Now that April is steamrolling right ahead, I’m reminded that sometime this month – or right at the end of March thereabouts – Jack-Jack our orange tabby rescue cat made his grand appearance.
Now, we didn’t have him pop up on our radar until the tail end of May last year.
But, needless to say, he’s got a birthday somewhere and we’re quickly coming up to the day when Mom originally saved him from the harsh life available to all strays outside of city limits.
However, he was saved and we’ve made sure that the effort wasn’t in vain.
Jack-Jack has had all of his feline shots and been neutered to cut down on the other feral or stray cat populations and to keep from fighting too much with our other cats – Bones and Domino. Bones and Jack-Jack are roughly 18 months apart in age, so, they get along quite well and are either play fighting or dozing together around the house.
Recently, Jack-Jack has made it his goal to steal little things to either use them as toys or destroy outright – or, according to the amount of random junk ending up in my bedroom doorway – bringing little trophies to show them off.
The most annoying items on the list of pilfered and destroyed things include my toothbrush, two air plants, and a small American flag.
But, I’ve also seen him run off with all manner of extra plastic garbage, hand and body towels, socks, stolen Q-Tips, and even a dog toy or two if the mood really strikes him.
And despite the aggravation, Jack-Jack’s overall personality is finally maturing a bit.
He definitely seems keener to allow for pets at random, likes the occasional belly rub and taps humans with his paw to initiate petting sessions.
Honestly, I fully believe each of our pets have their own unique little personalities and am always keeping my fingers crossed that they continue to function in some sort of manner that’s harmony-adjacent rather than utter chaos.
Well, at least for the four-legged, furry freeloaders in the house – the chickens are a whole other matter entirely.
I’m not even sure if they have any sense of self outside of trying to graze their way across our six acres and stray into our neighbors’ properties while hunting bugs and all manner of crunchy or squishy treats.
The only halfway decent thing to happen to mom’s little flock recently was acquiring a new rooster finally.
We’d lost our former rooster to some predator and Mike mourned him far longer than I did – the rooster was terrible about abandoning his flock and honestly was pretty useless all the way around.
Honestly, it might sound a little cold, but we learned all about the “Circle of Life” growing up, so, it isn’t a great tragedy to lose an inept rooster as much as it is to lose a beloved companion.
And that does give me time to pause for a moment of reflection on mom’s 12-year-old blind miniature poodle Keechi – she’s definitely feeling her years and acting them.
I mean, she’s somewhere in her 70s in actual dog years, so she’s definitely earned her “senior citizen” status, but it’s still hard to watch a dog age from energetic and adorable puppy to a crabby and stubborn senior.
Still, I’ll be sad when she does pass on – mostly for mom and Mike that have had more time with her since the beginning and partially because the house will feel emptier without her attempts to use echolocation to get around the house.
