The unconditional love of a furry friend......

Well it's New Year's Eve ..... very late afternoon in fact ...... and I thought it would be nice to have one last memory of Jonesy for 2011. Don't get me wrong, as I will certainly write more in future posts, but this one is important to me. I am not sure why, as it definitely is not an ending, or a finalisation, to my missing Jonesy. Maybe it is because I want his memory to carry on into next year. It probably sounds daft, but our 2012 calender is the type you buy and put your own pictures in, and yes, you have guessed it, the pictures each month will be of Jonesy! Today I feel under the weather, with a sore throat and a cold, and it is a time like this that I feel emotional and could do with a cat to cuddle. The girls are not really attuned to me like Jonesy was, and only appear when they need company. Funny, but he always seem to sense when I was not 100% and needed a cat to mope with. If you are a cat lover you will know the overwhelming sense of comfort you get when you bury your head in their furry softness, and feel the warmth of an unconditional loving purr? It's a mutual love that is different from that with a human, and I was always grateful to receive it! I think I have been building up to being ill, to be honest, because over the last few days I have gone into a reminiscing mode. For example, yesterday when we pulled up the drive after shopping, I really felt Jonesy ought to be racing out of the front door to howl around our legs as we unloaded the bags from the boot. How could we leave him so long......wow what fantastic goodies are in those rustling bags.....I need food 'now'.......and all the palaver that went with him!! It was a very intense feeling of something missing, and no amount of meowing from Ripley or Peanut made it feel the same. I wonder why that is? Gosh, he was such a demanding cat......and yet I miss that part of him most of all.
The girls are pretty old now, 17 in the first part of next year, and they seem to be going pretty do-lally! Either that, or Ripley, in particular, is mimicking how Jonesy used to vocalise his demands? She has always been a 'talky' cat but over the last few weeks she has become extremely loud. Just like Jonesy would have particular meows, which would vary in sound and loudness depending on if anyone was taking any notice of him, Ripley has started to do the same thing. Do cats remember....do cats miss each other....do cats know another cat is not around any more? Who knows? It is funny to hear a cat meow in a plaintive 'is any one there?' way. Jonesy used to bound in from outside and stop short in the kitchen. From wherever I was at the time....in the sitting room, upstairs, wherever.....I could hear this. He would do that meow like he was calling out. If I answered he would do a chirpy meow, and race to find me. The deep satisfied purr of welcome was always a joy to me. My sons and husband tell me he did the same to them. I wonder if cats do that all the time, even when no one is in the house? Only a tape recorder would show that, I suppose, lol? Ripley does it now. She never used to. I do wonder why?
As 2011 comes to a close I want my memory of  Jonesy to be one that brings a smile to my face......the smile that I always had when ever I was privileged to have his company......and indeed that smile is on my face right now!

It's Christmas......

It's just a short post today. It's 5pm on Christmas day and i am feeling relaxed and full. the cats are asleep on my son's bed after meowing the house down for some Christmas dinner. This morning I woke up really early, around 5am, because Ripley started to meow and howl and generally wanted someone to get up. As hubby has to work tomorrow, and won't get another lay in, I got up. While I pottered about fiddling with getting the dinner prepared, and the table laid, it did feel peaceful and quiet. Just once I went and looked at Jonesy's picture hanging on the tree. It was all okay. Maybe I am finally getting used to him not being here, but when I went to get dressed later I did have a little cry......it did feel a little too quiet, in spite of Ripley howling in the dark hours of the morning!! I know we did the right thing and I am happy Jonesy felt no pain.......so I raise my glass to my noisy, annoying, loving, wonderful, one-of-a-kind cat Jonesy. I miss you fella........

Cats just love clean washing..........

Over the last few days I have been busy preparing for Christmas, and some of that time was spent ironing, and in particular the napkins and tablecloth for the Christmas lunch table.I hate ironing and was glad to get it done! Placing it carefully on a side table, along with crackers and games, I congratulated myself on being so well organised. That is until I came home this evening to find a cat had slept on the table cloth. By process of elimination I knew it had been Ripley.....the fur remains were black...she has dark fur...Peanut is ginger...the fur remains were not ginger! Simple!
It has made me realise how long Jonesy has been gone, because I have got pretty complacent about newly washed and ironed clothes. Yep.....he was a devil for sneaking into my washing basket when I was busy, and curling up to sleep. The resulting mangle cats hair and what was clean washing used to send me into a muttering wreck. It didn't matter if I put the basket into the utility room and shut the door, because he would somehow get the door open and end up sat in the basket. Maybe it was the wonderful smell of the fabric softener I use, lol? Jonesy would always entwine himself round the ironing board which often caused me moments of panic that the whole lot would topple over. While he never attempted to attack the iron flex as it waved back and forward when I ironed, Jonesy would generally pat, bap or tug at any item of washing hanging over the board. That would generally end up with me shouting "Jonesy gerrroffff" and Jonesy finding his claw was stuck in the said item, so I had to stop everything and rescue him. Why I never banished him to another room while I ironed, I will never know. Oh hang on, yes I do...the constant, gradually escalating, howls of agony at being shut out would be worse!
Changing the beds, and putting fresh new bedclothes on, always resulted in all three cats sprawled over the duvet cover. Or at least one of them tucked in behind a pillow. Any newly washed clothes laid on my sons bed for him to put away were quickly used as a cat bed should my son not bother...which was frequently! The only thing weird was that the girls liked smelly socks but Jonesy had more style. He only ever liked clean washing!!

Stocking-gate........

Cats have an extraordinary sense of smell! Ours can smell a chicken cooking a mile away. Certainly Jonesy could smell it even from the caravan park (see earlier blog post), and would race back home before we could even start the electric carving knife. On that note.....cats have extraordinary hearing too, lol. The whizz of the carving knife starting up has always been the cue for our cats to storm into the kitchen, and seat them selves impatiently right under my husbands feet as he strived to hack a joint apart. I suppose association could factor in the sense of smell, but it seemed to us that our cats were pretty sneaky where food was concerned...and Ripley and Peanut still are!
As humans go, I imagine our cats have always thought we are pretty dense. Why do I say that? Because we try in vain to hide the fact we have food, cat crunchies, cat treats and even cat Christmas stockings from them. Every year I ask my husband if we should buy a cat Christmas stocking, and every year he says an emphatic no! It's all, no doubt, because of 'stocking gate' which ran for two Christmases.
In our wisdom, when we were relatively new cat owners, one Christmas we decided to buy a great cat Christmas stocking and wrap it, and hide it under the tree. Silly us!! Arriving back from work one day shortly after, we found some of the wrapping paper strewn around the tree. The cat Christmas stocking appeared to be okay so I gamely re-wrapped it. Oh how daft. The very next day we came home to a totally dismantled present, with cat treats missing from the bag, and cat nip toys dotted across the lounge! All the cats were snoozing around the house...indeed Jonesy was under the tree. How could we tell who had been 'naughty cat'? Ripley was (still is) champion paper shredder, Jonesy had the sense of smell that would spot food miles away, and Peanut usually sat there egging the other two on! I will admit they did not get any more treats that Christmas.
The following year we tried again. You can tell by that statement that the important word is 'tried'!! This time I took the drastic action of hiding the stocking in the wardrobe. Of-course I forgot it was in there, like you do? I even totally ignored the fact all three cats would go off into the wardrobe if I left the door open. After all, if I caught them in there I would shout and flap my hands, until they manoeuvred themselves out of whichever shoe/bag/rubbish they had been hiding under.I never thought, in a million years, that one of them had managed to chew open the cat Christmas stocking again...and eat all the treats! In fact it was Christmas eve when my husband went to fetch it, cleverly hidden as we thought, to place it under the tree. Oh woe is us, for the stocking was ripped to shreds and the toys were over the wardrobe floor and the treats were gone. Which cat had done the deed? To this day we have no idea. Cat nip sends the cats into ecstasy, and then sleep mode....nothing unusual for all the cats at some point in the day. We were oblivious to the sneaky cats! Have we bought a cat Christmas stocking this year? No, lol.............

