Dear Jack

Today my dear ol' cat, Jack, died.  Jack (the girl with the no-nonsense name) has been my companion, roommate, and familiar for fifteen and a half years.  I adopted her from the Shelter in Orange, California in my final year at college.  She was not a kitten then, and our Vet said last year that she seemed close to eighteen years old, a good ol' cat.

I told Jack way back then that she was looking forward to a life on the road with me; I was a girl on the move.  She said, "Okay."

California, Lake Powell, Colorado, Florida, New York City, Santa Fe, Utah, Seattle... seven cross-country road trips, three flights, one boat trip, and I can't begin to count how many apartments.  But no matter where we were, she was always there to snuggle to sleep behind my knees.
Then Sophie came along.  When she was new, Jack would sit by her bassinet and watch her sleep.  And when Sophie became more, uh, constructive with her time, Jack kept an eye on her then, too.  Jack will be missed deeply, but what a wonderful life we shared.
Olive juice, Jack.