In the summer of 1993 my teenage daughters Mary and Michelle were going to their Aunt’s house on a rainy day and after they knocked on the door and were waiting for someone to answer it they heard a scared, pleading little “Meow” come from under the bush by the front door.
They looked where the meow came from and crouching scared, wet and cold was a skinny little kitten looking up at them shivering with pleading big green eyes. It looked like the little guy was about 6 or 8 weeks old and had been abandoned by somebody and left on his own to either make it alone or die. If you knew my daughters, you knew they took in every stray they ever came in contact with. They dried the little kitten off and fed him, it was a little boy American Short Hair Tabby. They let him sleep with them in their double bed that night and woke up the next morning covered with flea bites. They got rid of all the fleas and kept the little kitten for a few days at our home. Their brother’s girlfriend liked the kitten and said she would take him home with her. The kitten was named Jethro after Jethro TULL.
After he moved out on his own, my son took Jethro to live with him. My son worked in construction so he was gone all day during the week. Jethro was put outside in the mornings and let in the house in the evenings. His days were filled with hunting and defending his turf against the local neighbourhood Tom-Cats who were older and a lot bigger than Jethro. But as time passed Jethro grew in size and wisdom for a cat. He became an expert hunter and grew to a formidable 23 pounds of muscle, not an ounce of fat on his muscular body. The Tom-Cats who pummelled him as a young cat were never to be seen in Jethro’s yard again ,because as soon as one dared to trespass they were soundly pummelled and ran away to lick their wounds.
I lived in Carlsbad with my wife Carol, our daughters moved down with us and our son and Jethro lived in Riverside about 100 miles north of us so he could be close to his girlfriend. In 1996 after Jethro was 3 years old our son and his girlfriend moved to Carlsbad to be closer to the rest of the family. The apartment our son rented did not allow pets so our son asked if Jethro could stay with us for a few months until our son got a place that allowed pets. Naturally we said it would be Okay, but just for a few months.
We brought Jethro down to Carlsbad from Riverside in the summer of 1996 and he meowed pitifully all the way down because he hated to be in a cat carrier that he had to be in to ride down the 100 miles. After we arrived we let him out in the house and he surveyed his new environment very carefully. He kept to himself pretty much for the first week or two, but finally warmed up to his new house. He was an outdoor cat though and did not like being in the house much at all. He would sit by the back door and survey his new surroundings for hours at a time wanting to go out. We did not let him out for 3 or 4 weeks though as we didn’t want him to run away trying to find his old home in Riverside.
When we finally let him out he took off like a bullet and cleared his territory of any cats that dared to challenge him. He would be out all day long but was always at the back door in the evening to come in and sleep in the house. After a while he ended up at the foot of our bed and made it his nightly spot for the next 15 ½ years.
Jethro would bring his family a treat every so often, we would hear a meow on the back porch and look out and there would be Jethro with a lizard, bird, mouse, rat, gopher and even a full grown rabbit once. He was bringing us dinner in appreciation for the excellent care he was given at our house. I watched him hunt and run down a full grown rabbit one time and it looked like a lion chasing down a Wildebeest in Africa, poetry in motion. The few months we were to watch after Jethro turned out to be 15 ½ years of the best cat a person could ever hope to have in their home. In his peak years no cat around would dare challenge him for fear of a sound trouncing.
As he grew older Jethro slowed down a bit, but could still run up a tree at full speed well into his 16th year. He stayed around the house more and more and would go out for a couple of hours a day but preferred to stay inside and sleep in his sunbeam by the patio sliding door where it was warm and safe. My wife and I worked in construction, she in the office and myself in the field, and we would get up at 4:00 A.M. every morning during the week. Jethro would get up with us and while I sat on the couch putting on my boots with a cup of coffee watching the morning news Jethro would jump up and lay down beside me and I would scratch his ears and he would purr like a motorboat. He was there waiting for us when we got home and would go outside for an hour or two before coming in for the evening. He liked to stay indoors more than outside in his older years. On week ends he would still get up and meow until I got up because he didn’t want me to be late for work, he didn’t know week ends were no work. I would get up and read the paper and watch the news and have a cup of coffee and Jethro would lay beside me and I would scratch his ears while he purred like a motorboat. I had cancer in 2005 and the whole time I was home and in bed Jethro would lay and sleep at the foot of the bed and keep me company. I would scratch his ears and he’d purr and I’d say to him, You’re a Good Boy Jethro, you’ve always been a Good Boy, you’re a Good Boy NOW and you’ll ALWAYS be a Good, Good boy.
As the years took their toll on the old guy he slowed down and we finally had to build him a ramp so he could still get up on the foot of the bed at night. He still got up with us daily and loved to have his ears scratched. When he was 18 ½ years old on a Tuesday morning at 1:30 A.M., Jethro died on my lap, while I sat holding him on the dining room floor by his sliding door where he always laid in his sunbeam. He died of old age and looked at me with those big green eyes as he took his last breath and it tore the heart right out of my chest, I cried until daylight came in the sliding glass door.
I was referred to an article titled Rainbow Bridge by a good friend and I KNOW that is where Jethro is playing and running and being his old self and waiting. Someday his ears will perk up and he will tear out running and take a flying leap into my arms when it is my time to cross the Rainbow Bridge and we will go into Heaven together happy.
He is buried on a hill behind our son’s house so he can enjoy the sunsets and oversee the lands he ruled for the years he lived with us. Rest peacefully Jethro boy, we will see you again, Good Boy, Good, Good Boy.
Mike Rice
A Morning Kiss
A morning kiss, a discreet touch of his nose landing somewhere on the middle of my face.
Because his long white whiskers tickled, I began every day laughing.
Janet F Faure