Jimmy

In Memory of Jimmy     3/24/2009 – 10/24/2024

Sometimes, the tides of fate seem cruel. What else could one think upon seeing a senior cat surrendered to a shelter due to a freshly minted diabetes diagnosis? Perhaps the previous owner couldn’t afford insulin, or a physical ailment rendered them unable to give this sweet boy the care he so desperately needed. Whatever the reason, the fact remained—this butterfly effect surely meant the end for this sweet old boy. But fate weaves its tales even still, and its thread connected Jimmy to us through a simple email. A plea. And we answered the call.

Jimmy came to us in April of 2022, narrowly avoiding euthanasia due to his diabetes. He was a big boy of 17 pounds then, but his stature seemed so very small when compared to his heart. We quickly learned that Jimmy was an absolute angel in every way…except, maybe, when it came time for dinner. Before we had microchip feeders in Harmony, Jimmy had his own condo during feeding time because he was a bit of a bully at the dinner bowl! He was kind of like the kid in the cafeteria line that would give you a nasty look for letting your friend sneak in beside you. He waited his turn, and he expected you to feed him in the appropriate order!

He was so food motivated, in fact, that when it came time to eat, you could always expect to see Jimmy’s little concentrated stare through the window of Harmony’s door. It’s something that always brought a smile to our faces. Even if our Crinkle Fry and Bruce were having a WWE match in the background, Jimmy’s sweet little face was locked in on whatever Fancy Feast concoction the staff had made that evening. Nothing could break that laser focus.

When Jimmy wasn’t having a Lion King style duel over food, he really was the most agreeable guy there ever was. Jimmy didn’t particularly bond heavily with the other cats, but he loved people. Everyone was his person, and Jimmy never knew a stranger. A few times, we’d be having discussions in Harmony about the health of another cat. If someone became tearful, Jimmy would sidle up next to them and offer his chin for scritches. He felt purpose in people and being near them, and though we sometimes laughed about him not necessarily being the brightest of the bunch, he shined in other ways. Jimmy shined in his compassion, his warmth, and how he’d always extend a helping paw when needed.

When fluids were added to his daily regimen, we anticipated that maybe he wouldn’t appreciate the poke. But Jimmy couldn’t find a reason to complain. In fact, he grew to love his fluid time, because it meant he got to be carried down the ramp every day and eat his favorite gravy snack. He would hug you, a paw on each shoulder, and then his paws would even slide behind your neck as he settled in against your chest. You could feel his little toebeans pressing into your skin, tugging you closer in the closest any of us has gotten to a real hug with a cat. He’d pull you in as close as possible so he could rub his face on your chin and jawline. There’s nothing as incredible as witnessing him doing that for the first time. Our Jimmy was incredibly special.

When all the other cats were camera shy during 2023’s Shadow Cats on Parade, Jimmy eagerly hopped into each float as they made their way down the ramp. He wasn’t shy about posing for photos, and even adventurously attempted to make his way into Oasis. Every little thing Jimmy did just seemed to spark joy in the collective—he had this energy about him that was just brightening. On your worst day, Jimmy was the sun sweeping golden light into the dark sky. If you were feeling down, just watch him swat at his automatic butterfly toy. Or laugh as he stares at you through the catio window, waiting for you to open the door despite being well aware of how to get through the cat door. Jimmy was funny. He was kind. He was compassionate and free and unapologetically himself.

Several months ago, we got some tough news. He had been experiencing some symptoms that led us to getting an ultrasound for him. Unfortunately, the results confirmed our worst fears—cancer. We did everything we could to keep him comfortable, and our resilient and bright Jimmy lived every day to the fullest. But cancer gave way to insulin resistance. He sported a funny haircut for a while, because we spent many many weeks testing his blood glucose with libre devices. Unfortunately, no amount of finetuning his doses seemed to bring his levels in check. We knew it was his cancer, then. And we knew our time with this angel was limited.

Inspired by Jimmy’s tenacity, every day with him was lived to the fullest. Despite having cancer, Jimmy never seemed to have a single complaint about his treatments. Every ear poke for his BG checks was taken quietly, even nuzzling into your hand after the fact. When he needed to be nebulized for his congestion, he would patiently sit in the nebulizer tank with that same concentrated stare. The only complaint we could register, given in the most polite of formats, was that he hated his oral medications. But even Jimmy’s way of telling us he hated it was considerate. He simply would put his paws up, pressing down on your hand as if to say, “You don’t need to do that!” Ever the convincing and charismatic fellow, even to the end, Jimmy made us smile.

Eventually, Jimmy finally told us that even he was tired. Though he didn’t have a complaint in him, we could tell that walking was difficult. He still wanted to come to you to be held, but the trek was a wobbly one. He spent a lot of time sleeping, and it seemed like his overall health was worsening. We knew it was time. And in true Jimmy fashion, seeing us all with snotty noses and tears streaking down our cheeks, he walked the circle to check on everyone. One by one, he was passed around a circle of people who loved him on his very best and worst days, and hugged just like he liked.

Surrounded by hearts heavy with the weight of their love for him, Jimmy peacefully passed on. Jimmy touched the hearts of everyone he met and knew many different names because of it. Jimmy, Jimberly, Jimjams, James, all different ways to say one thing—I love you. Every cat is special, but I don’t think there was any way to fathom just how special Jimmy would become to us on the fateful day of his intake. In return for his forever home, Jimmy supplied us with unconditional love and endless sunshine.

Harmony will feel empty, somehow. Amidst the craziness of the room and all the strong personalities, we will miss Jimmy’s softness. His sweet stare, with those big round eyes that seemed to look up at you and say, “Good, you’re here!” as he bounded toward you. But now, Jimmy doesn’t have to be in pain. Now, Jimmy can extend his warmth to new celestial heights his broken body couldn’t permit. Now, Jimmy’s sweetness exists in a memory, in a kind word, in a gentle hand on a shoulder of one in need. We can continue Jimmy’s legacy by choosing the path of compassion.

And even though it’s hard, we can rest knowing that Jimmy waits to cross the rainbow bridge much like he waited for his dinner at Harmony’s door. Peering through the window, waiting for entry, to be guided to a place where cancer doesn’t exist, where there are endless rabbits to watch, rippling streams and greenery as far as the eye can see. Perhaps Jimmy will learn to use the cat door in the next life, or maybe he’ll know a kind enough soul who will always be there to open the door.

Thank you to our volunteers for showering Jimmy with as much love as he showered us with. Thank you to our staff for guiding Jimmy through his difficult medical journey with compassion, softness, and an endless outpouring of love. Thank you to Vista Vet for the incredible attention to detail in all his medical matters and for never giving up on our sweet boy. Thank you to his sponsors Patricia H and Catherine Z. Thank you to anyone who ever looked at Jimmy’s chubby cheeks and felt warmed by his saccharine grin.

Somewhere, the moment Jimmy passed, a storm was broken by the sweeping light of the sun in all of its power and warmth. We know it. We love you, Jimmy. We always will.

 

Jimmy had 2 Sponsors

Patricia Heltke

Catherine Zirkle