Jon-Jon's Peace

The cat sat silently in the window sill, watching as she got into the yellow car. A stranger was putting boxes into the back of it, then slammed the door closed. He could see she was waving and gave a slight purr as he remembered her gentle pat of a few moments before.

"Be good, hmmm?" She rubbed his cheek with her fingers, then rested her head against his warm fur before she grabbed a box and went outside. His skin prickled where she ruffled his coat, but he didn't mind. Her voice floated through his dreams as his eyes closed and he continued to occupy the sunlit sill.

* * * *

The orange and white tabby-cat softly padded his way around the upper level hallway and headed into the master bedroom. He looked toward his favorite sleeping spot, saw it was already occupied, and gave an irritated twitch of his tail. He sniffed the air and gave a soft whuff! as he sneezed the musty smell from his sensitive nose.

The fan was on in the corner, moving the dust motes about the room and into the corners to be played and toyed with later. The cat continued on his prowl around the room, sniffing at partially closed boxes, sometimes rubbing along the side to leave his scent, sometimes not even glancing toward the cardboard as he passed it by.

Once in a while he would smell her scent. A little bit stronger on a particular piece of clothing or something, but mostly her scent was disappearing from the house. The cat sat back on his haunches, pretended to clean his face, and covertly glanced back to his sleeping spot. He let out a sigh, then continued out the door and into the hallway once again, this time heading down the stairwell and around through the kitchen.

The food bowl was empty. It had never been allowed to be empty when she had been here. More and more it seemed things were changing in the house. Her habits coincided with his own and the cat remembered the late evenings, curled up in her lap, purring while she mindlessly rubbed his fur and read a book, feet propped up and the tv box turned off. Now, when he wanted a good rub, the cat would look for the man. He never rubbed fur quite the right way, but he was better than nothing. And the man talked too loud. He would say things to the cat, "Jon-Jon, snood lick fo elka albat delin all fiel terp ken, eh Jon-Jon?" Of course, Jon-Jon didn't really listen to loud man talk, it didn't make sense, but he did like to hear his name, Jon-Jon, because she had given it to him.

Jon-Jon jumped up in her favorite chair, sniffed, then jumped back down. Not here. Her scent was missing completely. The tabby sauntered toward the library where the big parrot was sleeping. Sometimes, during the day, the bird would make a sound like her and the cat would sharply turn his ears toward the parrot, listening. His fur would rise, and his tail would roll up and down, up and down, counting the seconds until he would see her or hear her, but she hadn't come in such a long while the cat began to wonder if she was gone forever.

He stood at the doorway to the library sniffing the entryway and remembered a day not too long ago. The carpet hadn't been installed yet and there had been a mouse in here. Jon-Jon had played with the mouse and it had been excitingly fun. His eyes had been sharp, his ears alert, it had been fascinating to keep it under his paws, smelling and playing with it, but the loud man had taken it away, stopping the fun. He dropped his nose to the floor but only scented the glue of the new carpet which had been recently laid.

It was a good room to be in during the afternoon when the sun shone in through the window. He liked to lay in the warmth and enjoyed watching the bird in her cage. He licked his whiskers, then yawned and backed out of the room.

Jon-Jon silently turned and went into the foyer, not liking the new tile that was so cold against his paws. He let out a mournful meow, calling out to her, but all he heard was his own yowl echoing faintly into the darkness. Jon-Jon pushed himself into a run, and only slowed as he entered the sitting room, her room. The quiet room.

There were no ringing phones or radios or tv boxes in here. There were some lovely warm cozy spots, though, and none of the young boys or the loud man ever came in here. There was nothing of interest in this room for them. Only balls of yarn and books; lots of books that she would read and put away and bring back down to enjoy throughout the year. Her candles were dotted here and there around the room and the potpourri had long lost its fruity smell. Even the plates displayed around the room had a fine coat of dust on them, giving the room an unused feeling.

