(no subject)
On November the 10th, Jazzmine died. I really need to type this out, because I don't think it's hit yet. For those of you who don't know, Jazzmine is my cat. She has lived with my dad for most of her life, when we found her eleven years ago outside his window on a bicycle seat covered in cobwebs. She belonged to the young people next door, and even though I wanted to keep her we couldn't, because they wanted her back. However, she kept coming over to dad's place because they would constantly have parties and really... she wasn't very welcome. In the end, they asked us and a scary old woman from next door to decide if we wanted to keep her. Dad wasn't too sure, but I managed to convince him.
In The Pad, which is where she lived for the beginning, is where she also gave birth to her litter. I happened to be staying the night that happened, and she came up onto my bed to have them. First baby born and she tried to drag it under my sheets so it could sleep beside me - didn't want to crush it, of course, so we transferred her and the kittens to her basket. I remember one time I was there and across the field of the witch next door there was this large black tomcat, and Jazzmine saw him and bounded over to him with her tail right up in the air and the kids close behind, and kissed him on the cheek and it was one of the most romantic things I've ever seen.
I remember we kept one of her kids, who we named Daffodil, because all the girls of this cat generation would be named after flowers, (though Jazz was mixed with the type of music.) Dad had to move because they put the rent up at The Pad, and he ended up living with his friend called Jenny. She wasn't too keen on the cats, but we kept them anyway. Jazz soon became a grandparent, and Daffodil gave birth to two black kittens and one grey and one tortorshell. The tortoshell was my favourite, I named him Balto after the wolf, and he and Sally bonded, and he took so much care of his grey sister, especially when we gave her away but had to take her back because the people had dogs, and when we got her home she was shaking and we set her in her basket and Balto came and literally put his arm over her shoulders and kept her close. I have a photo of Sally licking his head, just to show how little scared he was of a big mean dog like her. Around this time Jazz started to feel a little left out, because the kittens got all the attention and she was big ole' grandma now. In the end, however, Daffodil, Balto and the others had to be given to this woman in Woy Woy who would make sure they would all get good homes.
We'd never give up Jazz. Dad then moved to the property in Wentworth Falls, and this has got to be some of the best days of Jazz's life. She was still young and the place was so big and so wild she could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She would disappear for nights and days and then come back with a big rat or something to show off. But then I moved to Manly, and I didn't see her as much. Then dad left for Umina, and she was starting to get old and didn't want to go for walks because there were too many dogs around and she's always been pretty skittish. I saw her whenever I went up to dad's, but during these last couple of years that hasn't been much, because I've been busy growing up and trying to get through school and dramas with friends.
I can't remember the last time I actually saw her. But I know it was alright; I know she was a bit pissy at me for not visiting more often, and for leaving again, but she cuddled up with me when we slept so that was good.
About two weeks before the 10th I started having nightmares that she died. I was so upset because I wanted to see her before she went, but it looks like I'm still too late. She had a little cough for ages and the vet said it was asthma, but it never went away and dad suspected heart worm, which is pretty uncommon in cats. So on the 10th she had slowed down so much that when dad saw her, her eyes just flashed and she fell over. And it was sunny and clear and he wrapped her in the jacket that she cuddled on when she was tiny and put her in her basket, and she was still warm and her eyes were open and then with a massive clap of thunder it started raining for five minutes straight, and then stopped and it was sunny again. She was warm that whole night and in the morning cold and her eyes had shut, and dad buried her beneath a 'villia tree with the jacket and her bowels and Sally was licking his face at the funeral and for nights after slept where Jazz used to.
And I just keep thinking that I never got to see her 'one last time' and I've got this picture here and I'll never be able to touch her little nose again because I loved touching it because it was so cold and wet or the little pads on her feet because they were so weird and rough, or annoy her until she skits of with a 'prrt' or pet her or cuddle her or cling to her or see her have more babies or run around or sleep or purr like a little firetruck because holy shit when she purred she purred hard. And I feel guilty because I haven't seen her and I should have and it's my fault I didn't see her, but I suppose now she's in a 'better place' as they say and I just hope she doesn't hate me for never getting to say goodbye. In the times of Salem Witches, black cats would be killed; but if they had little white flecks like Jazzmine did, they were spared, and considered lucky.
Dad dreamed she was reborn as a little Mexican girl, and I think I want to believe that.