The Christmas present wrapper.....

Oooooo the sound of paper...any paper...drives my cats wild with excitement! All three of my cats loved newspaper, paper bags and most especially wrapping paper. Ripley still is mad about newspapers and if you leave one lying on the floor she will literally take a flying leap and skid across the pages, scattering them every where. She also likes to shred it with her teeth and claws, which makes a nasty confetti mess that takes ages to clear up. Peanut simply watches her, and certainly only ever watched Jonesy in his paper escapades. I suppose too many times being whacked across the ears by the other two made her pretty careful about getting involved?
Over the last week or so wrapping the Christmas presents has reminded me of the times I spent with Jonesy. It has made me miss him terribly and feel pretty sad, because Jonesy followed me everywhere, unless he was sprawled over the bed or sofa, and he would trot after me with excitement if he heard the rustle of wrapping paper. There were two places I wrapped presents...one being my bed (no idea why as bending over the bed would give me back ache) and the other being the dining room table. Now it was okay if I used the table....Jonesy would sit on one of the chairs, and from time to time bap the paper if it came close to him. Leaving any ribbon or bows around was fatal though. Rolls of ribbon would cascade off the table if he managed to grab one with his claw, and he would launch himself onto the floor to chase it around. This would result in me shouting while trying to retrieve the ribbon, and him sulkily getting back on the chair to sneakily grab anything he could. The bed scenario was worse! Why I ever thought wrapping presents on a bed was a good idea I will never know (and do you know what....I still did it last weekend!) If you have read any of my previous posts, you will know that shutting Jonesy out of a room resulted in rapidly louder howls of misery, until you would just let him in and suffer the consequences. I learnt that wrapping paper apparently is good to sit on. Oh and good to lie on. If you had a present on the paper, or in the paper, it was even better. Add ribbon to the recipe and you had the ingredients for a disaster. Oh, and picking sellotape off cats' fur is no fun for the cat or the person doing it! Even remembering all that hassle, it was far too quiet when I wrapped the presents last week....and way too easy.

The mad Christmas 'apple' dash.......

Putting up the Christmas tree over the weekend reminded me of how all the cats reacted during this time of year. We quickly learnt that having a real tree when you have kittens is not such a good idea! Finding a cat half way up a tree clinging for dear life to a branch, while pine needles rain down onto the carpet caused total mayhem. We took to tying the tree to a shut door handle each year to stop the inevitable teetering of the tree, as 3 cats chased each other round and round, and in and out of, the carefully wrapped presents. Jonesy, as ever, was particularly interested in the decorations on the tree. Every day, on returning home from work, we would find many of the lower tree decorations scattered around the room. In particular, Jonesy loved some 'apple' decorations we had. They were the size of a ping pong ball, and made of some light polystyrene painted red, with two small gold leaves attached. These were obviously very easy for a cat to bap around, and made a satisfying clunk when they hit a wall. Jonesy would trot around, holding the apple in his mouth by a leaf, once he managed to get one off the tree. From time to time he would drop the apple and whack it with his paw, and then race around chasing it. Many a time my husband and I would end up flat on our stomachs trying to fish an 'apple' out from under the tv, or sideboard, or sofa, with some spatula or wooden spoon! It got to the stage where he would sit patiently, wherever the apple had disappeared to, and meow for one of us to fiddle for ages attempting to get the 'apple' out. Funny enough neither of the girls were interested in this game! Over the years we kept the 'apples' out of the decoration box so Jonesy could play with them all year round. Even up to last year I would be able to go to the drawer where it was kept, and hold it up to Jonesy while saying 'apple Jonesy....do you want to play with the apple'? He would perk up and meow, so that I would roll it across the floor towards him. There would follow 10 or 15 minutes of frantic bashing of apple, and one mad excited cat racing around the whole ground floor of the house! If you were not fast enough to leap out of the way you were in danger of getting hit by a flying decoration! It was certainly a great way of wearing out a cat if he was bored!  I still have one of the battered 'apples'in a drawer.....the girls don't play with it, but I am keeping it for now as it reminds me of Jonesy's mad apple dashes.......

The king size duvet fight.......

Allowing cats to roam your house can make it hard when you don't want them in the same room as you when you are busy! It was always easy to make Ripley vanish as she hated the hoover....and still does. Turn it on, drag it into the same room as Ripley, watch Ripley haul herself up and whizz out of the room. Peanut has always ignored the hoover and simply stays asleep. Jonesy, on the other hand, had to follow you from room to room. As I have said in a previous post, he loved water and the bathroom. This made for exasperating moments where I would clean the bathroom, clean the bath and sink, exit the room and then hear the scrabble of cat's paws. I would go back into the bathroom to find Jonesy cat ALWAYS sitting in the damp bath. If he had recently been outside there would be dirty paw prints dotted around, and if not, then ginger cats hair would be scattered everywhere. Even if I turned the shower head on to try and get him to jump out, Jonesy would simply watch the water trickle towards him and disdainfully edge backwards. I never learned to shut the door after cleaning that room!!

Changing the bed was an exciting game to Jonesy. The girls would simply move to another room if they were on the bed, but Jonesy would obstinately sit upright, watching me intently. He would allow me to yank the duvet slowly from under his feet, so that he toppled over and ended up sprawled out on the sheet. I would do the same again, and he would also do the same! The rest of the bed clothes Jonesy would ignore as he perched in the middle of the mattress. Now the fun would begin as I would try to remake the bed with clean bedclothes. Cats LOVE clean bed clothes....indeed they love clean freshly ironed anything, as I have found out to my cost....and Jonesy was no exception. Trying to place a king sized duvet cover on a king sized duvet, while a cat tries to help, is no fun. First Jonesy would stay in the middle of the bed. I would manage to get part of the cover on and shake the duvet. Jonesy would end up under the duvet. There would be a mound in the middle of the duvet. I would chase him out from under the duvet. I would then try to finish getting the covers in the duvet. While I was at one end doing this, Jonesy would somehow manage to get inside the duvet cover. There would then be a spell of 'chase the cat in the duvet cover' round the duvet trying to get him out. In the end I would have to literally haul him out, while he meowed and protested and generally gave me a hard time for spoiling his fun. The remainder of the bed making time would be spent with the cat and the duvet having a game of 'which can stay on the bed for the longest'.  Most of the time I would win simply by sheer will power of shoving Jonesy off the bed, and then racing round to position the quilt before he could leap back onto the bed. Sometimes he would win. That was when I would have to just ban him from the room. (No idea why I never did that in the first place?) The noise of a cat who is upset, because he has been shut out of a room, is enough to make you weep. The protesting chirp would start first, then that would progress to a pitiful meow, which then went on the a full orchestra of yowls mixed with howls, depending on if he was being ignored by me. Do you know what? It was easier to let him in and fight the king sized duvet fight than leave him to make his displeasure known. That was one indulged cat!

