Jackson’s story.
posted in Cat Stories |We first met Jackson when he was about 4-5 years old in the summer of 1994. A full tom cat prowling round the neighbourhood with that regal confidence that cats seem to have. The trouble was, Jackson didn’t look like a king or a prince, he looked more like a compost heap!
His long black fur was matted and unkempt, his ears looked like patent leather with frayed edges, and he had no fur at all on his underside. In fact when I first met Jackson I was a bit scared of him.
As the weeks went by it became obvious that he was becoming a bit of a fixture, particularly at meal times, so we started to consider his future. Having recently lost two other stray cats to road accidents, we didn’t want the same thing to happen to him. But how would he react if we took him for ‘the operation’? We’d had cats neutered successfully in the past, but they had always been kittens. Jackson was a full grown male.
We started by taking him to the vet for a check up. He behaved impeccably. The vet said he was OK and that there was no reason why the operation shouldn’t be successful. We arranged to take him in the following day, but typically Jackson, who was normally as regular as clockwork at meal times, failed to arrive for his tea. I had to ring the vet to cancel, then Jackson turned up, so I had to ring again to say we were on our way.
It was a long 24 hours before we were able to go and collect him. We didn’t know what to expect. He’d never really been in the house properly before. Was he house trained? Would he hate us for what we’d done and just leave? How would he get on with our other cats? Only time would tell.
We opened the basket and let him out. The first thing he wanted was food. He then asked to go out. I opened the door and off he trotted. Would we ever see him again? I needn’t have worried. Within 20 minutes he was back. He came inside, walked into the sitting room for the first time and jumped on to my knee. And that’s just about where he stayed for the next 2 years. He did go out from time to time, but he just loved sitting on someone’s knee. It didn’t matter what you were doing, if you were sat down, to Jackson you were fair game.
As it turned out he was house trained, so we feel he must have had a home once before in his life, but perhaps they didn’t love him. The first time I threw a ping-pong ball for him to play with he hid behind the settee, perhaps the result of his life as an un-welcome visitor in peoples gardens, who knows, but he soon got the hang of it.
He also loved yoghurt. Fruit or plain, it didn’t matter, he could hear the foil lid being peeled back from several hundred yards. The fur on his ears and belly gradually returned and his coat became more manageable, acquiring a lovely chocolate brown tint that had previously been hidden from view. He just loved all the attention and TLC. We had 4 other cats, and although it’s fair to say they were never close to Jackson, they did tolerate him, and we all had a happy couple of years together.
Sadly Jackson died of kidney failure in the summer of 1996, but we will always remember him fondly, and often speak of him even now.
