of the larger knots behind her ear, and it was terrible thing to find on a sweet, vibrant, and friendly little person.

This morning, I got a phone call from mom. She informed me that Jasmine had not been eating or drinking hardly at all lately and rarely left her sleeping place. Mom figured that Jasmine had no quality of life left and was only suffering now, and any more time was merely delaying the inevitable. She took Jasmine to the veterinarian’s office Friday morning, and we lost her. As youthful as she was, she probably could have lived another ten happy years. But cancer is no joke.

What a good kitty, Jasmine, Jazz, Jazzbone, J-bone, Bone, Jazzerminn… I’ll always remember the first laser pen I bought, and how focused and utterly determined she was while trying to catch the red dot. I’ll always remember how she nearly disappeared in a dark room, and how she could only ever muster half a meow. And finally, I’ll never forget how, while she just loved to be pet, she hated for anyone to touch her head — and I did it anyway. Bye, dear Jasmine.