Joey entered our lives fourteen years ago from a local animal shelter. There were many deserving fur people there that needed homes. We were tempted by several.
Then Joey put his black, furry arms around my neck, snuggled his black, soft face up against mine, purred, looked straight into in my eyes, and told me he was ours. We believed him.
Joey left us two nights ago, and his loss is hard-felt this Mother's Day.
Like his nature, his parting was graceful. He had been tired the day before, and he left his body during his sleep.
His life with us began as Joey, The Evil Kitten. Joey would lurk beneath the kitchen table and wrap those little arms around my leg, and take a chomp out of my ankle. When I would try to pry him off my leg, he would bite fiercely. Fortunately, he was so small this wasn't too painful. Joey outgrew his Evil Ways, or the Basement Cat Heritage of his black, black nature, by the time he was two or so.
When he matured, he became Joe The Magnificent, one of the most beautiful and loving cats I have ever known, and a very handsome and dashing fellow. He also remained a bit of a rascal.
He and the terror of the neighborhood, Tom, The Red Cat, mixed it up, on occasion, throughout the summertime. In our rural neighborhood, their mighty battles were the stuff of legends. For a few nights each summer, the sounds of screams and hisses would fill the night. It would sound as though neither cat would survive the evening's encounter. Of course they always did.
The night before he died, Joey sauntered across the street and lay down to rest beneath our neighbors' woodpile. It took The Red Cat a good forty minutes to realize that his nemesis had had the audacity to lurk on his own territory. Hackles raised, he stiff-footed it towards Joey. Joey didn't move a whisker.
The Red Cat cautiously sniffed up Joey, and came to that understanding animals seem to have. He then walked away and sat on his haunches, a good dozen feet away from Joey. He and Joey sat in a companionable silence for a good couple of hours. It was getting late, so we finally took Joey home.
A very weak Joey quietly refused his supper his last night. Joey was a no muss no fuss sort of guy. Then, during the night, he breathed his last.
His final days had been full of diabetes, then cancer diagnoses. We didn't even have time to treat him for more than a couple of days. This Mother's Day is particularly painful, as the Joe Man used to sleep between my DH and myself, and this was the second morning we awoke without him.
I'm hoping there's a special place at The Bridge for this wonderful guy. We loved him dearly, and his loss hurts.
Joey with Sophie as a baby:
The genius of Joe:
Goodbye, sweet boy. We will always remember you.