Her long, gangly legs entangled in the stick shift of the red Jeep when I met her. She crawled over the console and into the passenger seat. I had just gotten out of class, high school, senior year. Two months earlier on my birthday my then boyfriend had given me a kitty cat stuffed animal. But what was I going to do with the real thing?
I left her my first year of college with my parents. Again for part of my second year of college. When I left the country to live in London for seven months she lived with my sister. Finally when I moved to Switzerland for the first few months, she flew freight to Virginia, alone. Otherwise she traveled with me. We stayed illicitly in no-pets-allowed hotel rooms, she slept in the tent with me cross country and jumped on me all night, she lived with two other cats at various times, both of whom adored her and whom she hated, and my dog when she was just a kitty. That is where she learned to growl. We had a total of eleven apartments together.
She met all but one of my boyfriends. She loved David right away, but it wasn't always so easy. For some good and some not-so-good reasons, she was labeled a 'psycho-kitty'. Sometimes I should have listened to her opinion about the men I dated, at other times her hatred was unfounded and frustrating.Her love of herbs was immense. Mint especially, and she would find it in any form. Often I found her rubbing incessantly on a backpack, only to discover spearmint gum inside. Catnip was liked, but it made her an angry kitty. And what was up with her love of celery? No blush brush was safe around her. More than once I had an angry sister. A visitors' zipped purse wasn't safe from Jasper. The challenge only made it more fun. She played fetch and tag. I got sliced several times by her 'sneaking' up on me. I have scars to prove it.
She died at 7 in the morning on January 21. She said her last meep right after my alarm went off. I pet her once and fell back asleep. Half an hour later she was gone.
When I brought her to the police station, I could hardly talk. The policeman heard only bits of what I said and asked, "Who has died?" with a stricken look on his face. "Meine Katze, meine Katze," I replied and with that he relaxed.
Well timed, Jasper. She really liked being the baby. The upcoming March birth mighta hurt her pride.
2 comments:
Those of us who knew Jasper will miss her.
I remember games of fetch using fat rubber bands, the kinds you get from bunches of broccoli -- she liked those. Why? Who knows?? In the midst of a game, she would turn away from the rubber band--conjuring up images of something more palatable and playful?--then pounce with fresh enthusiasm for the elastic strap. Thanks for tolerating my attempts at companionship, Jasper. Will miss you.
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