This is the story of a cat named Jeeves. He didn't belong to us. We belonged to him.
For the first time in sixteen years, Jeeves is no longer with us. Yesterday he died of renal failure after a long battle. He was a gentle fighter and loved his life. He fought for it. We did, too.
Jeeves was a farm kitten, and he came to us at eleven weeks, thanks to good friends. He was a grey and white fur ball of fun and affection. It was immediate love when we saw him, and through the years, he was loved by all who met him. Never one to bite, scratch or hiss, he was a gentle soul, always.
Jeeves was a "cat" burglar. He was able to open any cabinet and, when he became bored, he would do just that. The first time he burgled his own home, we walked in and thought someone had really been there. He never knew a cabinet he could not open.
Jeeves was a master locksmith. He was able to open cat proof cages at the vet's or when being boarded. As the staff would not ever believe us, he always (one time only at each place) was able to work open the lock with his paw and disappear into the room. Funnily enough, he was found every time in the middle of the dry cat food stacks!
A very social cat, Jeeves loved nothing better than a dinner party. He always greeted people during drinks. He sensitively waited until most diners were finished before he slipped around chairs, rubbed legs and generally said hello again.
When everyone had retired to another room, he sat in the middle of the staircase, waiting for someone to tell him hello and, if he were really fortunate, get a pat.
All of this to say, we loved him. We miss him and will continue to do so. Jeeves was such an integral part of our family, part of the fabric itself. Those of you who have been through this trauma (and I know there are many of you, dear readers), understand my need to share Jeeves with you.
This post is my tribute to him, to his loyalty, to his life. Goodbye, dear Jeeves. We will never forget you.
For the first time in sixteen years, Jeeves is no longer with us. Yesterday he died of renal failure after a long battle. He was a gentle fighter and loved his life. He fought for it. We did, too. Jeeves was a farm kitten, and he came to us at eleven weeks, thanks to good friends. He was a grey and white fur ball of fun and affection. It was immediate love when we saw him, and through the years, he was loved by all who met him. Never one to bite, scratch or hiss, he was a gentle soul, always.
Jeeves was a "cat" burglar. He was able to open any cabinet and, when he became bored, he would do just that. The first time he burgled his own home, we walked in and thought someone had really been there. He never knew a cabinet he could not open.Jeeves was a master locksmith. He was able to open cat proof cages at the vet's or when being boarded. As the staff would not ever believe us, he always (one time only at each place) was able to work open the lock with his paw and disappear into the room. Funnily enough, he was found every time in the middle of the dry cat food stacks!
A very social cat, Jeeves loved nothing better than a dinner party. He always greeted people during drinks. He sensitively waited until most diners were finished before he slipped around chairs, rubbed legs and generally said hello again.When everyone had retired to another room, he sat in the middle of the staircase, waiting for someone to tell him hello and, if he were really fortunate, get a pat.
All of this to say, we loved him. We miss him and will continue to do so. Jeeves was such an integral part of our family, part of the fabric itself. Those of you who have been through this trauma (and I know there are many of you, dear readers), understand my need to share Jeeves with you.
This post is my tribute to him, to his loyalty, to his life. Goodbye, dear Jeeves. We will never forget you.
