Pleh

Yesterday was a beautiful day. Well, except for the fact that we found Jake dead. This was a complete surprise. He wasn’t sick — as far as we knew — and he wasn’t that old; he would have turned ten this Thursday (6/2). We found him laying on his back, belly up, in his “Come pet my belly” position. Everything looked perfectly normal, except for the part about him not breathing. I have no idea what happened, but I hope it was quick.

Aside from the sadness and shock of losing him so quickly and unexpectedly, this was probably the best way for him to go. At least it was from our perspective and hopefully from his too. There was no long, drawn out sickness or age-related deterioration. There were no “Should we have him put down?” or “How much are we willing to pay?”-type questions. There was no guilt like we felt when Kismet died. At least, the guilt was nowhere near that magnatude. I think we both feel a bit guilty about not being able to remember the last time we saw him alive and the fact that, because we had been running about a lot the past couple of days, he might have died Saturday or even Friday and we just didn’t notice.

I’m sad, sure, but he was a good boy. He was very well loved and he seemed to be a wonderfully happy cat. I will miss his thundering purr and enthusiastic friendliness. I hope his (biological) sister, Colette, will be okay with being an only cat for the first time in her almost-ten years.

Here’s to you, Bubba. We’re going to miss you terribly.