He paused as he spied the lovely fuzzy afghan on the couch nearest the fire place, then jumped up into its warmth. She made this for him the last time the cold white stuff had fallen from the sky and had wrapped him up in it like a cocoon. At first he had struggled to get out of it, but calmed when her soothing words comforted him, convinced him he would be safe and warm, not restricted. Jon-Jon stayed in that cozy wrap the whole afternoon, sleeping. The cat looked towards the cold fireplace, wondering if she would be back to light it the next time it rained.

Jon-Jon curled up tight on the afghan, sniffed deeply, then let his eyes close, dreaming of her gentle pat, soft voice, and comforting smell. He missed her, and opened his eyes briefly, glancing left and right, then closed his eyes again. His tail gracefully tucked around his body, and within minutes, was asleep.

* * * *

As she jumped out of the taxi, she smiled at her husband and three boys. She had been gone for so long, work required her to go across the country or lose her position, but she was home now and the two months seemed like a year.

She missed her family and friends, her bed and she missed her Jon-Jon. As she went through the front door, the boys headed off to their rooms and her husband leaned down to give her a soft kiss, then took her suitcases upstairs to the bedroom.

She went into her sitting room and saw Jon-Jon sleeping peacefully on his blanket and smiled to herself. Cats were so lucky, she thought, they never got lonely or had to miss their families and go away to work. She gently rubbed his nose and smiled as sleepy green eyes looked into her own. One blink and a quick head shake cleared his vision.

Jon-Jon's low purr rumbled to life as he felt her hand smooth his coat, tingling the all the way down to the tip of his tail. "Hello, baby, how's my guy?" She lifted him up, still wrapped in the afghan, and gave him a cuddle.

She could swear he smiled.

*End*

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Jon-Jon was a very sweet cat from the moment I found him. He had been dumped into a trashbag with two other kittens and tossed out like so much garbage. I had just dropped a patient off at an apartment complex and heard what sounded like a baby crying and went to investigate.

Heart pounding and filled with dread, I opened that trash bag and gagged. Two very dead kittens and one barely alive orange tabby and thank God, no baby. I picked up the little guy and he wasn't even as big as my palm, in fact, he fit in my Tuperware bowl that my lunch had occupied earlier in the day.

I fed him a small amount of water from the bottle cap and then gave him pieces of chicken left over from my meal. He stayed in that bowl all day as if it were his own private nest while I picked-up and dropped off dialysis patients. When he meowed I would give him another capfull of water or a tiny piece of chicken but otherwise he stayed put.

When I got home that night and showed him to the hubby and kids there was no question about his becoming part of the family. A quick trip to the vet, a series of shots later and Jon-Jon was one of us.

As he got older, he would follow me around the house, sit on the sink begging me to get out of the shower, help me feed the fish in the aquarium and he'd always be waiting for me at the front door when I got home from work. I was his human, he was part of my soul.

He was a very vocal kitty, meowing for his favorite toy or treat, vocalizing when he thought the T.V. on too loud or on the wrong channel and even if he thought it was time for bed and I wasn't heading that way-he'd let me know about it.

Nearing the end of his very long life, I got a new job which took me away from home for a few months time and he was not very happy about it. I would call and talk to him on speakerphone just to get him to eat his meals for my husband. I'm glad that didn't happen often.

One day I noticed that Jon-Jon wasn't as talkative as usual and that he was not eating with his normal gusto so I trotted him off to the vet. When we got there and the vet took him into the back, I was told my little guy had a tumor in his throat and that it was spreading into his jaw.

There were no options for treatment, I wanted only the best for Jon-Jon, but because of his age and the type of tumor he had, the vet reccommended he be put to sleep. I couldn't imagine going home without part of my soul, but I didn't want to be selfish either.

This type of cancer hits very quickly, is very painful and Jon-Jon would have been losing teeth, fur and his organs would have shut down within a week's time. So I did the right thing for him, said goodbye for the last time and held him in his favorite blanket until he was gone.

I still cry for my very special friend all these years later.