JACK DAWSON

One weekend in January of 1997 I saw Titanic twice in the theaters and went to the exhibit in St. Petersburg. Remember when you came meowing at my door only a day or two later? Then again another night that week you came in all wet and soggy, so I toweled you off and you crawled onto my chest and slept. I had just moved into my first apartment; I hadn’t even unboxed most of my things when I opened the front door and you walked right into my kitchen like I was supposed to feed you. Did the previous tenants abandon you? Well, I gave you everything I had the moment you stepped into my life. All I had that first night was some awful minute-pasta, on which you gladly nibbled. The next few days, all I thought I had was a rubber check to take you to the vet for your shots and neuter. I thought, “Either this check will bounce or the rent check will, but one way or another, I’m going to take care of you”. Luckily, the money came in for both. And we were set for a life of love.

Human roommates came and went, and they all loved you. Althea, Becky, Kurt, Jen…all of them. One day, you had to go to my mom’s (GM) when I went on tour and when I returned, I decided it might be better if you stayed with her because you had already bonded with her cats. However, after a day of hard play, you tore your meniscus and the vet told GM to separate you from the other cats so you could heal, like kitty rehab. That’s when your favorite human came into the picture and he was your Daddy forever.  

Richard Daniel Sego, not originally fond of felines (and allergic!), reluctantly took you in only on the condition that you would go back to GM’s as soon as you healed. As a massage therapist, he took good care of your little muscles and tendons; the faster you could heal, the sooner you could go back to GM’s. Well THAT sure backfired on him! His allergy subsided and all that rubbing made you crave, no, DEMAND, his massages. You got better and soon followed him around wherever he went, like a little puppy. Daddy started calling you “Puppy” and he couldn’t help but be an incredibly loving, sensitive, and attentive Papa; he didn’t want you to go back to GM’s. So you stayed, for good.

We moved into our first house, which was where you lived for the rest of your life. You brought us mousies, howling at the top of the stairs to announce your “kill”, then jumped in bed and crawled on top of us to go to sleep. Remember when Daddy thought something was wrong because you were howling? I just laughed! “Daddy doesn’t know you yet!” Nearly every night thereafter, 20 minutes after the lights went out, the howling began and the hallway was like a toy mouse graveyard in the morning!

You were so predictable; as soon as one of us was prone, you were there crawling on our chests purring your little grey and white head off. You loved your ears to be rubbed, and your chin to be scrubbed.

A pen cap or hair pin gave you a good eye-rubbing when a fingernail just wouldn’t cut it. All we had to do was hold it and you would “poke your eyes out” on it.

Your favorite game was to play chase around the house, and you sometimes hopped around like a little jack-rabbit. You’d run back and forth, sometimes chasing us, sometimes we chased you. But it always ended in an affectionate rub session.

You loved the tummy rubs, and you loved to gnaw on feet and hands then give ‘em a good licking.

You loved stinky shoes and toes.

You loved your pink-handled brush and when it was time to get the fur off, you came running for it!

You were Alpha; little Franny always submitted at the food bowl and sometimes she held her own in a scrap, when you let her. But you loved each other, too. She would clean your head, and you would clean hers.  You were even caught snuggling a few times, on camera!

Even though you were Alpha, you still ran when something scared you, and we always protected you and made you feel safe.

You had the cutest little meow, and occasionally looked like you swallowed your head when you yawn-meowed.

If you pawed at the blinds to go out and we said “no” you chirped at us argumentatively. Sometimes we gave in.

“Floppin’ ‘ze kitty” was our phrase when you did your little head-bobble-into-a-flop-on-the-floor, enticing us to play with you.

There are a million funny little things you did and I wish I could remember them all right now, but the best thing you ever did was love us unconditionally. You were the opposite of what most people think of cats: affectionate, playful, and always there waiting for us to come home.

When you got sick with kidney disease and you were in the hospital for 5 days straight, I just knew you’d come out of it, with the help of Dr. Thieverge at Cypress Creek Animal Hospital, and Dr. Wilson in his absence, and all of the caring staff. Nearly every week for a year and a half you got your fluids. With a lot of love and attention, you pulled through and lived like a kitten again.

Then the day came when your Daddy had to go away. That was only last week, and it was as if the world fell down around you. A respiratory infection put you in the hospital for three days, and after coming home for two, you just lost your appetite and your energy. You lost the fight.

We will love you forever, Jackers. You were my boy. You were Daddy’s boy. You were GM’s grand boy. You were loved by so many because you knew how to love so well.

Rest in Peace, Jack Dawson Bach-Sego

January 15, 1996?-May 18, 2012