It is with utmost sadness that we inform you, our Jakita has taken her Pink Cloud to Pupperazi Paradise, today, May 12, 2021, having submitted to a rapid onset, deadly form of IMHA (which was diagnosed when she was only 18 months old). We will always remember her loyalty, kindness, willingness to share with all the other Four Legged Friends we forced upon her.
Maybe Jakita was just a tad assertive but she had a load of cats to control, who jumped on counters, the kitchen table and gleefully caused mayhem, with Cheshire Cat grins and manipulation skills.
Diva Calico Gen
Sweet
Jakita leaves behind her dear sweet Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte (aka Charlie) and our Wild Child, Diva Calico Gen, who believes she is still a kitten….and acts out accordingly.
We are family….
However, there will be celebrations in Pet Heaven as Jakita reunites with our Bad Boy Andy Cat, her Protector, Beau Regard Cat, as well as Cat Mandu, Mao Cat and the late show Stray cats, Casey, Clem and the Caterwauling, Combative BB Cat that she never understood but abided out of good manners.
Now I lay me…
You will be long remembered and sorrowfully missed by those you left behind… if our tears were diamonds, you would make us rich….as rich as Elon Musk…to Mars and back… (well, hopefully)….
You fought all those years, Jakita Reb, Jakita Reb You fought all those years, Jakita Reb…. (Paraphrase Johnny Horton)
Your Baby Cousin JAG, who would become your life long ally and collaborator was born today to my Sister-Who-Taught-Me-Most-of-the-Things-I-know. Your silly Daddy-To-Be was pea green with enough envy to choke him, while I was happy, happy, happy. It had to bode well for us, I reasoned, for no apparent reason.
October 6
The monthly curse arrives with a vengeance, dashing my fledgling optimism that heralded Cousin JAG’s arrival. No worries, I am booked to have a D&C in about six weeks time, so my state of fertility can be ascertained. I just know you are out there somewhere.
October 25
Early that Sunday morning, when the clocks fell back an hour, giving us another hour to kill before your Daddy-To-Be went out for coffee and donuts, you were conceived. I remember that day well because I actually did all the tricks the doctors advise (lingering in bed, legs elevated so sperm meets egg –I know, I know, too much information) before taking off like a whirling dervish, in order to get the list of things done, that keep me wake at night. I also remember some further trivia, I took a walk, across the street to the shopping mall, for therapeutic reasons only since no stores were open (before Sunday (gasp!) shopping). The weather was mild, though overcast with foggy patches. Little did we know what all that day would bring.
It was the day that our family unit expanded and then expanded some more, when the 2nd letter I wrote to the Toronto Star was printed. The family hiding your cousin, The Pretty Little Dutch Girl (Dad’s brother’s daughter) had a pique of conscience (or were they tired of feeding her, hiding her, worrying about her), so they contacted us. Arrangements were made that your Daddy would go to her friend’s house when The Pretty Little Dutch Girl was out, await her return and confront her. Bottom line, she came home with your Daddy and that is how you have a Big Cousin cum Sister all wrapped into one.
October 27
You are cozily ensconced in there but we don’t suspect a thing, as we go to meet up with The Pretty Little Dutch Girl’s Guidance???? Counsellor. “She is so smart”, Mrs. Warneck says (aka Mrs. No Neck – it appears her head has been plopped on her shoulders because she has no visible neck) ,”but how do we get her to come to school?” Ah, a rhetorical question that plagued us for both her, then you. I know, I know, Wonder Boy, you get bored easily, especially if you know more than the teacher.
October 31
It was your first (so to speak) Halloween – a cool, crisp, clear night with lots of star and star wars! Whatever happened to being a witch, with a pointed hat and crooked nose? Those days your Uncle was still married to a lovely lady who shared my sense of humor, even if I was a Mangiacake. We went to their home that night – your Dad and uncle were to hand out treats while the ladies took out your cousins Trick or Treating. And so I decided to play a funny on the guys. I put on a mask, got on my knees and rang the bell. (I still remember, I had on a pair of tight jeans that made it very tricky – I am so glad I don’t do “tight” anymore), When the guys opened the door, I said, “Trick or Treat” in a little girl voice – of course they did not recognize me – we laughed so hard, I thought I’d pee myself – sorry if I jostled you up a bit but I did not suspect your existence, I swear.
