A Cat Named Jazzy
When God Picks Out Your Pet :)
So, I’m betting most of us have loved and lost a pet or two…maybe more! We writers have to process through our writing, so here comes a post dedicated to Jazzy the Cat, with whom we had 13 fun years…and don’t forget your weekly worship song at the end! Thanks for reading.
B.J. (Before Jazzy)
Peering out the window, I noticed my nine-year-old daughter crouching in the June grass. The neighborhood stray, a black and white “tuxedo” cat named Truffles, kept showing up at our house for attention. Naturally, Christa befriended it and begged us to keep it. Dragging my feet, I realized it was a losing battle. Dozens of dead mice offerings later, I knew we now possessed a cat.
Unfortunately, Truffles, an incredible hunter of mice, birds, and chipmunks, lasted only a year. Truffles left one day, never to return, devastating my daughter. So, we agreed to take an orange tabby kitten born in one of my friend’s homes, as long as he stayed indoors. Cinnamon came home in my daughter’s arms in the back of our minivan, a blissful expression on her face.
But even Cinnamon wasn’t slated to last. Cinnamon missed his siblings and became quite aggressive. I watched in dismay as Cinnamon sprang up to bite at my kids’ faces more than once. No, he would have to go. One Sunday afternoon, we sadly dropped him off at a “re-homing” shelter, where he soon found a home with another male cat for a buddy. Happy for him, we were now morose over losing a second cat.
I let a year elapse, thinking we needed to heal from our losses, unwilling to give away our hearts again to another disappearing pet. Would the third time be the charm? To plug the cat-sized hole in my daughter’s heart, we decided to risk it.
This time, I began by asking for divine help. “Lord, if there’s a cat out there for us, will you lead us to it and make it obvious? We don’t need any more broken hearts!”
Finding Jazzy
Before my daughter’s eleventh birthday, she and I stopped at our local community pet shelter.
“Welcome! We have an overabundance of cats right now, so if you’re interested in any, we will waive the usual adoption fee.”
“We’re just looking today,” I assured.
The volunteer nodded and escorted us into the cat room. Rows of cages, three deep in height, sat occupied with every color and breed of sleeping cat. And there were more around the corner! Poor kitties!
I breathed a quick prayer. Lord, we need something less furry and more appealing, maybe calico-colored? One that likes to meow and talk to us because we miss that!
At the end of the room, in one of the bottom cages, a skinny, gray tabby cat stood up meowing, and began rubbing against the front of her cage.
“Well, look at that!” the lady noticed. I looked at the cat’s name—“Jackie,” and then her common gray coloring and felt unimpressed. She’s not a pretty kitty, God, but perhaps you’re reminding me that it’s the heart that matters?
“She doesn’t appear to be eating much,” I mentioned, observing her full dish of food.
“No, she isn’t. She arrived a few days ago from a home with two older ladies. I don’t think they could afford her care anymore. Would you like me to get her out for you?”
My daughter had stooped to pet her, so I nodded yes. We sat in a small visiting room with Jackie, who continued her vocalizations, weaving around the room. She had a cute, triangular face and long legs. She didn’t want to be held but rubbed against our legs and enjoyed our petting.
I felt the need for caution. “We can’t take her home until we discuss it with Dad and Josh. If they agree, we can bring them back tomorrow.” I was determined not to move too quickly if this wasn’t God’s answer.
Meanwhile, I continued my prayers. “Lord, if this is the right cat, please show us!”
***
The next day, our entire family trooped into the cat room at the shelter after church. Only one scrawny cat in the far corner stood up to greet us with loud meows…Jackie.
“Sounds like she remembers us!” My excited daughter headed straight to her.
I watched with interest. “How old is she, I wonder?’
“Her paperwork said she’s probably about five,” the attendant informed us while scooping her out of the cage.
The visit was a success! We brought the skittish gray “scaredy-cat” home with us that day and deposited her in the basement near her food, water, and litter box. She promptly hid, vocalizing her distress. My daughter spent the entire afternoon sitting on the basement floor, calming and coaxing her out with treats.
In the morning, our new kitty gingerly ascended the stairs to explore and picked a spot on the rug next to our sliding glass door to lie.
None of us liked the name “Jackie,” so during lunch, we discussed others. Finally, I suggested “Jazzy” because it sounded a lot like “Jackie.” The name stuck.
Life With Jazzy :)
Jazzy adapted to her new home and routine quickly. She didn’t care to be picked up much or held, but loved her pettings and brushings. She hid from strangers but grew comfortable with us. We enjoyed watching her morning “zoomies” around the house and seeing her bristle when other creatures came to the windows to visit. Jazzy napped the day away in Christa’s room until she got home from school, then joined the family for TV each night on her favorite rug.
***
Two years after adopting Jazzy, my mom’s difficult journey with Alzheimer’s came to an end. Exhausted from the funeral and years of caregiving, I collapsed on the couch of my living room, desperately needing rest. With both kids in school, the quietness afforded time to recuperate.
I noticed something out of the ordinary during this time. Jazzy meowed incessantly until she found me, then uncharacteristically hopped up to nap directly on my stomach. Surprised, I just left her there. We napped like that every day while I recuperated. Jazzy’s purring comfort soothed my damaged emotions and nudged me toward healing. After those first two months, she never hopped up to sleep on me again. She ministered to me during my deep grief and exhaustion.
***
Jazzy’s role as a “study buddy” spanned Christa’s late elementary through middle and high school years, then on and off through five years of college. Jazzy was definitely Christa’s cat.
When the kids moved out, Jazzy adopted me as her favorite. She followed me from room to room, napping wherever I worked.
Jazzy grew older. At seventeen, she needed daily medication and special attention. As Jazzy’s care needs increased, I tried to provide the same comfort she provided for me so many years ago.
Two weekends ago, it became time to say goodbye—never an easy decision when you love your pet. Christa and I reminisced with photos and videos while Jazzy lay beside us in her favorite spot. The following day, we tearfully let Jazzy go, almost thirteen years to the day we adopted her.
P.J. (Post Jazzy)
Well, it sure is quiet around here without my meow-y sidekick. But I am thankful God created furry companions for us. And that he handpicked a “plain Jane” gray tabby, Jazzy, as the “purr-fect”-hearted cat for our family—a reminder to me that God hears our prayers and cares.
(In honor of a special little gray cat: R.I.P., Jazzy. I’m hoping we will get to see you again someday).
How about you, my friends, what pets are in your heart long-term? Please share if you’d like!
We Worship Through it…
The King is Coming! Red Rocks Worship:
I feel for you. Their lives are so short, and it is so hard to let them go.
I have two doggies that bring so much joy to the house.
not even a cat person but she seems like a heavenly gift for sure. So wonderful that she was you 'therapy pet' as you recuperated after your mom's passing.
I once had a dog who was not especially cuddly who laid by my sprained ankle for a week or so, not before nor since. Somehow they know...