One disobedient cat..........

Most cats like to be high up! All three of ours are no exception, and only today, when I came home from work, it was obvious that one of the girls had decided to suspend herself from the top of my net curtain. How did I know that? By the fact it was hanging half off and there were claw marks part of the way down. To be frank it did seem like which ever cat it was, she had grabbed the curtain on her way down from the top of the window. The mind boggles as to what they get up to when we are all out? I suspect it was Ripley who had gone curtaineering (as aposed to mountaineering!) as Peanut is just too darn lazy, but you never know.
Jonesy always preferred to survey the world from above. You would walk through the hall way, something would grab your attention out of the corner of your eye, and low and behold you would find Jonesy peering through the banister at approximately 5 inches above the level of your head. Even when the Christmas decorations were entwined round the bannisters, with baubles and all sorts on, he would still manage to wedge his head through, generally knocking much of the artistically placed items off in the process. At the landing level our banisters had wooden posts and as you went down the stairs he would often gently bap your shoulder or head as you got level with him. As he grew older it became a game where Jonesy would wait on one side of the landing banister. Someone would walk part of the way down the stairs and then stick their hand fast through the banister posts poking Jonesy.....Jonesy would attempt to get the hand with his paw......the hand would pull back fast and go through another area of the banister posts....Jonesy would run to the hand and try to pat it.....and so the game would go on. We would end up for ages on the stairs and Jonesy would have fun...and you would usually forget what you were supposed to be doing, but it was amusing to realise he wasn't as fast as we were. Ripley, on the other hand, is a lethal cat weapon with daggers for claws and the game was never attempted with her! Humans like to keep their hands whole!!
Only Jonesy would jump onto the dining room table, though. Naughty, naughty cat. He would often skid over the highly polished surface and come to a halt with a scrabble just by the edge. There are quite a few scratches in the table that are testament to his lack of ice-skating techniques.I would go up to him, tell him off, and snap my fingers at him, moving my hand in a 'get down off the table' movement. He would chirp back at me in a 'if you think I am moving you have another thing coming' attitude. We would carry on this argument for a while, with my hand movements getting rather more frantic and his chirps turning into louder meows.His whole body would crouch lower and lower on the table until he was lying down flat out. I would then proceed to try and push him off the table! Jonesy's body would go completely ridged, so that it would end up with him sliding in a circle on the polished table surface as I pushed. Eventually I would have to pick him up to put him on the floor, where upon he would nonchalantly stalk off as if nothing had happened, leaving me to dust off the cat's hair. If he was feeling particularly disobedient he would instead, launch himself at the dining room door close by. With extreme amounts of scrabbling Jonesy would manage to get on the top of the door, where he would pace up and down looking haughtily at us, or crouch down and dangle his leg just by our heads. The protesting meows as we grabbed him off the door were as loud as if we were killing him!! Let's face it, he did not want to get down....

The shopping night ritual..........

The rustle of plastic shopping bags was like music to Jonesy's ears.....it meant the possibility of food for a gut bucket cat, as well as unlimited fun getting your whole body into a small space and then scaring the girl cats silly by leaping out at them! Forget special cat nip toys, (although those were a favourite too), because a plastic bag was much more exciting. I am not sure when Jonesy began his fascination with bags, but most kittens and cats find them great entertainment. The association with food, on the other hand, didn't take long to work out. We tended to always do our shopping after I finished work on a Friday, and by the time we had got home it would be close to 6.30. Cats have super sensitive hearing and ours could easily recognise our car pulling up the drive. As soon as the front door was opened so we could go back and unload the shopping from the car, Jonesy would shoot out to have a nosey at what was happening. It didn't matter what the weather was like...if it was raining he would race under the car and peer out excitedly...if it was summer he would ponce about our legs getting in the way...if it was snowing he would yowl from the doorway to tell us to hurry up! Even when we changed to 'bags for life' that didn't rustle so intriguingly, he would still sniff them in frantic excitement. The girls were far more sensible. Ripley would perch on the banister post and meow hello as we walked past....Peanut would perch on the middle stair and peer through the banister silently. The minute the shopping was unloaded we would coax Jonesy back in and shut the front door. All three cats would high tail it into the kitchen and therein began the fun. Well, fun for them, exasperation for us. It is almost impossible to unpack shopping with three cats milling about. At least one of them, if not all three, would at some point meow to tell us to hurry up as they were starving and hadn't been fed for ages and ages! Jonesy would try to help with the unpacking by sitting on as many bags as he could, in turn, to let us know which one to unpack. If he could get his whole body in a full shopping bag that was a bonus....if he could get his whole body in an empty one that was even better. Getting his head stuck in the handle, and then trying to walk away with a bag attached to his body, was the icing on the cake. The girls rarely messed about with the bags, but to Jonesy this was a shopping night ritual he never veered from, even when he was ill....and he always knew which bag had the cat crunchies in! In fact he tried to help us so much he would even attempt to get into the cupboard where the cat food was kept. I ask you, as if we didn't know where that was kept!

We were well trained by Jonesy!........

