On Friday, it will have been three months since my lil fur-baby rescue cat Jazzy was killed by a coyote. For those of you who don't know me, Jazzy was my first "child." She was my first pet and meeting her was all an accident. Yes, an accident.
I was on a trip to Raleigh to visit my big sister and her husband, pumping gas at the White's gas station in Mann's Harbor, a little town just over the bridge that goes to Manteo, NC. Out of the corner of my eye, I see this blonde eight or nine-year-old boy crossing a four-lane highway with something in his arms. "Hmm, strange." I remember thinking and before I knew it, he was standing right in front of me with a tiny little fur ball in his arms, a kitten barely a month old—severely malnourished and shaking in fear. Blue eyes staring back at me. He asks me meekly if I'd like to have her—that his cat accidentally had babies and she was the last of the litter and they couldn't afford to keep her. The gas pump clicks in its completion so I check on it and then I see the boy in the corner of my eye again—he's running back across the highway‚ hands free. My passenger door was open because I had reached in there to get my wallet and just below the seat, I see the kitten curled up right next to my stinky tennis shoes on the floorboard. She was already struggling to keep her eyes open —she was three seconds away from nap time. My heart melted and I plugged in a new destination: Williamston Vet (next semi-big town I'd drive through in my trip to Raleigh). I needed to know how I was going to keep her alive that day.
Turns out she was flea-ridden and hadn't eaten in three days but as soon as I saw she was healthy otherwise, I knew I had to keep her. Mind you this was the most spontaneous move I had ever done. But she got me through breaking up a two-year dead-end relationship—she was the companionship I needed to encourage me to break things off. She was not only my first child but the cat responsible for changing my life. If I hadn't gotten her, I would not have ultimately met Jess. Sounds like crazy logic I know but Jazzy did more than just meow. She saw me through the biggest times in my life, rode on huge car trips with me and was my number one office co-worker.
On the night of July 23, my parents were visiting Jess and I in Wilmington and brought their dogs whom were wild with curiosity for her (as you can imagine, chill cats don't usually love hyper dogs) so we put her outside while we were eating (she was a very well-trained indoor-outdoor cat). We called her in before bed but she didn't come but figured she was afraid of the dogs and she often was nocturnal in the summer because she wanted to escape the heat. The next morning Jess found a pack of fur and her punctured collar in our yard and came to me with an expression of concern. He knew July 22 was the last time we will ever see her. I couldn't believe how long it took me to stop crying because I felt like I failed her.
With that said, on the three-month anniversary of her death, Jess and I have been compelled to search for another kitten rescue. If you, or someone you know has a litter of beautiful furry kittens (long-haired female preferred), Jess and I would love to have their contact information. As there are enough abandoned, unwanted or unhoused kittens out there, we are not interested in a bred kitten. We want to celebrate Jazzy's life by finding another rescue to love and raise.
We promise we're good parents, what happened to her was a freak thing and we have made a promise to not allow our next cat out at night no matter the circumstance. We are so looking forward to filling in the hole Jazzy left in our hearts.