Our one of two cat food bowls sitting empty this morning took on a whole new and sorrow-filled meaning. We put our cat Juba down yesterday.
14-years ago, almost directly after filling out the paperwork to buy the house we still reside in, we went to the Humane Society to fetch ourselves a cat in which to accompany our fresh purchase. Over-run with a new litter of orange kittens – to the point of being out of cages to put them in – they offered us a two-for-one deal. After some minor hesitation, we accepted their offer and left with two brother kittens, one in each hand.
Over the years, we’ve often pondered how terrible it would’ve been had we gotten only one, as we had intended (though we wouldn’t have known it). Our 2 brother cats have been great company and friends to each other. A couple of years ago, I finally got around to something I’d wanted to do for a long while. I sent the Humane Society a card, thanking them for their generosity in giving us a buy-one-get-one-free kitten and providing such a wonderful service to our community.
If you spent even short snippets of time sitting on our couch, it’s likely you would find yourself with a Juba asleep part-way on your lap in relatively short order.
I like to tell people that my superhero power is the fact that I take a nap most every day. Without fail, Juba would always join me, tucking right in close like a tandem skydiver. He had a sixth sense for when I was preparing to lie down and would pad his way on in, regardless of whether he was near or far away.
I think Juba had a lot to do with honing in my superhero power. He was an accomplished, gold-level snuggler. Now that he’s gone, my powers will be weakened for a spell as I re-calibrate, learning how to rest – and live – without him by my side.