Being responsible pet owners we always make sure that our cats have fresh food and water every day......a fact that should make our lovely felines happy, happy, happy? Was Jonesy satisfied with this? Was he heck! Did he want fresh water in the cat bowl twice a day? Did he heck! Nope. He wanted fresh running water on tap...literally, lol. Jonesy was always vocal in his demands, and any gentle chirp to catch your attention would soon escalate into a full blown yowl if he was ignored. Trying to pretend you did not hear him did not work. We once managed to go for a full half an hour of ear splitting pathetic 'no one is taking any notice of me' howling before we gave in! He was persistent and in the end managed to get us trained rather well. Jonesy didn't bother with wanting running water from the downstairs tap. Oh no...he wanted running water from the bathroom sink tap upstairs. Generally he would wait until after we had eaten, and were slouched on the sofa relaxing. One bound off a lap, and rapid thuds of a four legged creature storming up the stairs, followed by frantic scrabbling noises as he hauled himself onto the banisters, would signal the start. Jonesy would utter one short, quiet meow. We would ignore it. Silence for a minute. Jonesy would utter a slightly louder meow. We would ignore that in the hope he would get fed up. Silence for another minute. Then Jonesy would start to yowl. This would go on for as long as we could put up with it before giving in and charging upstairs to open the bathroom door. Jonesy would drop down to to the floor with a thump, and then race into the bathroom, leap onto the toilet seat (which we fortunately we always kept down!!) and wait impatiently until the sink tap was turned on. While he was young he had no problem in getting onto the slippery sink but as he got older, bigger and heavier various acrobatic movements accompanied his effort to get onto it. Usually much toe tapping would occur, by whichever one of us had gone into the bathroom, as Jonesy took his time to drink and shake his head and splatter us with droplets of water! Oh yes we were well trained! Why do cats do this, lol? How come the fresh water in the bowl was not good enough? Neither of the two girls ever did this, except for once, a few days ago, when Ripley did exactly the same thing as Jonesy with regard to the bathroom/sink/tap. She had never done it before, and hasn't done it again since, and it freaked me out. Only Jonesy used to do this, so why did she suddenly behave in exactly the same way as he had now he was gone? She howled at the bathroom door, I let her in and she leapt onto the toilet seat. I was a little perplexed but turned on the tap, and to my amazement she scrambled onto the sink and proceeded to drink the running water. She only did it for a few seconds and then jumped down, but it was strange. The girls tended, and still do tend, to avoid water, but Jonesy would love to sit in the bathroom while I had a bath. He would place his front paws on the bath rim, and peer intently at the bubbles and water in the bath. If I playfully splashed the water he would jump onto the edge of the bath, and skid and slip as he wobbled up and down. He did fall in twice, but it didn't seem to put him off! Gosh he made me laugh, and gosh, he exasperated me at times.What a character he was!

Roast dinner and trifle make one fat cat............

I am not sure if it was because Jonesy was a tom cat that he wandered so much? The girls, Ripley and Peanut, would perhaps stray over to the next door gardens, but no further. To be honest does anyone know what your cat gets up to while they are out? Well we didn't realise the extent of Jonesy's territory until he went missing one summer. Because of 'duckling-gate' everyone in the family knew Jonesy would nosey on down to the river, and when he didn't come back on evening when we called for him my heart sank. Although my husband slept, I certainly did not and even went out during the night to 'whisper call' his name......you can't really shout a cats name in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep! Jonesy and the girls were as regular as clockwork in coming home from their forays, especially where food was concerned. We used to rattle a box of cat crunchies as we called their names, and that was the cue for lots of scrabbling and thuds as the three cats would haul themselves over fences from where ever they had been sunning themselves, to come home. Well the girls had come home, but not Jonesy, and I was worried. Being a total gut bucket meant he liked his food, and never missed an opportunity to wolf down some titbit! This was not normal behaviour for him, and  to be honest I was scared he had fallen in the river. The next morning he still hadn't appeared, and I hated having to go off to work not knowing where he was. After two nights of no cat we couldn't stand it any more.......he was obviously stuck somewhere, locked in somewhere, or he was hurt! We were going to do everything in our power to find him. I typed up a note which stated "Lost.......our cat Jonesy is missing........" etc, along with our telephone number, and printed out enough to weigh down our arms. Then my husband and I went from door to door in the immediate neighbourhood, and across the main road, knocking on doors and giving out the notes, or posting them through letter boxes. That was when we learnt how well known Jonesy was. It seemed EVERYONE knew our ginger cat!! It also appeared he was loved by everyone, and the little old lady that lived round the side road said she fed him and that he would sleep in her sitting room. Amazing! No wonder he had a rather rotund tummy. I even walked down to the caravan park that was based at the side of the river and left a note there for their notice board. It was the note at the caravan park that proved to solve the mystery of where Jonesy had got to. It took over a week of frantic worry before a phone call put our minds at rest. The caretaker at the caravan park had seen Jonesy wandering around, and not only that but the holiday makers there had thought he actually lived in the park because he was so content there. In fact it was a passing comment from a holiday maker that had first alerted the caretaker to the new cat on the block. When she rang us Jonesy was actually in one of the caravans, and the holiday makers had shut him in so we could collect him. Well, we raced down there with the car and cat basket and could not believe what we found. Sprawled out in the caravan sitting room, purring his head off and looking like the cat that had got the cream, was Jonesy. Indeed he had got the cream, along with a roast chicken dinner and trifle, so the holiday makers told us. It seemed that he had taken a liking to them when they arrived at the park....latched on to them...got fed and watered...and put out to go home at night. Except the flipping cat hadn't gone home. Another holiday maker had fallen in love with him, also fed him and allowed him to sleep on their bed at night. Why come home when you were being pampered like that? They all realised he belonged to someone because of his collar, but each had thought he went home when he wasn't with them....in fact all he did was yo yo between them and ignore us!! Great! Abandoned by a cat. We did get apologies from the amused holiday makers, and a warning that they came every year for two weeks, and that they had seen him the previous year but he had not stayed so much. Hmmmm, something to look forward to......a cat who goes on holiday from his family. Well we took Jonesy home, and actually kept him in for a few nights to get him acclimatised to home again :-)

He never stayed away at night again......probably the pampering he got when home, tuna to eat and prawns and cream, was enough to make him realise we had missed him. Certainly the hugs and loving cuddles we gave him must have worked. At the same time the following year he vanished again for two weeks, but came home late in the evenings. My boss and his wife were actually staying at the caravan park temporarily while they were waiting to move into a new house...and yes, they saw Jonesy. We got the phone call from them and went and fetched him home......one content and fatter cat!

"You don't scare me Mr hoover"

I hate hoovering, but having cats makes it fun. Hoovering and Jonesy cat made it very good fun!! The other two cats hated the sound, and even look, of the hoover, and would run a mile when I got it out. Ripley, in particular would end up being chased from room to room as I moved about the house, skulking under furniture if I even ventured through a room door. She hated the hoover with a passion, and still does to this day. Peanut, on the other hand, totally ignores it....in fact carries on sleeping the sleep of a knocked out cat while I whizz around her. Jonesy was a different kettle of fish! He would challenge the hoover's very existence. Right from a little kitten...okay from a bundle of podgy kitten....he would look at the hoover as I got it out with utter disdain. He would cock his head as if to say "what is this thing" and sit bolt upright. When I switched the hoover on he would not even flinch as Ripley shot away into the distance. He would nonchalantly wash himself in the most awkward place, like the middle of the sitting room, or on the stairs, as I tried to get him to move. I would have to gently edge up to him with the brush and shove at his backside to try and get him to move. At times I would have to shove hard to get him to even stand up! Once I took the brush off and used the nozzle close to him to see if it would make him move faster....nope.....I ended up sucking his fur, much to Jonesy's shock. It didn't make him move, though. He simply swiped at the nozzle with his paw! Even his tail was sucked up the hoover when he wouldn't get out of the way. Many a time Jonesy's fur got the hoover treatment...he just would not move. Even as he got ill he would still peer down from the great height of a table as I hoovered as if to say "you don't scare me Mr hoover"!

Chirp....mew....meow....MEOW.....

