Dear Diary,
I have a malignant tumor in and around my heart. (See April 2009 and May 2009) I can’t take chemo, but am on steroids and doing fine.
I’ve had a pretty good month. I can’t run down the hall any more, but I can still walk. Most of the time, I don’t need to stop and rest. I still go to the water bowl and drink on my own. Mom is always checking to see if I’m well-hydrated. Mom gives me good food in a syringe about four times a day, but the rest of the time, I eat very well on my own.
Aunty Susan and I have a game called “Volcano Food”. She scrunches the food up into a hill and I bite off the top of it. Then I sit back and look at her until she scrunches the food up again. This goes on until I lick the plate clean. Mom tried to play the game, but her hills just weren’t the same.
I’ve had a talk with Barnaby. I want him to take care of Mom. I’m not comfortable sleeping with her now, but I don’t want her to get lonely. Barnaby said that it was fine with him, so he’s been curling up with Mom and purring her to sleep. Booper is a cuddler, so I know that she’ll be there for Mom, too.
Dear Diary,
I’ve been going to THE VET every Friday for a check up and to be weighed. I’m not gaining weight, but not losing either. THE VET has been really nice to me and Mom, so last Friday, I let her get down on the floor with me and give me a belly rub and a chin scratch. She was very pleased. She said that I looked like the old Davey Jones. I’m not old or new. I’m just me.
Mom says that she can tell when I feel bad, because my whiskers are plastered against my face. When I feel good, my whiskers are standing straight out. I’ve had a terrific week. I have been eating and wandering around the house. Mom held me up to the window and I got to see some baby robins learn to fly. I tried to catch an ant that sneaked into the house, and all of the time, my whiskers were standing straight out. Mom said that I’ve had a whisker-popping great week.
Mom and I saw my Feline Guardian Angel in the clouds the other day. Mom told me that I was very protected and that everything would be OK. I understand that. I know that I’ve had a great time. I’ve met great people because of this Diary. When things go bad, I’ll miss Mom, but I’ll just be headed for another adventure. Mom says that her mother and father will be there to take care of me.
Davey Jones (Davey with an e because I'm not a Monkee)
Dear Diary,
This will be the last entry. Davey Jones died Sunday night after a whisker-popping week. He was having a day of rest and not eating much. He walked to the water bowl and got a drink and then went to the litter box. He seemed weak, so I gave him some more food in a syringe and he went to sleep in his basket. My sister, Susan, and I saw a rainbow cloud over our house that afternoon.
Around 7:00 pm, he got out of the basket and walked over to me. He looked pale, he turned white, and fell over gasping. I covered him up, supported his head with one hand, and held his paw with my other hand. I told him that I loved him. I was able to give him his chin scratch and nose rub, and then he was dead. It only took three minutes.
He was cremated with his blankie, a straw, a catnip toy, a blue ring, and his Bubby. I’ll bury his ashes under the lilac bush.
Davey Jones and I have been writing Davey Jones’ Diary since February, 2006. Please join me next month when I’ll have a column with pictures and some things to make you smile and even laugh as we “Remember Davey Jones”.
Keep looking for Belle’s Blog. She still has things to say.
Thank you for reading Davey Jones’ Diary. Davey Jones was a very exceptional feline. I love him very much and miss him terribly.
Good-by, Dear Diary, Maryellen
When you contact Maryellen, please use Davey Jones or Catnip Chronicles in the subject area.
We love you, Davey.