Remembering Jasper

My cat Jasper died last month. I've lost dear friends and loved ones over the years, but this has been one of the hardest. I cannot put into the words the size of the chasm his absence has left in my life. When you hear of people's pets dying it elicits genuine sadness and compassion, but unless you had a connection to the animal it's abstract and removed. In an effort to properly remember my dear friend for the last 12 years I thought I would share a few stories that were just a small part of my connection to him.

Jasper

As much of an adventurer and companion as Molly Dog is, I've always been a cat person at heart. Maybe it's because I'm half British. My tough side is not the least bit threatened by sharing my emotional connection to my cat, a quality that seems lost in the American Psyche. I keep this blog up for me more than anyone else, if it's a bit long winded - so be it.

Jasper started his life in Richmond, CA, an industrial lower class area of the San Francisco Bay Area. As a kitten he was rescued along with his sister Jasmine by Second Chance Cat Rescue. My girlfriend at the time and I moved to California and shortly after decided to adopt two cats. The original plan was for me to adopt Jasper and her to adopt Jasmine. The day before we were going to take them home an orange tabby came in with a piece of pipe stuck around his neck. They said he was too feral to adopt, but within twenty minutes he was stuck to me like glue. We left that night with Rusty and Jasper.

Rusty When He Was Rescued

(that's a pipe stuck on his neck, not a collar)

Jasper & Rusty at Home

Jasper was one of the most unique cats I've ever met. He was timid and shy with strangers, but incredibly affectionate and loving with people he knew. He didn't share many cat-like qualities with Rusty. He never dragged decapitated rabbits into the house. He was endearingly clumsy and would often fall off of things or misjudge his trajectory and blow his landings. He also was unobtrusive and would not lay down in the middle of what ever project I had going on be it folding laundry or building RC helicopters. I would always find him laying in odd places and positions with his ears folded hilariously back. In fact he was the only animal out of all of them that I can never recall being annoyed or frustrated with.

Uninhibited Relaxation

I lived with a roommate for a while who had two kids. One of his kids had a speech impediment and couldn't pronounce "er"; instead he would pronounce that part of the word "a". He would come running in the house and yell "Jaspa". Jasper who was always laying somewhere would raise his head, point his ears forward, and plan his escape. From then on if I yelled "Jaspa" he would shutter and ease his way into a safe hiding spot. That house had a fireplace. Both of the cats were still less than a year old and very playful. One day I came home to find two black cats that looked like strangers. They were covered in ash. They had scaled the inside of the chimney and left tiny paw prints on everything. After spending hours cleaning the house they both got full submersions and shampooings. Jasper begrudgingly submitted to his bath and scrubbing without a fuss, while Rusty was not so graceful.

Jasper in His Youth

Both of Us in Our Youth

After a while we moved to Utah where we lived in a friend's basement. One night I left the window open and Jasper got out. I spent hours looking for him, but couldn't find him anywhere. At night he would get brave and explore, but he never went far. I used to call him Jasper of the Night. At 5:00am I heard his distinctive howling through the still open window. He had managed to climb the tallest pine tree in the neighborhood. When I hopped my neighbor's fence I was happily greeted by the reason he was in the tree - a deaf and blind dog that must have been 20 years old. It hobbled over to me and greeted me with friendly panting, I don't think it could bark. The old dog wouldn't have hurt a fly, but Jasper was so scared he climbed way up in the pine tree and started howling. It was ridiculous. With slapstick hilarity, the closer I got the taller he climbed until we both were near the very top of the tree. The tree trunk was starting to bend over from my weight and I needed both hands to climb down. I went back home and grabbed a small duffel bag and a climbing rope. Then I climbed back up to the very top of the tree, stuffed Jasper in the bag, and lowered him down. The def, blind dog gently sniffed the bag and we all left as friends.

The Pine Tree

When my girlfriend and I broke up I took Jasper, Rusty, and Molly. We all moved to Colorado and eventually in with Jo. Once we were settled in I installed a 40lb, magnetically sealed dog door so we wouldn't have to let the dogs out. One night Jo and I were watching TV when we heard a pounding against the dog door. Jasper had been studying the dogs and realized how the door worked. He wasn't strong enough to open it, but he discovered that if he leaned all of his considerable girth against the magnet he could break the seal and fall through. It was pretty funny to be in the living room and hear a crash followed by a rolling ball of grey fur erupting through the dog door.

Negotiating the Dog Door

I always thought Rusty was the instigator of the two (he usually was). A couple winters ago I had knee surgery and was laid up on the couch. It was 3:00am and I was half awake. Jasper had perched himself on top of a chair across the living room. I thought he was just chilling until Rusty walked into the room casually minding his own business. Jasper leapt into the air like a flying squirrel completely ambushing Rusty. His un-cat-like lack of agility let him down and he missed crashing into the couch. Rusty was more confused by the train wreck around him than ambushed. He pressed on minding his own business while Jasper retreated to the couch. I laughed so hard it made my healing knee hurt.

Antics with Rusty

Watching Planet Earth

(it was his favorite show)

Taking Advantage of my Down Jacket

Jasper was with me through the hardest times of my life. The ending of relationships, the death of my father, countless moves, and many sleepless nights. Every night he would build a little nest and curl up next to my pillow. His gentle demeanor and genuine affection would ease what ever turmoil I had going on at the time. He possessed an energy that set him apart from the other animals. He gave me an understanding of how it is possible for service animals to ease PTSD for war veterans. He had a selfless, tender nature that soaked up the wrongs of my world. I used to joke that if all the animals were hanging from a cliff by their paws I would run across all of them to get to Jasper. Of course that is an asinine thing to say, but he was truly special.

Having a Nap with Jo

Soaking Up a Back Rub

He Never Hogged the Dog Bed

Always Leaving Room for Molly

Unlike His Brother

In 2009 Jasper developed a tumor in his jaw, no doubt from his youth in carcinogen heavy Richmond, CA. We were told that he would only live about six months. We put him on a natural antioxidant supplement regiment and amazingly the tumor went away. This spring I noticed another tumor in his neck. It was imbedded in an area that would make removing it impractical. We put him on another antioxidant regiment, but the cancer was too strong. Slowly the tumor grew and became more intrusive. Jo and I braced for the inevitable and enjoyed the time we had left with him. I would set my alarm 20 minutes early so Jasper and I could take in his last mornings. Too weak to open the dog door he would sit in the window looking out at the world. As the cancer grew, he lost weight and energy, but he never lost the things that made him special. He was always gentle and loving right up to the end.

Taking in his Last Mornings

Our gauge for when to put him down was when he stopped eating. That turned out to be a flawed measure as Jasper's appetite was much stronger than his cancer. What can I say, the man loved his food. On June 26 he passed. He died alone, but at home. It was more painful and traumatic than we had planned on, but at least he wasn't suffering anymore. We both struggle with our regrets, but death isn't always a graceful thing. The house has not been the same since. He brought a richness to our lives that cannot be replaced. The weight of my grieving is second only to the loss of my Dad. Nothing I can say will bring him back, but mourning his loss is a good sorrow. That I'm so affected is a measure of his goodness and telling his story fills me with gratitude of the years we were able to share.

In the end, I just really miss my cat...