A Tribute to Mr. Jazz – The Dignity of Life and Death and Finding the Beauty in Letting Go
The thing with inevitability is that no matter how many wishes upon a star, you cannot stop what is meant to be and I now find myself, a born writer, in stunned silence with no words to adequately convey both the crushing loss, yet the sobering relief of letting my beloved Mr. Jazz finally pass to his place on the Rainbow Bridge this past Wednesday.
On the surface you might not even know it, but upon closer inspection, every nook and cranny looks like a cat infirmary. Pill bottles, syringes, pee pads, disinfecting wash, special cat foods, pain medication, blankets in every corner, and more. But, the fact is, after a litany of blood tests, x-rays and endless examinations with no conclusive evidence in sight, and despite the mountains of cat paraphernalia dedicated to prolonging the life of our beautiful 15 year old boy, Mr. Jazz, he was dying.
We, of course, did not immediately know this and made it our mission, as if somehow our love and perseverance could will him back to his original healthy body weight and his younger days of life. We ran the gamut to assist – regular injections of fluids in his body, pills to stimulate his appetite, and, of course, my desperate and obsessive effort to find something to entice him to eat such as baby food, chicken broth, liver, cheese, specialty cat milks, turkey breast, tuna, and every and any brand of cat food on the market. He wanted none of it, to the point he was losing weight at such alarming levels that we were forced to bring him back to the vet to be taught how to force feed him with a syringe to bulk up his weight.
This photo was taken several years ago and even in his younger days, Jazz always had a dignified air about him.
You would think that one frail cat versus one very stubborn and determined human would be an easy victory for the human, but that was hardly the case. Jazz became completely angry, depressed, and so desperate to get away from me that he would run and hide every time he saw me. I remained diligent and did my best to nourish him, but the eating victories were few and far between. This battle went on for weeks until one morning when I was getting ready for work and noticed a big bubble protruding from his throat. I woke Dan up in a complete panic, certain my time with Jazz would be reduced to minutes and we rushed him to the vet. She calmly drained the protrusion and broke the news to Dan and I, “You will need to make a decision very soon, as we don’t want to see a cat needlessly suffering.”
Dan and I brought Jazz home and made a promise to one another – above all else, and despite how hard the decision would be, Jazz deserved his dignity and we were not going to subject him to further tests, tubes, pills, syringes, or anything else. We were going love him as much as we could and enjoy whatever time with him we would be blessed to have. That being said, it was like a mini-miracle was given to us. Jazz seemed to intuitively know it was up to him and he began to eat on his own to the point he was asking for “snacks” all day and night long which we happily obliged and let’s just say that I was “cautiously overjoyed.”
While always beautiful to me, you can see the effects of age and illness on Jazz in this picture that was taken last month.
We were given three more glorious months with Jazz who also seemed to sense the finality of time. He would drape his body on mine like days of old when we were on the couch and give me a bear hug as if to reassure me that he knew every day he had with us was a precious gift on loan. Dan and I lavished him with kind words, love, and extra petting and for a brief moment, time just stood still for us all. That was, until last week when everything began to change and we knew it was over. Jazz became incontinent and would take to slumbering for extended periods of time in very odd places. He was having trouble walking and took what would be his last bite of solid food and no amount of pleading, begging, crying, or cajoling would get him to eat. He began to nest and I knew he was trying to find a final resting place.
I put comfortable blankets all over the house for him to lie on – jumping on the couch or bed was no longer an option and I spent the entire week by his side at night, petting him for hours, until I knew he wanted me to leave so he could wander off without me watching him find a place to sleep through the night. He sensed that our time together at night was important and so did Harley. One night was especially difficult. I knew Jazz was laboring and she came to lie on the blanket next to us. I tried to shoo her away, but she got vocally agitated with me and pressed the warm girth of her body into his. I realized she was offering him her comfort and I let her stay with us. She never once moved and I remain in awe of her compassion towards him. Actually, all of the cats have been extraordinarily in tune with the emotion of the house and I don’t know what I would have done without all of their support.