It is a fact that no one in our house arose earlier than Jonesy! It didn't matter if we were getting up at 5am, because he would be wide awake just before we were. How did I know that? In the winter I would 'come to' in the mornings and realise it was time to wake up, I would also be aware of a cat perched on my chest.......or on the pillow above my head....or right close up next to me. This cat....Jonesy....would be purring like a train rumbling through the station. Loud does not describe the sound! The magnitude of an earthquake maybe! If Jonesy was on my chest and I opened my eyes, it would be to find his nose about half a centimetre away from mine. His eyes would stare into mine and his purr would raise the roof. He was VERY happy that one of us was awake. Of course as he got older he would dribble sometimes...not a pleasant experience to wake up to if he was half a centimetre away from my nose, I can tell you. No matter if we didn't wake up until the alarm went off,  because Jonesy will still be perched rigidly upright somewhere close to one of us, wide awake.

In the summer it was different! Dawn would break at some ungodly hour and the birds would start to sing. That was Jonesy's cue to be awake....even if we were not! It was light...the world was alive....he wanted to be out.....NOW. There would be a tentative chirp at first....we would ignore that. The chirp would change to a mew....we would shuffle and turn over, and ignore that. The mew would change into a meow.....a plaintive meow. We would snuggle under the covers and try to ignore that. It didn't work! Jonesy's meow would, second by second, rise up the decibel scale until it was, indeed, impossible to do anything but get up and let him out. We were fortunate in that we had a flat roof over our sun lounge, below our window, and as my husband slept on the side of the bed next to the window he was designated 'window opener'. He would grumble, believe me he would grumble. My husband that is! Jonesy would bound out the window and we would attempt to drop off to sleep again. Which we always did...only to be woken up when Jonesy would leap back in the window. The first warning of the impending four legged creature would be the thud as he landed back on the window sill. If that didn't wake you up then the leap from the window sill onto your stomach/back/leg/body part would. It didn't matter that Jonesy could jump onto the foot of the bed. He always landed on my husband...who would shout, so Jonesy would then leap onto me. The 'oof' bursting from our mouths as he leapt onto each of us probably would be funny to hear, except we were usually in shock! Throughout his whole life Jonesy never waived in his routine, come winter or summer, until this last year. I suppose he was getting older, and stiffer, and the effort of leaping up to the window sill was too much for him to bother with, but he still always managed to wake up before us!

Playing chicken is detrimental to a cat's health.......

Living on a main road is detrimental to a cat's life! Having a fascination with cars is also detrimental to a cat's life and Jonesy was nothing less than fearless where cars were concerned. He would sit on the front garden path and watch the world speed by until one of us spotted him and coaxed him back inside. Short of keeping all 3 of our cats inside, we knew it would be impossible to protect them all the time. The two girls, Ripley and Peanut, seemed to have a healthy respect for the roaring metal vehicles speeding by our house, but Jonesy appeared to believe totally in the fact he had 9 lives! When he was young we would spy him across the main road at some dawn hour of the morning, and in the end we would simply shut the 3 of them in the house at night so we could get some sleep without worrying. There is a strong possibility that Jonesy had some near misses, because he stopped his forays across the death trap pretty quick and roamed the side street instead. The routine in the mornings (...and his waking hour is for another post, lol!!!) meant Jonesy would wake us up, get fed and once we opened the cat flap he would scamper off into the distance. Generally, at around 6.30 am when my husband left for work and walked round to the side street to get to his work van, he would espy Jonesy either rummaging in someone's bin bag that had been left out, or nonchalantly wandering down the pavement to see what he could find. No amount of shooing or coaxing could get Jonesy to turn around to come home. His disdain of our concern was disconcerting, to say the least. Jonesy did as he wished, and no amount of human intervention could make him do anything if he didn't want to do it. If our car was parked on the drive and my husband was washing it, working on it, or simply fiddling with it as men do (!) Jonesy would float around and watch intently. If a door should happen to be open, or the boot, he would slip inside when no one was looking. Cat hair became a feature of the car seats! It took Jonesy to be hurt before he learnt that the roads were not safe for him. One day I went upstairs into our bedroom to find Jonesy lain on our bed, panting and a large wide gash in his side and his leg. He was bleeding badly and to this day we have no idea how he got home and up the stairs...we never heard him come in. I screamed for my husband and we raced down to the vets. To be honest we thought a fox or dog had gone for him, but the vet told us he had probably been caught under a car as it drove off. Cats tend to sit under cars, and he had been caught by the tyres as one pulled away. He was lucky to be alive and adrenalin had got him home. He had to have stitches and stay in. Not only was Jonesy miserable during that time, but so we were......he made it plain, even hobbling on 3 legs, that he wanted be outside and he definitely did not want to take any medicine. Would Jonesy learn from this....did he heck! Once he was better and allowed out we would still catch him down the side road, albeit rather more cautiously, but never ever across the main road. Well not that we knew of anyway!

Duckling-gate.............

How much panic could one cat cause? An awful lot, I can tell you! Having a friendly, curious, roamer for a pet kept us on our toes constantly, and even having him neutered made no difference what so ever. I was under the impression having the 'operation' would calm Jonesy down....did it heck! Cats have a particular yowl which all cat owners know means a 'present' is being deposited in a place you would definitely rather it wasn't. We got used to headless bodies being found in the garden from time to time, but 'duckling-gate' was the start of weeks of stalking Jonesy to see where he was going. Our house is fairly close to a river. By that I mean it is around 500 meters away in a straight line. Cats cant be bothered to follow pavements and roads, but simply weave their way across fences and gardens directly to the spot they are aiming for. In Jonesy's case the spot he aimed for was the river....with it's abundance of fascinating things for him to stalk! The first inkling we had that he had been down the river, was when Jonesy returned home one day after his foray into the unknown (well, the unknown to us). He was smothered in a muddy, black gunk which smelt marginally of fish. I must admit we laughed and thought he had tried to catch something and slipped into the river......thinking back about it we should have been worried, but he looked like some punk cat with his fur sticking up in all directions so we just thought it was funny! Finding a ducking running around the garden squeaking, while a cat bats it with a large paw is not so funny. Jonesy did precisely this in the weeks following. It was spring, and ducklings were being born, and Jonesy found out that they could be caught pretty easily, or at least he must have because we ended up with loads. There would be that yowl......one of us would run to the garden......Jonesy would have a duckling in his mouth.....the duckling would play dead....we would tell Jonesy he was wonderful while creeping up to him.....he would drop the duckling....it would come to life.....the duckling would run.....Jonesy would bap it.....one of us would chase them both round the garden.....eventually one of us would get the duckling *phew*. Jonesy would always lose interest pretty quick at this point, and go off and wash himself in the sun, leaving us to place the duckling in a box and cart it off to a wonderful lady who lived in Southbourne. This lovely lady took in hurt birds, orphan birds, all sorts and nursed them. We got to know her very well as a procession of ducklings made it to her house. Unfortunately, if none of us were home the duckling would meet an unfortunate end, meaning a disgusting mess for my husband to clear away, but on the whole we learnt to run when he yowled!! Obviously Jonesy had a particular route back from the river which involved going past people's houses, as one day he came home (without a duckling) with a note attached to his collar. The note said "did you know your cat keeps catching ducklings". Hmm mm yes we did, who are you, shall we attach an answer to Jonesy's collar and why not give us your telephone number? We never did reply as most of the ducklings Jonesy brought home survived, but to this day we have no idea who wrote the note.............

