James "Jamie"
James "Jamie" Schroeder
If you've been close to a pet, you know what we mean. There is something so painful about the loss. We adopted Jamie and his brother Jacko more than seventeen years ago from a local no-kill shelter. Jack died last year, unexpectedly. We missed him very much, but were grateful to have James to care for. We often wondered what it was like for Jamie to be alone without his brother. Cats are stoic and mysterious and hide their pain.
James and John, the Sons of Thunder. These little guys were like hurricanes plowing across our floors and over our furniture. It was easy to see why Donna saw the connection with the Zebedee boys. It's good to fill your home with uncontained joy. And the comfort of their warm and tender little bodies on our laps when they slept was the angelic antithesis to their wild and silly zeal.
Jamie had needs. He was diagnosed with a hyper-thyroid condition many years ago. Thank heaven some intelligent medical researchers found a way for humans to administer medications through a transdermal "pen" rather than with pills. Ever try giving a pill to a cat? His condition made him feel constantly hungry. He perpetually begged for food moments after we would feed him. And, for some reason, for the last few years of his life, he lost an ability or a desire to locate his litter box to do number two. We found ways to keep our rugs and floors clean and odor free, but it was exasperating at times.
I wish I could say we never lost patience. We did at times. But we always picked him up and caressed him because we knew he could not help himself. That's the hard thing about life, isn't it?; knowing that you are sometimes unkind to the people and creatures you hold so dear. But Jamie just took it in stride. "Silly humans. You love me. I know that." Then he would curl in my lap and sleep, while I stroked his soft fur.
We loved this little boy. He was a sweet, comforting companion. He was wild and playful when he was young. We dubbed him "Mr. Personality." In the final few months of his life he lost his ability to jump higher than a foot or so. It was heart-breaking to see him lose his playful zest. But he always stayed near us, following us around like a little puppy.
Maybe it's only a dream or a delusion, but we take comfort in the hope that Jamie and Jacko are playing together again, and that one day we will see them again too. Our loving God will give us the ability to see everything through heaven's eyes. All the attachments we've made by the bonds of love will come together again forever. We'll see you, our little buddy, Jammer.
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