On Tuesday night, I went to bed paralyzed with fear as to what I would find in the morning. Jazz was more restless than usual and he did not want me by his side for long. While it pained me immensely, I allowed myself to leave him be and respected his instinct to be alone. When I got up to go to bed, Harley was again by his side. When I woke up early Wednesday morning, I instantly looked for him and could not find him. I searched for over an hour and finally woke Dan to help me. He found Jazz under the TV stand and he hugged me and with a heavy heart told me Jazz was no longer in pain and was gone.
As Dan and I held one another, Peanut was on the floor, looking at the spot where Jazz was, imploring Dan to look again. He then told me, “Deb, Jazz is still with us.” He was barely breathing and could not lift his head. We had prayed he would pass peacefully in the night, but for whatever reason, we were given the precious gift of being able to share his final moments with us. Dan picked Jazz up and put him on a towel and brought him into the guest bedroom where I laid down next to him on the bed. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped myself around him to offer soothing words of love and comfort and pet his head as gently as I could. Kizmet and Harley lay at my feet and all of us spent the entire morning with Jazz. We did not move an inch until it was time to go. Dan had made the appointment for the afternoon – we knew the final gift we had to give Jazz was finding the grace, beauty, and dignity of letting him go.
Perhaps one of the most poignant, bittersweet, and meaningful pictures I will ever have. This is me in my final moments with Jazz as I am surrounded by Kizmet and Harley who seem to intuitively sense the passing of life.
At Dan’s suggestion, we placed Jazz in a beautiful wicker basket to carry him to the vet. It fit his body perfectly and he looked so peaceful resting in it. Once we got there, our vet talked to us for a few minutes and then she dimmed the lights. It was actually quite beautiful and serene. Dan and I held one another as we comforted Jazz in his final minutes and we left with the knowledge that he was so very loved and cherished and that he did not have to suffer any more. It obviously hurts deeply that we had to make that choice, but we knew it was the right one because when it comes to a pet, despite the wish to never have to let them physically go, one has to be gently reminded it is about the quality of their life, not the quantity of years that it needs to be measured by.
And even with the remaining gang of seven – Zee, Zoey, Mia, Peanut, Harley, Rolz, and Kizmet – there is still the loneliness of not having the eight. I will miss him so much – he was a part of my life for as long as I can remember and was one of the kindest, sweet tempered and docile cats I have ever known. Never once did he start a fight with the other cats or cause any trouble. He was not a cat prone to jumping on the counter, nor did he break things. He did not play with DaBird or laser pens. He was a lover, pure and simple, and the greatest joy he ever got was those blessed moments when he could drape his body over mine and give me a big ole bear hug with his beautiful, fluffy paws.
Rest in peace my darling boy… we love you so much…
Deb, thank you for sharing your experience of accompanying Mr. Jazz into the spirit world. Many people think a body coming to its end is only that very last time, the final incapacity of the body and surrender, but truly it begins well before that, and animals are very aware. It was such a brave thing, and probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, for you and Dan to stop trying to force Jazz to be well again, and just to let him follow his course and try to anticipate what he needed every moment; sometimes there is no greater fear or sorrow than the thought of our own incompetence causing our beloved companion to suffer. But that enabled all of you, your entire household of humans and cats, to walk with Jazz to the end of his path. I’ve always found there was one cat, like your Harley, who most deeply accompanied the traveler at the end; for as much as we humans can do, there are times when only one of their own species can fill that role.
And I fully understand how, still living with seven cats, the absence of the one who has passed is a gaping chasm of darkness for now. Someday again it will be filled with beautiful memories..
Bernadette – yes, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but out of respect to my love for him, it just felt right. He deserved his dignity and I could not bear another moment of him suffering to appease my desire to never let him go. I know you understand all of this only too well and I so appreciate your eloquent words and compassionate support.
Both my heart and Marty’s are breaking for you and Dan. Jazz was a very special kitty who was so greatly loved and deeply treasured… and the love he returned to you both was a glorious gift. You both are very fortunate to have been able to share many wonderful years of joy with such a magnificent kitty.