One bump and Jonesy was born........

Jonesy cat was born in our car, right in the middle of Christchurch high street! His poor mum (named Peanut.....so called because she is a tiny ginger cat, the size of a peanut, or so it appeared to be when she was a kitten.) was struggling with her labour, and the vet told us to come straight down. We placed Peanut in a box on a cushion and I held the box on my lap as we raced through town. One bump in the road later and Jonesy was born. My husband took one look and said "ah, Jonesy"!! I suppose being a fan of the first Alien film, which had a  ginger cat called Jonesy in it, may have had something to do with the name, lol? He was a big bruiser of a  kitten, and made his presence felt from the word go. Peanut had two other kittens in the same litter and they were unusual shades of peachy ginger and cream females, so we decided we would keep one of them.When they were 6 weeks old the couple who had said they would take two kittens came to visit..... and fell in love with the two girls. My husband and I looked at each other and decided we would keep Jonesy, and, to be frank, it was the best, most wonderful decision we made. Funny how things turn out! It seemed his mum, Peanut, did not agree. I suppose one big, demanding tom kitten and one tiny ginger fluff probably don't mix...? Jonesy also showed his "I will be boss" tendencies to Ripley, our other cat (yes....that film Alien had an influence on her name, too). She would whack him round the ear regularly, but he never learnt to stay away, and would creep up and pounce on her with great delight. The first few months of his life were filled with hissing and squawking and paws flying, as all 3 cats battled to become "Top cat". Jonesy won!

He was demanding, loud in his attention seeking ways, and generally a disobedient kitten......but all the family fell in exasperated love with him......

In good company......

I think I am in good company!!! Since Jonesy has died I have needed my Jelly cat to cuddle, and to shake sometimes so I can hear the bell. It's like I am invoking the memory of my cat...and it certainly makes the 2 girl cats sit up and look when they hear that bell. They probably think Jonesy is back to haunt them, lol? Sometimes I have even been known to hold the Jelly cat tight and put the paws on my shoulder. Daft, but it reminds me of how I used to carry Jonesy around. Shades of the 'mad cat woman' coming out again, me thinks? The good company I am in is that of Lorraine Chase, currently appearing on 'I'm a celebrity, get me out of here'. She has Tedwood, a teddy bear that is very dear to her, and I have just read an article about why she is so attached to it. Okay, so my Jelly cat is to remind me of Jonesy, a cat, and her Tedwood is to remind her of the love of her life, John Knight, but we both have these 'toys' for similar reasons. When I read the item I fully understood why she has this need to have Tedwood.......
Most people lose their attachment to their favourite stuffed toys decades before they are eligible to collect their pension.

But Lorraine Chase, 60, was left in floods of tears after DJ and former children’s TV presenter Pat Sharp threatened to kidnap and burn her teddy bear Tedwood.The crisis, now dubbed Tedwood-gate, saw contestants on ITV reality show I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here! rowing over the cuddly toy.friends revealed Tedwood is a poignant reminder to the actress of the 'love of her life' John Knight, who died of leukaemia in 1997.

The couple had been together for 20 years.Brian Crawford, owner of the Tramp club in London, who gave her the bear, said Tedwood travels everywhere with her.

He told the Mail: ‘Tedwood means absolutely everything to Lorraine.

‘She has been through a lot of heartache in her life and of course the most awful was when her partner of twenty years, John Knight, died of leukaemia in 1997. 

‘She had this teddy which meant the world to her and she was devastated when she lost it.‘She is my absolute dearest and closest friend so I bought her this stuffed Steiff teddy to cheer her up.

‘She was absolutely overjoyed and there were a lot of tears shed when I gave him to her.

‘It goes with her everywhere. Lorraine and I have flown first class to tropical islands and little Tedwood has been assigned his own seat in the plane.

Mr Crawford added: ‘It is a shame the other campmates are attacking her for being so attached to the little teddy because she has been through a lot in her life and she is the most lovely person with a truly good heart.

‘She lost the love of her life to cancer and I think her feelings for him were carried over onto the ‘Ted’.'

The actress, who shot to fame as the face of Campari’s iconic advertising campaign in the 1970s, told the Mail earlier this year about the bear.

She said: ‘Tedwood, my little bear, was a replacement for a very dear bear who’d been my companion for 15 years.He was given to me by a partner, but when that era came to an end I had to give him back because it would have been too painful to keep him.

‘I was so distraught I rang my dearest friend, Brian Crawford, who sent Tedwood to replace him. He’s proof that I have good friends and that life goes on.’ 

Her friend Julia Fieldhouse, who has flown to Australia to support her on the ITV reality show, added: ‘Tedwood goes wherever Lorraine goes. He’s been all over the world, including my house on numerous occasions.

‘However, he’s normally very well behaved. He takes his position on a bedroom dressing table and stays there until he departs to the next location.'

Miss Chase has rarely spoken about her relationship with advertising director John Knight, only saying: ‘His death hit me extremely hard.’

It may seem funny to some people, but we all deal with grief in different ways, and I am glad that Lorraine Chase has found some way of remembering someone who was very close to her. In my next posts I promise I will start to remember Jonesy as I should do.......his quirks, his amusing moments, his annoying moments, his character.....the way I want to remember him!! The way he deserves to be remembered, and hopefully this will stop me feeling so angry. I know it wont stop the tears, but it will make me smile more often than cry, and that must be a good thing?

Coming home......

I think this is working! I cried my eyes out last night after writing my blog, but today I feel a little better. It must be the fact that I am letting my thoughts guide the words I write. I know I am really upset inside about Jonesy dying, and I also know I feel totally daft. My husband came into the room as I was crying last night, and when he asked what was the matter I just sobbed and sobbed. I told him about the blog, and why I was doing it. We hadn't talked much about the decision we had made, or Saturday 22nd October, and to be honest I hadn't realised how my husband has been feeling either. I have been caught up in my own 'coping with grief' time, while he became the 'brave man who doesn't get upset'. It helped to talk, and I also said how angry I have been. The memories are too raw for us to chat properly about how we felt, and how we feel now, but that will come in time.

