Jake is dead.
My beautiful lop-eared, big-headed alley cat died Tues. afternoon from feline leukemia.
It's a nasty disease. There is no cure. There is a vaccination for prevention but I didn't think about it at the time when he got his shots the first time.
I keep seeing Jake out of the corner of my eyes. When I type, he's usually up here with his head on my hand/arm making it difficult to type. This time of morning, he'd be sitting at the window eyeballing the birds. When I get up, he'd shoot off the desktop and race me to the kitchen thinking I am about to feed him. Or if he wasn't on the desk, he's be on the couch all stretched out.
I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eyes.
I felt him jump up on the bed it seemed, but when I reached out, I found only air. I keep thinking he's going to walk in from where he's been napping to go lie down on the dog bed or jump up on the chair he's so fond of getting fur on. I don't hear him trying to sharpen his claws on the furniture. I don't have to yell at him to stop it. I don't have to try and stop him from trying to get out the open door. I wish I did. I wish he was here ignoring me, using me only to feed him, scratch his ears, chin..etc. I wish he was curled up next to me on my pillow waiting for me to fall asleep so that he could go off and do cat things. I wish a lot of things.
He died on Tues.
There was noone to wake me up on Wed afternoon while napping from walking on my tummy. There was no one curled up on my pillow, there no fighting for a certain spot on the bed, there was no warm furry body to reach out and touch when I woke up.
If there is a heaven, I know he's there. If there is any where that good cats go when they run out of lives, I know he's there; ear fixed and not sick.
...but I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eyes.
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