Green eyed memoirs

When I was six years old my Granny and Grandpa got a cat called Jasper. As a pet-less child at the time, this was a big deal to me and I fell in love with him pretty instantly. My brother and I would spend hours upon hours for so many years squealing with delight as we rolled marbles across the floor for him to chase and we would shout at my Dad whenever he picked him up because we were convinced Jasper didn't like it - as if he was our younger brother being bullied in the playground by a bigger kid.

Jasper had a fantastic intuition for human identity and emotion. I suppose any animal lover or pet owner will claim that of their furry friend, but it's true. Jasper knew when people were arriving and leaving and he remembered them from their last visit. Jasper knew when you were relaxed and he knew when you were busy...and would interrupt you regardless.  Jasper was beautiful, funny, clever and greedy all at the same time and had a permanent throne in my heart. When I was 14 I did an art project on him for a whole term, and to this day I still have a huge folder full of these sketches and paintings in my bedroom at home. I have truly never met an animal with more of a vibrant personality.
When I was about 10 years old I developed an allergy to cats. Whenever I'm near them now I begin to sneeze continually, almost without pause for breath, get a chesty cough and my eyes water. And yet, I still love cats. I love cats wholeheartedly and unconditionally.

Unconditionally - that's a word that I learnt from Jasper. When we met I had no allergic reactions to the feline world; they all appeared after I'd grown to become very fond of him. But for 10 years more, 'in sickness and in health' as they say, I would pick him up, hold him and play with him regardless of consequence. (There would always with a box of  tissues and Piriton allergy tablets nearby.)

Yesterday I was told that Jasper had been put down. I'm heartbroken and hurt in a way that is new and raw and tender to me. But my comfort in the news is that we did say goodbye. Animals drop hints when they're leaving. The last few times I saw him I could feel his spine a little more and it was clear that he was an old man now. When I last left him in summer, I picked him up and held him tighter than normal and my Mum said 'Rosemary don't be silly, don't make yourself ill' and I said 'I'm not being silly, this might be the last time I see him', and it was. I think Jasper knew it too because he didn't squirm and he waited at the door as we left.

I feel silly pouring so much emotion onto a page for a cat I saw 3 times a year. But that was 3 times a year for my entire childhood. All Christmas and birthday cards for the last 13 years have been signed from him and any phone calls to my grandparents included updates about Jasper. He's left a hole bigger than I'm willing to let adulthood fill.

But I like to think he's residing somewhere lovely now - somewhere warm, with children to play with and strategically placed meat scraps to snack on.

And with that thought, I end this post. Sorry it was sad and sorry if it seemed unwarrantedly so, but one of my first ever friends just died.

Ro is listening to: She's Got You High by Mumm-Ra