For days after Jonesy died I wanted to go to the vet and fetch him back. It was like an itch inside me, and I had to constantly suppress the need to phone the surgery. We had been told Jonesy's ashes would take about 10 days to 2 weeks to be returned to us, and it made me feel very restless during that time. I think I just wanted him home where I could feel his presence. Jonesy had been such a large part of our lives that, even though we have 2 other cats, the house felt empty. It still does now. My husband had to collect the cat box at the end of the week, and I received a text to warn me Jonesy was home. He had been cremated on the Monday so it would not have been possible to get him home as I had wanted to anyway, though I didn't know that.....I walked through the door after work and saw a cardboard box on the dining room table. Before I even took my coat off  I opened the box....and cried again. My husband had picked the most glorious, beautiful, wooden figure of a sleeping cat curled up, for Jonesy's ashes. It was more than I had imagined, and as I type this I can see it near me on the coffee table. To anyone coming into the room it simply looks like a piece of art, but we know what it holds, and it is very precious. As for Jonesy's collar and disc? Well that is round the neck of my jelly cat, bought for me many years ago by my husband. Every year at Christmas one of the presents he gives me is cat orientated. Jelly cat lays at the foot of my side of the bed....it is ginger and soft and it is my therapy at the moment. Jelly cat therapy has kept me comforted over the last few weeks. The bell on the collar tinkles when I move Jelly cat.....a familiar sound that makes me happy.

Anger...anger....anger.......guilt....guilt....guilt....

The day after the vet confirmed Jonesy was not going to last even 3 weeks, I text my husband and asked him to go and talk to the vet. We wanted Jonesy put to sleep at home, with us there to hold him. The vet explained what would happen, and the arrangement was made for Saturday. One small injection, and he would sleep forever. We could change our mind at any time...........For the rest of the week Jonesy was the most pampered cat ever. He ate like a king.....tuna, prawns, anything he fancied. He was cuddled and carried, and probably smothered in so much love that, although I want to cry thinking about it, I can also smile at the memories. We took photos and we just spent lots of time with him. It was a good few days. Jonesy's breathing was getting slightly more laboured, and we knew he was declining so every minute with him was a joy. The vet rang Saturday morning and again told us we could change our minds, that she and a nurse would not be coming until near 4pm as they had some emergencies to deal with first. I was glad. It would give us time ...... but in retrospect it was the worst to happen. The day felt heavy, like you were waiting for something to happen. Well sadly we were, weren't we? It was a glorious sunny day. Jonesy went outside and we sat with him.....and as I was outside, around 3.30pm I heard the phone ring. I knew it was the vet. My husband came out and I told him I knew. I watched Jonesy race to his food dish as the doorbell rang and the vet and nurse came in. The laughed as they looked at him and then at the box they had bought to take his body away it. It was way too small. I thought...you stupid idiot, you only saw him a few days ago. How did you not realise it would be too small! I deliberately didn't look at the dish with the syringe in.....As the vet asked again if we were sure, my husband looked at me and I nodded. It was to be beautiful.....music as I held him...he would fall asleep....a small injection....I now know this blog will help me get my rage out....because when I think about it I am so angry I want to scream. It didn't happen the way I thought. The vet and nurse asked for a table to place Jonesy on, to place a catheter in his leg ready for the injection. As he was in the sun lounge my husband told them to use the table there. I wanted to say no, but it happened too quick, as the nurse took him and held him for the catheter to be positioned. I kept thinking....he never is on this table.....it should be the dining room table because he always jumped on that, even when I told him off. I was so angry with my husband for telling them to use that table, but I can never tell him because I know he is also missing Jonesy. I do want to shout at him though! How stupid is that? It's how I feel now but I know it will pass. The nurse had to hold him tight so he didnt get hurt as the catheter went it. I wanted to hold him as they did it, but felt helpless to ask, so I talked to him..telling him "Jonesy it's okay....it's okay Jonesy". He turned his head once and meowed. Such a sad helpless meow. The other two cats came into the room as it was happening and I asked the vet if it was okay. She said animals often know what is happening....I could smell the antiseptic smell of the catheter, and if I could so could they, and so could Jonesy. He was scared, I know he was scared as he didn't know what was happening. When it was inserted I grabbed him, and held him to my shoulder. I wanted to run away and take Jonesy with me, but the vet asked where we would like to be. I just held Jonesy and said the sitting room. I had imagined holding him and talking to him while he fell asleep...as I stood still in the sitting room, and said I was ready, the vet gave Jonesy the injection. My husband had turned to adjust the music. Within a second or two I felt Jonesy's body go limp. His head slipped down and his body felt heavy. .I turned to look at his head as it sank, and inside my head I shouted out that I hadn't talked to him as he died. I hadn't soothed him. I knew he had known what was happening. How scared he would have been. How could I do this. It was too quick. I needed more time. But I still thanked the vet as I sobbed. It was polite to do so. They left us alone for a while and we both held him close...I cherish that moment but it was so sad. There are things to be checked afterwards, and obviously vets have other animals to look after so we didn't have the luxury of time. I am sure if we had asked then we could have had longer, but if you have never experienced anything like this you don't know what to do or say. I do now.... There is a lot I would do different. We let the vet and nurse take Jonesy away in his cat box, wrapped in a towel of ours. We kept his collar and disc and said goodbye. The arrangements had been made for Jonesy to be cremated alone, and for us to have his remains back in a box, a special box my husband had chosen. As my husband closed the front door, I lay my head in my arms on the kitchen work top and  howled my grief. The 2 other cats had vanished. My husband held me close, and all I could think about was that I wanted Jonesy back, and I wanted him back now. I could run after the vet and say I had made a mistake...........but I stayed still and cried instead.

Jonesy cat......

On the evening that my husband told me Jonesy was dying I cried......and cried......and cried. I know it is daft to do that over just a cat, but I had no idea it would hit me so hard. I shocked myself with the reaction I had to the news! Jonesy seemed perfectly okay, and pretty nonchalant that we were having a breakdown over his illness. He ate just fine, drank, trotted about meowing for attention, and curled up with me on the sofa. Over the last few weeks Jonesy had got into the habit of standing on his hind legs and stretching up my legs when he wanted attention, so I would reach down and pick him up, and hoist him over my shoulder. In fact I would end up carrying him around like a baby, with his front legs dangling, as he gazed about in satisfaction at the world around him. He had become one pampered cat indeed...... and everyone in the family would tease me about it. I would snuggle my head into his fur and mutter to him......I had become the 'mad cat woman' it seems (or so my sons and hubby told me, lol) It was important for me to go and talk to the vet myself, even though i knew she would give the same diagnosis. I had questions I wanted to ask. I needed the vet to tell me face to face. We made an appointment very quickly and took Jonesy back with us. I think, deep down, I wanted the vet to say there was a mistake.....that Jonesy was actually okay....but as she checked him out again, and I watched her, I knew what she would say. The illness was making him retain fluids, which in turn was making his body swell and compress his organs. He was putting on weight rapidly, even though his limbs were thin. His stomach had become round and hard,  and as the vet explained about the organs becoming compressed, I realised that where I had thought Jonesy was being cute with his 'sighs' recently, it was actually because his lungs were being squashed by the fluid. He was finding it hard to breath properly. How had I missed that? My husband had asked for diuretics to help, and the vet had provided us with them, even though she said in the end it would not help. Very gently the vet explained that we were going to have to make a hard decision soon. Jonesy would become uncomfortable, and it was important for him to have a good quality of life.....therefore we needed to think about having him put to sleep. I was due a week's holiday 3 weeks ahead and I mentioned that. As the vet told me Jonesy would not make it that far, I began to cry. I couldn't help it. I just felt so sad and so angry. It was the beginning of the week....I was due to have the weekend off work. As we came home I knew that I would not wish to be at work the day after Jonesy died. I knew in my heart that the coming weekend would be the right time.  Cuddling Jonesy later, I said very little to the family. What was there to say.

