For My Jazz

 I’m writing this with a heavy heart. I’ve experienced another significant loss in my life. My cat Jazz has passed away.

Two weeks ago I rushed Jazz to an emergency veterinary clinic. She’d stopped eating; she went to my closet to hide, and began yowling. I knew that I had to act fast. 

On the drive there, I had the startling thought that Jazz might not come back home with me. When the results of the bloodwork came back, my worst fears were confirmed.

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I’ve always been a fan of Celtic music, especially the group Celtic Woman. Made up of four vocalists and one violinist, the group became famous worldwide in the early 2000’s. They became known for their covers of standard pop songs, and songs from Celtic culture and history.

One of the songs they performed that greatly resonated with me is “Caledonia.” On one level, the song honors a region in Scotland, given that name in the time of the Roman empire. The character in the song speaks of having traveled the world, and is now coming home. Yet, to my ear, it has a different meaning, or interpretation, entirely.

The song is bittersweet; it’s both a song of goodbye and of homecoming. The character in the song is leaving, saying goodbye. The song combines an uplifting, beautiful melody with words of love upon saying farewell, possibly forever. It’s a metaphor about death and dying. Caledonia is also a metaphor itself, referring to the home you’ve had throughout your life, as well as the home you’re going to. A heavenly home.

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The first cat I ever had in my home, as an adult, was Calypso. When the time came to put her down, I played “Caledonia” for her. I even sang a little, my singing stifled by raw emotion in the moment. She lived to be seventeen years of age. 

When the time came to say goodbye to Jazz, I knew what I had to do. I asked that I be allowed to play some music in her final moments; I was told that it would be fine. I got my phone out of my pocket. I found “Caledonia.” It was playing as Jazz peacefully passed away in my arms. She was thirteen years old.

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The night Jazz died, the drive home was truly devastating. Coming back home, walking in my front door without her, was gut wrenching. Blues, Jazz’s sister, clocked it immediately. I’d left the house with Jazz a few hours before; now here I was, back home, alone. 

Blues then began to search the house for Jazz. She checked in with me every five minutes or so, updating me on her progress. Blues couldn’t find Jazz. Of course she wouldn’t find her. Blues took it all in stride, and gave up after an hour. I think she knew. Animals know these things. It’s we humans that are bloody clueless.

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When I lost Calypso, I wrote a blog post for her, “One More Star in the Sky.” Now I have two stars in the sky watching over me. Forever may they shine.
https://esperanzahabla.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-more-star-in-skyuna-estrella-mas-en.html

It’s a new normal for Blues and I; we’re coming to know one another without Jazz. Blues has never been in the house without her before. That said, she’s taking the loss better than I am. It is exactly that: a loss. A new normal, forever changed.

Life goes on in the house of Jazz and Blues, now Hope and Blues. Blues has always been a loving, affectionate cat. She’s since become more vocal in the night, and more demonstrative in her affection. She’s not at all bashful about jumping up for a cuddle. She’s a comfort to me, as I am to her.

I’ve been heartened to see Blues claim her space in the last few days: racing through the house at breakneck speed, climbing up on their shared perch in the window, jumping up on their cat scratching tower, to survey the house from on high, and have a bit of fun. 

Blues should have some fun. It’s her home too. It’s our home. And Jazz was a huge part of it. 

For my Jazz. I’ll hold you in my heart forever. 

“Let me tell you that I love you,

that I think about you all the time.

Caledonia you’re calling me, 

now I’m going home……”

“Caledonia”-Dougie MacLean

https://www.dougiemaclean.com/index.php/c/29-caledonia