The end of an era

This is Bassie’s mom. I have some very sad news to report.

Jami on ladderOn Monday, 19 August, our beloved Jami was killed by a car. He ran out the front door unno­ticed when my hus­band got home that evening. When he hadn’t come back by the next morn­ing, we started search­ing the neigh­bor­hood. We found him a cou­ple of blocks away. He had jumped over the fence in the back of the house and met his end on a main street of our area.

Jami and Samson

My hus­band tells me I shouldn’t feel guilty. Jami was always try­ing to go out. He just adored hunt­ing lizards in the gar­den and he was very good at it. He was very fast and often we real­ized he had gone out only because we missed him at home.
Whenever we knew he had got­ten out, we always fetched him back in. Even had I known that he was out­side, find­ing a cat in the dark in an area of sev­eral blocks square is next to impos­si­ble. Still, I feel that, in the end, I failed Jami because I didn’t pro­tect him, and for that fail­ure I beg fore­give­ness from all who helped bring Jami to us.


Jami came to us through the effort of many peo­ple on Sunday, 28 Oct 2012. In the barely ten months he was with us, he worked his way deep into our hearts and we feel his loss keenly. He was “Motor Mouth,” “Fat Boy,” “Jami Kitty,” “Fat Red,” and many other endear­ments. He talked our ears off. He made us laugh. He cut off our cir­cu­la­tion when he draped his sev­en­teen mama with catspounds over our legs in bed. He was best friends with Samson. He begged food and cud­dles from my Alzheimer mom. He enjoyed curl­ing up in her wheel­chair on top of the gel anti-​​pressure-​​sore cush­ion. He slept on her bed and cud­dled with Java there. He was a favorite with the ladies who help take care of my mom.

I tell myself that he died quickly and that he will never expe­ri­ence the aches and ill­nesses of old age and chronic dis­ease. His life here was a good and happy one. He gave and received love. That may all be true; I have to believe it is true. Nonetheless I feel bereft and bereaved.