Happy Thoughts, Happy Thoughts, Jethro!

When my puking, pooping, peeing darlin' silver tabby cat Jethro would start his retching regime, usually just as Hill Street Blues (MOM's & mine favourite TV show) was about to start, or just at a crucial part in the plot, Mom and I would plead "Happy Thoughts, Happy Thoughts Jethro!!"
Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't.

I still cajole myself on days when I need to, with that silly little chant. Sometimes it works. Sometimes, not so much.

I had this "great" post all going, and my battery died it's last gasp, so I'm starting all over aGain. I can NOT remember what it was about, 12 hours later.. Oh, well. New battery = no new tape-recorder:( Dammit. Hello, brain?

I'll riff a bit on Jethro, and his brother Simon, for my happy place. They came home from the shelter full of diarrhea producing coccidiosis. They were the poopiest kittens ever. I was forever cleaning up after them. They did get better, Jethro more slowly than Simon. The day Jethro finally used his litter box properly was a banner day! He loved to eat string, not that he was supposed to. He came prancing up to me one day, with a piece of twirled poop all the way up his tail, like the stripe of a barber-shop pole. It unwound off his tail quite tidily, thank goodness he'd started to solidify by this point. But how the heck did he do it??

Simon was the quiet type, a plodding, serious, sweet cuddler, while Jethro was the outrageous clown. Simon liked elastic bands and ear wax. Eeeew, you say? Simon, the first time he saw me clean my ear, startled, brightened and InsisteD on having it. When he was old and senile, he'd waken me in the night, purring and drooling in my ear.

Jethro had a wide, surprised, striped & unevenly marked face. Huge gleaming yellow Cheshire eyes. A laughing cat's face. A "Kliban" cat. (That's a cartoon artist, B. Kliban) He'd play hide-and-seek, peek-a-boo was his favourite, pull any/everything out of drawers, push everything off of the tops of fridges, steal ANY food of any kind at all. If you didn't notice, he'd run past you with the prize in his mouth, making his MrrOup laugh. Oh, he could make me laugh. His fascination with beetles, big black suckers, carried in his mouth, and mrrrupped at. He was the only cat I ever met that couldn't land on his feet if/when he fell from things, like chairs, counters. I swear he did it for the effect. He was born with great slap-stick comedy timing. Jethro & Simon followed me everywhere. They'd be waiting at the door when I got home.

Of course, since he was our cat, he had all kinds of interesting problems as he aged. TextBook Vet surprise, I hate it when the vet says, Well, this is unusual. Yeah, tell me about it. All my animals have been unusual. Vets must read up, knowing pets like mine are out there, with silly questions from their owners. Oh, get this. Jethro had urinary blockages, as most neutered males can. He had to be catheterized, hospitalized, urinalyisisized, specialized food.. I called the vet all worried one night, Jethro's pee-pee was blue. Poor Doc! Dr. managed to convince me that Jethro was well enough to wait for his next vet visit.

Jethro ripped his hind claw almost right off one Easter Sunday. He liked to roar around the house, and leap onto furniture to see what he could scatter. He'd caught his claw on the lip of some linoleum stripping stuff, as he liked to go barreling down the stairs, and skid as he slid off the edge. The blood was everywhere. Wouldn't stop. Called Vet, who said, Oh, is the claw really ALL the way off? Hopefully, as if I was kidding him.
Get to the Vets for Easter Sunday visit, Doc says, yes, well, he DID rip his claw (& toe) almost right off. I think Doc'd wished for even more.. Jethro was such an expensive cat. Worth every penny, for every laugh he gave us. Did I mention he was a projectile vomit-er? What a cat:) He had so many quirks and foibles. I've written them all down somewhere, these are the highlights I can easily rewind on. The theme song of Hill Street, if whistled, made Jethro sing, and meRRrow, and finally he'd jump on your lap, and gently paw at your face, begging you to stop. I guess he really didn't like that tune:)

Jethro did indeed save our lives one night. I was living at University, home with Mom and cats on weekends. That weekend, a train had derailed, close to Mom's home. We were ordered to evacuate. We drove to my dorm, with the cats in cardboard carriers. Quiet for most of the trip, Jethro suddenly started rocking and rolling, and Mom asked me to pull over as he started to explode from the box. JUST as I pulled over, going up a hill, a car on the wrong side of the road whizzed past, just missing us on the shoulder. We owed our lives to Jethro and his timing.

Happy Thoughts, Happy Thoughts, My Jethro!

We lost him to an enlarged heart (cardiomegaly) when he was only nine. Hardest thing I ever did, being there for him. Jethro chuckled gently to me as he passed. He had been suffering, and he knew he could soon laugh again. His tummy and his vomiting and his bladder and his diet gave him a taurine deficiency, brought on by the special vet food. The Vet Food was discovered to actually cause this condition, four years or so (?) after we had to put him to sleep. Yeah, read all about my animals! Veterinary TextBooks everywhere, with Jethro's case files the thickest. I still have the vet's records for Jetharoses somewhere. They chronicle a journey we'd never have expected, and wouldn't have missed, for the world.

Happy Thoughts, to you all.
Find a happy place, and just hang there, for a minute or too. It helps me, when I need to just stop. I think of Jethro. And I laugh.