It’s so hard to let go-when my angel cat Yo Yo became so gravely ill , I desperately tried to bring her back to health to spend more time with her; is it ever enough?
But these amazing kitties somehow find us and entwine themselves in our hearts- never to be forgotten- always alive in our memories, and I don’t think they want us to be sad, but to rejoice in the time – no matter how long or short- that we spent together. But… my tears flow for you and your loss. A dear friend once told me that tears are liquid love and that is so very true. Yo Yo will be keeping an eye out for Jazz and welcome him to the Rainbow Bridge where they are once again are young, healthy and playful.. and waiting for us- when it’s time- to be reunited with them. Much love to you dear friend.
Jo and Marty – I know your hearts are breaking for Dan and I and I truly appreciate your love and concern. Jazz was a glorious gift and I know that your understand what I was going through. Thank you so much for your kind words and heartfelt condolences. xoxox
Deb, I am so sorry. You gave Mr. Jazz a wonderful life…and when it was time for him to go…you let him go, knowing it would break your heart. My heart breaks for you, too. Mr. Jazz may be physically gone…but he will never be forgotten…and he will forever be loved.
Hugs to you and Dan.
Sue
Island Cats – thank you so much for your hugs and compassion.
Although it might have been easier if Mr. Jazz had passed during the night, you were given a gift of spending those final few precious hours together. I know how difficult it is to watch and wait, and then make the final decision to let them My heart goes out to you. xo
Yes, in many ways it would have been easier to let him pass during the night, Vicki. But I do see now what an incredible gift I was given being able to be with him in his final moments. Thank you for your support.
We are so very sorry for your loss, it sure does hurt to let them go. Purrs of comfort and sympathy.
Scylla, Socks, Tuiren, and Fenris – thank you all for your purrs of comfort and sympathy.
It’s really difficult for me to comment on this post because I just had to let my 12 year old go yesterday morning. It was just a few hours after he had fluids and was alert and happy. I, too, had prayed for him to go peacefully in his sleep, but it wasn’t meant to be.
I’m so very sorry for your loss….
Oh Michelle – my heart is absolutely broken for you and I am so, so sorry. I know this post must have torn you apart and I truly appreciate you taking the time to comment and sending your condolences. I pray for you as well and my heart is aching with you…
Heard about your story from The Conscious Cat
Such a handsome boy. I am so sorry to hear of the pain you all had to go through. Im bawling my eyes out as my story was so simular in many ways, but in the end my girl (Kizmet) passed away at the vet. and I didnt get to say goodbye, as I thought I was just leaving her there overnight, for more tests to be done the next morning. Uncountable tests had already been done, things tried, but sadly 30 mins after she passed away and I got the phone call, the tests came in that she had had Cancer.
I hope his spirit and love forever lives with you. Thank you for sharing your story, as hard as it was Im sure
Lisa – thank you so much for taking the time to comment, as I know it must have been very difficult for you to read this. I am so sorry your beloved Kizmet passed without you getting to say goodbye, although I am certain you told her each and every day how much you loved her.
Sending comforting purrrrrrsss and gentle headbumps.
Run free at The Bridge, Mr Jazz.
Thank you so much for the comforting purrs and gentle headbumps, Lee County Clowder.
We are sorry for your loss. We send you comforting purrs and gentle headbutts.
Thank you so much, Loupi and Zorro for the comforting purrs and gentle headbutts…
Purring for you as miss Jazz. He was such a beautiful boy. “He was a lover, pure and simple, and the greatest joy he ever got was those blessed moments when he could drape his body over mine and give me a big ole bear hug with his beautiful, fluffy paws.” Such a wonderful memory. One of the last memories I have of Sandy Red Tigger – I woke up with his long waisted tiggerness draped over my head.
Purrz and Purrayerz
Katie Kat
Oh Katie Kat – you sure do know what I mean and I am so glad you were able to have one of your last memories of your beloved Sandy Red Tigger draped over your head. Thank you for your purrs and prayers.
We are so very sorry for your loss. We read your beautiful tribute and got leaky eyes. Jazz is in a better place and running free. RIP sweet Jazz. We didn’t know Jazz but wish we had. A special kitteh.
