Jake

It's been over 2 years since I had to let Big Jake go. My 22 pound orange chatty cat with a head the size of a softball was part dog, part human (he'd belch and snore with the best guy), but mostly an obnoxious cat. And I loved him. The day I had to put him down, he had been sick for nearly a month and down to 14 pounds, which on him, was emaciated. Many times, mainly when he was "talking" to me in the middle of the night I threatened to shoot him, but I never really meant it. I was a blubbering mess for several weeks afterwards.

But why do I bring this up?

Yesterday I was flying home from a fabulous bit of tropical therapy in Belize (another blog) and the airline had Marley and Me playing. I'd read the book and knew the ending. I remember laughing through the whole book, then actually crying in the end. And this was before I lost Jake.

The movie was good, but not nearly as good as the book. But I knew about the ending. I kept a napkin from my drink back just in case I teared up. What I wasn't expecting was the outright rush of pain as the final scenes were coming up. It got to a point where I couldn't see anymore through the tears and that I thought I'd start sobbing if I continued watching. I unplugged my headphones, grabbed a book, and refused to look at the screen until we were on final approach. I never did see the ending, but know what happened. Just thinking about it kept my eyes wet.

How is it that 22 pounds of fur can still affect me so much several years later? As much of a pain-in-the-ass my boy was, I loved him dearly. I can't believe I still miss him so much.