The thing with inevitability is that no matter how many wishes upon a star, you cannot stop what is meant to be and I now find myself, a born writer, in stunned silence with no words to adequately convey both the crushing loss, yet the sobering relief of letting my beloved Ragdoll cat, Mr. Jazz (aka Jazz), finally pass to his place on the Rainbow Bridge.
On the surface you might not have even known it, but upon closer inspection, every nook and cranny looked like a cat infirmary at my house. Pill bottles, syringes, pee pads, disinfecting wash, special cat foods, pain medication, blankets in every corner, and more. But, the fact is, after a litany of blood tests, x-rays and endless examinations with no conclusive evidence in sight, and despite the mountains of cat paraphernalia dedicated to prolonging the life of my beautiful 15 year old boy, he was dying.
I, of course, did not immediately know this and made it my mission, along with my fiancé Dan, as if somehow our love and perseverance could will him back to his original healthy body weight and his younger days of life. Everything you could imagine -- regular injections of fluids in his body, pills to stimulate his appetite, and, of course, our desperate and obsessive efforts to find something to entice him to eat such as baby food, chicken broth, liver, cheese, specialty cat milks, turkey breast, tuna, and every and any brand of cat food on the market. He wanted none of it, to the point he was losing weight at such alarming levels that we were forced to bring him back to the vet to be taught how to force feed him with a syringe to bulk up his weight.