Healing purrs and prayers for your ‘rents.
Angel Normie, Mika, Sasha & Grady Lewis
KitKat – how very kind of you to drop by with healing purrs of support even though you did not know Jazz. We appreciate your condolences so much.
I am so sorry for the loss of your handsome Mr Jazz. I am sorry I don’t have the words, but my heart hurts for you both knowing the pain and emptiness you are feeling.
You have made a lovely memorial post for him. It has taken me several attempts to read it through the tears, but it is beautiful.
(((hugs)))
Jackie
Flynn – I know this post must have been extremely difficult for you, as it was hard for me to read yours about Eric. Thank you for taking the time to comment – your hugs and support mean so much to me.
I am so very sorry for your heartbreaking loss. I have been in this situation more than once, and it never gets any easier. Nor should it. My thoughts and prayers are with you all . . .
Bobbi – such true words… it never is easy and I always feel that even knowing our time with our pets might be limited, it is always worth it in the end, as the love and joy they bring us far outweighs the inevitable heartache.
I cried reading this. Good luck with the next few days/weeks, and the good memories will soon enough overtake all the bad ones.
Brendan – it means so much to Dan and I to have you drop by and comment. I am sorry I made you cry, but as you have such a kind heart and soul, I am not surprised.
What a great tribute to Mr. Jazz. Losing a furbaby is always difficult and wrenching. I wish I could be there with you to offer hugs and comfort.
Thank you Cheryl – you are with us in spirit and I appreciate your hugs and comfort.
I had to come back later to comment after I’d read this – tears were flowing. Thank you for sharing your journey. Bernadette’s words also touched me deeply. It seems that at the times of greatest pain and suffering, that’s when our feline family members exhibit the most unusual and extraordinary behaviors. It looks like Harley was there both for Jazz and you. The way Kizmet was pressing himself against you, it seems he was there to lend you strength and comfort….
A Tonk’s Tail… Kizmet and Harley indeed were extraordinary and even to this day, I see Harley laying on the bed where Jazz last was. It was so endearing to have them share the journey with me and I will never forget their gentle compassion.
Hello Deb, it’s Dad Terry. I am so, so sorry about dear Mr. Jazz. There just are never the right words, I know, I’ve been there too, as we all have. Mr. Jazz was indeed fortunate to have your love and you his. The only comfort is that one day your heart will smile with the beautiful memories. It just seems to take so damn long. But when the happy hits the heart you will know that Mr. Jazz is truly with you forever. Hugs and love from all of us.
Hi Terry – you are so right. There really are no right words, but the love and hugs from all remains close to my heart. Mr. Jazz will always be with me and I do appreciate your support so much.
Thank you for sharing those last moments with us. I’m so sorry to hear it was time for Mr. Jazz to go to the bridge.
I remember that last month with Sweet Praline as if it were yesterday. I also remember the pain of knowing it was time to make that decision, but the peace of knowing it was the ultimate show of love to help her helped me get through. Mr. Jazz will always be in your heart.
Sweet Purrfections – I remember very well when Sweet Praline went to the Bridge and I know how difficult that was for you. And you are right, despite the pain of the decision, it far outweighs the pain the animal is going through and sometimes we do have to let go as the ultimate gesture of love. Thank you for your compassion.
What an incredibly moving tribute, Deb.
We are SO sorry for your loss.
Thank you for sharing such a personal moment with us.
Mr Jazz will be forever loved – forever cherished – forever missed – but never forgotten.
Love from Tsunami, Legend and all of your friends at Create With Joy
Thank you Create With Joy – it was a very personal moment, but somehow it felt right to share because I know so many of my blogging friends have gone through the same thing and would understand the poignancy of the moment. I appreciate your love and support so much.
What a lovely tribute to Mr. Jazz. I am so sorry that he had to run off to the bridge. Forever he can run free of pain and hurt. Keeping you in my thoughts.
Thank you Gracie – I do hope he is able to run free of pain and hurt too and I appreciate your kind words.