Bullwinkle & Jezebel

Bullwinkle & Jezebel

Today, March 21, is the 5-month anniversary of Jezebel's death, and the 2-month anniversary of Bullwinkle's cancer diagnosis. Jezebel was 19+ years old when she died -- the oldest any cat of mine has ever lived to be. She was a perennial kitten until she was 16, when she got old almost overnight: she got wobbly all of a sudden, and frail, and stopped chasing her tail. From then on, it was a slow, steady decline for her.

She hated Bullwinkle with a passion. And truly, had I not seen Bullwinkle in action with Jezebel, I would have thought Bullwinkle was perfect (as opposed to simply being very close). He was just horrible to her -- he treated her as if she were his prey. We lived for a while in a place with mirrored sliding closet doors; the bed faced the mirror. Jezebel would slink around under the bed, while he would sit on top of it, watching her in the mirror. When she got right beneath him, he'd jump down and ambush her. So I got a bedskirt -- I figured he wouldn't be able to see her under the bed any more. He just changed tactics and started hiding under the bed -- so he could ambush her as she walked by.

He was relentless in his pursuit of her. It didn't help that she was an incredibly shy cat (the apartment manager at that place called her my "imaginary friend" because she'd never seen her -- if I remember correctly, Jez hid in the closet most of the time then). Later, Jezebel became almost totally deaf and stopped being so shy -- I think noises must have been problematic for her. She was much more outgoing in her older years. I know the photo above looks as if they were best friends, but they weren't -- that cozy domestic scene was so unusual that I gave the photo a title of "Miracle." I saw this only 2 or 3 times in the entire 11+ years they lived with each other. (I think they must've just been really cold -- note that their backs are to each other.)

After Jezebel died on October 21, I was shocked to realize that Bullwinkle really missed her -- he seemed somewhat depressed for the rest of his life, actually. I realized I had only ever understood their relationship from her point of view: I had done a lot of maneuvering to protect her from him over the years. For a while, they each even had their own litter box, their own food, their own water. A friend joked that Bullwinkle thought that Jezebel had 5-star cat litter and bottled water -- and that was when they both had exactly the same thing. Later, I gave her canned food because her stomach wasn't doing very well with the dry stuff -- and he was really jealous. (I didn't give Bullwinkle canned food until he started having trouble eating; shortly after, he was diagnosed with cancer. I told him he was finally getting the 5-star stuff and wept to myself -- because he was suddenly as old and infirm as Jezebel had been.)

In retrospect, his depression over Jezebel's death and his illness blended into one another; I'm still not sure where the depression left off (if it did) and where the cancer took over. I do remember giving him some of Jezebel's canned food right after she died -- and him being totally uninterested. Now I wonder if it was because he was depressed, or because it was hard to eat -- once he was in the grip of cancer, it became clear that hard food was actually easier for him because he could use his teeth -- whereas with soft food, he had to use his tongue, which didn't work.

And part of the cruelty of his death was wrapped up with Jezebel's decline -- for months before she died, Bullwinkle and I would have our cuddlefests at the top of the stairs (which Jez couldn't climb by then), and I would hug him and say to him, "There's nobody like you, there's no other cat like you." After she died, our cuddlefests continued and I remember doing the math in my head: "Jezebel was 16 when she got old, but she was probably exceptionally healthy; Bullwinkle probably has at least until he's 14 before he gets old like that, so we have at least three more years...." Bullwinkle was my solace during Jezebel's decline and death.

And now they are both gone, and life continues. Next week Zendi, a beautiful calico, will come to live with me -- I'm looking forward to a new furry companion. The house has been really lonely without any troublemakers in it.

Here's a video of Jez, taken in the fall of 2006. I think it's really funny -- to me, her shyness totally comes through her looks of concern at the camera.:)