Looking on the internet....don't!

I think we all knew Jonesy was ill, really ill, but deep down we also hoped he would get better. In fact I know it never occurred to me that he would decline so rapidly. Maybe that was for the best, although I certainly don't feel that way right now. Once Jonesy started to have blood in his urine two days after finishing his antibiotics I did look on the internet. I read all about cystitus and how it makes a cat unwell.....yep I knew that.....I also read that if untreated, especially in male cats it could lead to a blockage and cause death within 24 hours. Yep I understood that. Then I scrolled down, like you do, and found out all about kidney failure. Well that was okay because one of the classic signs was weight loss and over the last few days Jonesy has positively got rotund....he was eating well and drinking, going to the loo, and his tummy was looking as plump as a lazy tom cat's should! The vets sent off a blood sample and it came back to show he did have a urine infection but they wanted further tests done....would we pay. Yep we would. Jonesy had an injection to fast track strong antibiotics into his body but it didn't really seem to help. .  Then I went back to the internet and read all about Proteinuria. Jonesy had some of the symptoms although he was putting on weight rather fast around his middle. Back to the vets my husband went, along with Jonesy, while I stayed at work confident the vet would give him more antibiotics. I knew the vet needed to discuss things and when my husband text me to say he would tell me more when I came home from work, I just thought "okay, Jonesy needs an operation...or something". I waited all day. As my husband collected me in the car from work I peeked at his face and kept silent. Half way home I could hold it in no longer. "What did the vet say?". There was a pause and my husband's voice cracked as he quietly said "Jonesy has weeks to live".

Let's get the bad stuff out of the way.......

On October 22nd 2011 at about 4pm in the afternoon Jonesy was put to sleep by the vet. I wanted to type those words and get them out of the way. I actually wanted to put something more dramatic like....'Jonesy was killed by the vet'....or....'Jonesy was given a lethal injection'....or....'Jonesy died'....but it would have shown my anger. That anger is something I didnt know I felt so badly until now. I think it has been bubbling under the surface of my mind for a little while, but I have managed to suppress it. All part of the grieving precess I expect, and I hope I can get it out of my system here rather than blurting it out at some point? Time and time again I realise we just don't talk about death enough in this country.Whether it is the death of a human or an animal it has an effect on a person's life if that 'body' was part of their family...part of their life. Just because it is an animal, a beloved pet, a death should not diminish the feelings of grief.
Anyway, I had to get the calender to check the exact date of Jonesy death, not because I had forgotten, but because I wanted to know. I have counted the weeks and it is only just over 4 weeks ago. I am amazed it is such a short time ago, but also amazed it is so long ago. We are only November. He died in October...last month in fact. I think i am torturing myself by writing that, but as I write it I have smiled. Maybe torturing yourself is part of the grieving process too? Gosh just how far can I go in my analysis of grieving over the death of a pet?
Jonesy had only been really ill for a couple of weeks. At the beginning of the year Jonesy had a urine infection, probably cystitis, and he went on a course of antibiotics. Who knew a cat could get cystitis? Who knew a male cat could get cystitus? Well he recovered, and spent the summer lazying around in the front garden (more on that in a later post) or on the neighbour's recycling box, neatly positioned to catch the afternoon sun. We, (the family) put it down to him being an older cat....a 15 year old male tom cat who had got into scrapes during his life, and was stiffening up and slowing down. All of us expected him to grow older and get fatter and eat lots and sleep lots. After all that's what tom cats do!
Around the beginning of October I came home from work one afternoon, on a half day, and Jonesy used the cat litter tray. He tended to go outside most of the time so I thought he had been 'caught short' and went to check if it needed cleaning out. As I looked closer at the white cat litter crystals I realised the spot when he had urinated was a pink colour. Jonesy seemed fine so I phoned my husband, saying that maybe we should get him checked out as he could have his urine infection back. Jonesy went outside very shortly after and urinated on the grass again, and sure enough when i went and looked the area was pink. Again Jonesy seemed fine and happily ate, drank and snuggled up to me as usual as I sat on the sofa. He also managed to annoy our 2 other cats as per normal, by wanting to sit where they sat or by following them about. Jonesy was 'boss cat' and the 2 girls knew it well. Mind you he often got a swift paw round the head if they managed to get one in before escaping! That evening my husband laid some paper and tissue by the front door. One of the girls, and Jonesy from time to time, seemed to take great delight in urinating by the door instead of using the cat litter. It didn't matter if the cat litter was clean....once they got into the habit it was hard to break. The paper was the lesser of two evils.....having to scrub a carpet was definitely the worst! I will always remember my husband calling me at around 9.30 that evening, to come and look at the paper. The note of controlled panic in his voice made me rush.....Jonesy had urinated on the paper and it was red. It wasn't pink, it was bright scarlet red. My husband rang the vet straight away. Jonesy, meanwhile, trotted off to munch on some food, totally indifferent to our worry. The vet asked some questions...was he eating, was he drinking, did he seem okay......ie, as pet owners you always recognise if your pet is under the weather.....and the answer was yes. Jonesy was eating, drinking, meowing at us for attention as usual. In fact he seemed totally fine except for the lurid red urine. Okay said the vet, bring him in first thing in the morning, but feel free to ring if we were worried about him.
I told work that I had to go to the vets as my cat was ill.......9.20 appointment.....and I am lucky I have an understanding manager. It took maybe 10 minutes. Jonesy had another urine infection. He needed antibiotics. He didn't appear to have any lumps. He seemed fine and had no temperature. In fact he probably had cystitis again. One course of antibiotics later and Jonesy's urine was back to normal colour. For a day or so, at least. Then it came back. I should not have looked on the internet. Don't look on the internet.

You think you know......don't be fooled!

Nothing prepares you for death. At the age of 51 I finally understand that. Everyone thinks they know what it involves, how you will feel, how to cope with your grief, what to do...even I did, until Jonesy became ill. Jonesy was my cat. My wonderful, naughty, demanding,' loving you whatever you said or did', cat! If I am honest, part of me deep inside feels a little guilty that I am going to write a blog all about the death of a pet. Will I feel this bad when my parents die? If I feel this much grief, that even as I type these words my eyes well up with tears so badly that I cannot see the screen for an instant, what will I be like at that moment? Well, let me tell you that I was not ready to decide my cat needed to die, but I also understand that I probably never would have been ready for that decision, ever!
As I take a deep breath I hope that this blog will help me to regain the happy memories that are somewhere in my mind. I know they are there, but I don't think I have reached the stage where they can take me past the deep unhappiness that grabs me when I least expect it. Like now for instance. Do you know what? I just didn't realise how much I loved my cat.