Peace of Mind Organizing

A tribute to Joe

11 February 2013

My orange tabby cat, Joe, died on Friday. I know that when we bring pets into our lives part of the bargain is that they’ll probably die before us. And it will feel way too soon. But that knowledge doesn’t make losing them any easier.

Joe’s death was sudden. He died in the hospital, two days after being admitted, while we were still trying to figure out just what was wrong with him and how to treat it. He was a very sick cat (lymphoma is suspected), but we didn’t realize he wasn’t feeling well until about three weeks before he died.

Joe, awakened from a catnap

Today I want to post a little tribute to Joe and honor him. We got him in 2002 after I’d signed a contract to write a book about cats, called How To Say It to Your Cat. I didn’t feel authentic writing about cats when I hadn’t lived with one since I was a kid. I had to persuade my husband, Barry, who protested that the book would be finished in six months and the cat would live for 20 years. (Alas, he only lived ten.)

So Barry became a reluctant cat owner. And before too long, he and Joe were devoted to one another.

I don’t know how such a small animal can:

• be so annoying
• shed so much hair
• leave such a giant hole in my heart

Like most cats, Joe lived life on his own terms. When he wanted attention from us, no matter what we might have been in the midst of doing, he got it. Barry and I both work from home and Joe didn’t care if one of us was intently working on something. If he wanted lap time, he hopped in our laps. In my case, he liked lying on my desk, often on my keyboard, or standing between me and my monitor.

He inspired a couple of blog posts. I blogged about his being my role model in persistence and about how he hampered my productivity.

It's hard to type when Joe does this.

One time, shortly after we got him, back when I made my living as a pet writer, Joe walked across my keyboard and in doing so selected everything in the Word document I was working on and replaced it with the word “hi.” That’s how clever he was. And, no, I’m not making that up.

Now that he’s gone, we don’t have to worry as much about keeping doors closed. We were able to take coverings off furniture (an attempt to keep all the furniture from being covered in cat hair). We can have cut flowers. (Joe enjoyed knocking over vases and eating flowers.) I can wear cashmere sweaters without worrying he’ll snag them.

But of course I’d trade those conveniences for having his warm little body curled up on my lap. I’d love to be able to look in his eyes and see his devotion. I’d even like to take a long sniff of cat breath.

Rest in peace, sweet Joe. Thank you for being such a wonderful part of our family. We’ll never forget you.

Tagged with: cats, joe

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