Did you hear the news? What news? Betsy’s dead. Poor Betsy….Who??? You know…Betsy, down the street.
Friends From: Morguefile By: Taliesin
I remember them when they were such a vibrant couple in our neighboruhood. Every time I was walking Puppy Jakita, I passed their home and Bob was always outside….perfecting the lawn in the summer, spring and fall… tweaking dead flower petals, cutting the lawn…I swore he got on his hand and knees, and with a pair of scissors, cut the lawn…because each blade was the same exact length… and that grass was such a shade of vibrant green.
In the winter, Bob would be out there too, blowing snow…then using different shovels to sculpt the snow to perfection on the path to their front steps as well as on their two driveways….one for Betsy’s car and one for Bob’s…same model…same year…same colour. Yes, they had a garage… but what if some oil leaked… No the garage was Bob’s Man Den…he wasn’t sharing it with a car… Still, he was so friendly like…taking time to lean on his shovel and have a chat…pat Jakita…golly, he would even chat up the homeless, that wandered up and down our streets to get to the Food Bank, at the big church on the corner…and not everyone is kind to them…you know…
Life in the country
Meanwhile, Betsy was in their home….so perfect…just a scrubbing and a polishing, vacuuming…not a cobweb or a spec of dirt in their home. I called her Martha Stewart…to her face…behind her back…I even got a stepping stone to put in my garden that said…’not Martha’s garden’……No siree! She would be busy in her head planning the next family get together, jotting down what she had to pick up at various stores and mapping the route to ensure she went the most cost effective way so as not to waste gas…do you believe how much it costs these days? One can hardly afford a car these days …and the insurance premiums we have to pay…don’t get me started…as Betsy would say…
And not only her home sparkled and shone…so did Betsy. She would never leave her house without her clothes, hair and makeup absolutely perfect…not like me…sometimes I look like a model on the runway…sometimes I look like that bag lady I see in the donut shop across the way. And let’s talk about her hair…always same length, same style, same colour…with a little help from her friends, I’m thinking… obviously…Bob’s hair also always looks same length, impeccably styled with just a hint of a few grey strands. They were a gorgeous couple.
Yup, that is Momma’s wedding….
Still, even they had their troubles over the years…like sudden family deaths, a granddaughter with brittle diabetes, Betsy fighting cancer…and then all those home invasions. Unfortunately for Betsy and Bob their house was positioned in such a fashion, that neighbor hood watch couldn’t see any door or windows that the burglars utilized to gain entry. I told them…I did …put a sign up warning any home invaders all the valuables had already been stolen…the expensive jewelry, electronics, small appliances (well, you know, home invaders can’t just walk out the front door with a state of art refrigerator and not be seen…if they tried to walk it up the street, we nosy neighbours would ask…where you taking Bob and Betsy’s fridge).
Then the real troubles began. We all have were trying to find something, walk into the next room…and say darnation…what did I come in here for? Still this was way worse. First it was little, easy to explain, lapses of memory, confusion over what he was doing, where he was going… which evolved to Betsy entering the kitchen, and say…hey Bob…and he would look at her and say…who are you again?
Sometimes Betsy would wake up in the night and find Bob missing from there bed. The first time she was frantic…then it became routine. She’d find him sitting on the front steps in his pajamas and slippers…in the brutal winter… his homeless friends were sitting there with him…high on crack…(Not Bob), passing a beer around…friendly like. Yes, they used the food food bank but had money for crack and beer…. Funny that…Betsy had no way out…She had to tell her adult children…and that discussion about ‘what to do with Father’ had to be hammered out.
Then, overnight it seemed, Bob became physically ill and was taken to the hospital by ambulance …and he never returned, no, he never returned…never to cut his lawn or shovel his snow again…whatever all it was, it went stunningly fast and next thing you know we were all comforting Betsy and attending Bob’s funeral….and now you tell me… ten months later…Betsy is dead. What happened??
Those were the days….
What happened…the stress of the last few years…having to be a 24/7 caretaker…well, her cancer returned, aggressive and unrelenting, and Betsy chose…no treatment…been there…done that…given the T-Shirt at the Cancer Walkathon to raise funds to help heal other patients. Betsy went out with style and grace, not losing a strand of her perfectly coiffured hair… Betsy did it her way….
We miss you Bob.We miss you Betsy…They don’t make them like they used to anymore.
