He had shown up on our kitty cams years before he joined our family–usually when the ones who ‘had’ him decided to go out of town and he was left fending for himself. The first time I thought, because of his size, that ‘she’ was a very pregnant kitty and did ‘she’ belong to anyone? That was in 2020. He showed up again over the next few years seeking dinner, or lunch, or breakfast, or all of the above. He had a scraggly meow, buckshot in his left side and took up permanent residency the day we brought our dog, Lila, home from rescue. It was January 27, 2024.

He had been named Jerry by those people up the mountain, but we called him Jerry Garcia as he was so chill and acted like he didn’t have a care in the world. He had an affection for warding off raccoons from his area on the lower back deck, could chase a bear in a moment’s notice or find you the “prettiest” snake on the mountain. He made morning walks with Lila and taught her the importance of boundaries. He loved a good brushing and lived for belly rubs. We were not certain of his age exactly, but felt he was about 13 or 14. We were certain his life would have meaning.

When we made the decision to move to the coast, Jerry was with the other six kitties, with myself and MIL, looking towards a new adventure. The always outside Jerry became inside Jerry and with the exception of the rudeness of two, he fit right in the clowder. I would find him sunning in the dining room, stretched out as “tres” in the Three Amigos of himself, Sailor and Henry. He was a beautifully kind cat–never the troublemaker–but extremely thankful for his surroundings and staff–especially with his Grandma. Jerry took up residency on her lap daily with an ample supply of love and belly rubs.

A few months ago, Jerry was diagnosed with kidney disease. We made sure he had the best care, all of the love in the world and we took the responsibility of giving him sub-Q IVs to ensure his fluid levels were maintained. He didn’t miss a beat during his treatment. The girls at Lillian Vet always greeted him with an astounding “Hello, Jerry Garcia!”, and today they held my hand and hugged me through our last goodbye.

It is a very hard choice of knowing when to let go, but when Jerry was not watching the Alabama game with us on Saturday night and refused dinner, I knew he had declined. We were fighting a horrible game with time and kidney disease–neither which were being forgiving at this point. He wanted to find peace in the back of his Grandma’s closet, but I placed him on her bed. We doubled up on IVs to make sure he stayed hydrated, but his breath was becoming short and I just knew…

I hated that I knew.

I have heard it said that if love could have saved him, he would have lived forever. I know, in my heart, he is curled up in my Momma’s lap with Hannah, Kelty and Cassidy at her feet. Daddy is watching heaven’s ESPN and Jerry looks up to acknowledge there is a game to watch, even though it was not Alabama.

I prayed over him in the minutes before and after Dr. Beth sent him to them. I told him to run free, to finally catch that bear and to know we could not have loved him any more than we did.

But he knew that–

I loved that he knew.