29/12/2024
If there was going to be any of our loved ones who were gonna live forever, we thought it might possibly be our Casanova James. After all, he had a sweet stubbornness that served him well when he was saved off of the streets ... and then off of death row ... and then off of a potentially fatal health diagnosis courtesy of the care from his foster mom -- and this all before he joined us and ours in early 2014 as the first of what would become our extended Florida family.
But alas, today we learned that it wasn't to be that way. Earlier this month, before the big move we had to undertake from Ft Lauderdale to Dania Beach(ish), he started exhibiting the same behavior that clued us in when our Ozzie got sick two years ago. Always a picky eater, he became even pickier -- for instance, choosing to eat the meat from the burger and spit out the buns. We joked that he was on a no-carb diet, but that was only because we didn't know that he knew his time was limited, and, in his stubborn way, he was going to enjoy only the good stuff in his remaining time around such delicacies. As he started to lose weight more rapidly, we noticed that the "bumps" on his underside that we were monitoring since his last bi-annual physical were growing and hardening.
We celebrated his 11th birthday on Christmas (that's his "glamour shot" in the first photo), but that was the day that we knew we needed a professional opinion as to what was happening. He spent most of the day in the big bed ... but still did his regular business -- including a shortened walk in the new 'hood. First thing on the day after Christmas, we scheduled our vet appointment for Saturday morning. However, things for him deteriorated quickly. In a last feat of good-boy-ism, he held on as we requested, despite things taking a turn. This morning at 5am, we rose together and headed out to the new backyard (the third of his territory over which he proudly ruled) to be together for the sunrise ... and then we made what would be our final trip to the vet (our last full shot of him in the car is in the second photo).
During the ride, we talked about our long life together. About how he first came into our lives. About how his life changed for the better when we added his brother Ozzie into the mix (as a reminder, Ozzie passed away a bit more unexpectedly just two years ago). About how he was always so happy and excited to meet any other living being. About how he taught us so much along the way about adaptability and overcoming adversity. About how he went mostly blind a few years back, and yet somehow took it all in stride. About how he had some restless nights dealing with those troubles, but how he overcame them by reaching out for help from us and overcoming all of his fears safe in the arms of those who loved him ... and those he loved so fiercely in return.
We most definitely talked about the marking on his backside -- the one we frequently referred to as "water off a duck's back" (the third photo in this set) -- and about how he taught us that ANY obstacle was surmountable when loved ones helped you put things in perspective.
And then, in that room, we talked about how he would soon be able to meet so many others on the other side of that proverbial rainbow bridge. His sibling who didn't make it through at the very onset of his life. His sister named Willow who *almost* made it through, but who was bound to greet him in the same playful manner in which they last interacted. His beloved brother Ozzie, with whom he shared so many experiences and memories. His "grandmother" Dolly, whose lotion he so enjoyed licking off of her arms and legs. And even those whom he had only heard us speak of from before his time -- Demon James, the original pit bull from whom he got his middle name. The Chicago kitties who once ruled the roost (of whom he had only met Murder, the last surviving member, in that first Florida house). The people who went before that were most important to HIS people (like DJ and Flowers and others).
We also talked about the biggest lesson he taught us: that the solution for every problem was to lead with love (which was actually the slogan of his presidential campaign in 2020 [he lived a VERY full life]). That he wasn't named Casanova for nothing. That every stranger was just a friend he hadn't met yet.
And then we said goodbye. For now.
On the way home, I stopped by the place where he spent most of his life. The place where he loved to sun himself, rolling in the dirt for the heck of it, confidently surveying that which was his. The place where we had ironically hung a "beware of dog" sign. I took down that sign (we still have access to that back yard for a few weeks), and I couldn't help but wonder why it was that we were alerting the general public to be aware that a creature had an endless supply of love to give.
Tonight, we did our regular "turndown service" in our house the way he had for many more than 3000 nights prior -- we made sure that his pillow was there where it always was, and that his blanket lined the middle of the bed in the same way it has for years. For as much as he was the "beta" to Ozzie's "alpha", he was always in the number one spot at the top of the bed between those humans he rescued. As such, we'll continue to honor him in that way in the many weeks ahead as we think of him so frequently. From that very spot, we heard him many a night blissfully lost in a dream, chattering away and talking in his sleep in a manner that only he could do ... and we fully expect him to grace our dreams in much the same happy way.
We'll never know exactly why things went so bad so quickly. Was it because he approved of Oliver (oh -- wait -- we haven't even talked about HIM yet) and he endorsed our frequent singing of the "eight is enough to fill our lives our lives with love" theme song (with his departure, we're back to eight souls in our household)? Was it because he felt that reaching the grand old age of 11, despite all of his challenges, was a final act feat in and of itself? Or was it what I believe in my heart of hearts: that he held on long enough to see us in our new place, and, confident that we were set up for the next chapter of our lives, he chose to take his leave. After all, we had often said that we had hoped that we wouldn't have to move in such a way that he'd have to learn a whole new set-up in his state. I truly think he was all "you good? you good! I can rest rest peacefully knowing that".
We ask for your thoughts and prayers as we deal with this grief. We ask for a special consideration for Spice and Oliver -- the boy cat who always wanted to be his dog friend ... and the boy cat whom Casanova befriended in his backyard in the final weeks of his life. We ask that you join us in honoring his legacy by always choosing to lead with love.
And, as a final thought, I leave you with these words that were playing on the satellite radio on that final trip we took together from the boys in the Pearl Jam band:
"Don't it make you smile?
Don't you make me smile?
When the sun don't shine, it don't shine at all
Don't it make you smile?
I miss you already
I miss you always
I miss you already
I miss you all day
This is how I feeI miss you already
I miss you always"
Casanova James: we miss your already. We miss you always.
