His purr was a kazoo orchestra from another planet.

His eyes were green apples, sweet and scampish.

His love was the lantern that made everyone grin.

Jack was too many miracles to fit in one box.

“Was.” 

That word is tight and airless, with sharp edges. I am not ready to tell you what Jack was. I was ready to tell you that Jack is settling into a forever home. An AwesomeAdopter was already infatuated.

And can you blame him? If are are looking for one wonderful cat, you have many possibilities. But if you are looking for one cat who is all the wonderful, all at once, there is no contest. You need Jack.

You need the mandarin orange maestro with merry-go-round music in his throat. You need the long-legged listener who would run miles to be by your side. You need the wholesome comedian in mac-and-cheese stripes.

You need the Jack of all trades, master of all hearts.

We needed him. We still need him. That’s why I can’t quite write about what Jack was.

Jack was not his medical mysteries. Of course, there was an anatomical explanation for his loud larynx. No X-ray would admit the existence of a kazoo orchestra in there.

But charts are dull boxes. Jack had his own reasons for his psychedelic purr. No regular rumble could express his excitement. He was here, with us, and we were here, with him, and the old songs would not suffice.

It is good to make a joyful noise. It is better to invent noises that make everyone joyful.

Jack was not stingy. Many animals, most of them human, hoard their treasures. But Jack jumped at the chance to make everyone rich.

If you trudged through the lobby with sad eyes, Jack found you. He strummed his purr like a harp for your healing. If you waved a wand toy, Jack would not leave you standing there, even if he was tired or busy contemplating cheeseburgers. If anybody wanted to feel better, Jack was on the case.

But Jack was also not a cartoon. Though he was more adorable than anything Disney ever drew, Jack had depth and dignity. He could be peaceful at the center of attention or philosophizing alone. He exulted in the booming oom-pah-pah of affection, then savored spacious hours of stillness. His favorite hobby was “all of them.”

His song was strong, bounding over each chorus and bridge to the next miraculous moment.

Now we are squinting over the bridge, straining our ears for one last encore.

Jack’s diagnosis was never definitive. We worked for the best, knowing each day was a gift. He returned the favor, piling our lives with more gifts than we could carry.

Painted in the warmest color, he was never too cool to tell us how he felt. If you were in Jack’s life, you were the apple of his eye. He led the orchestra, but he wanted more than just an audience. He would pull you out of the pit to dance with him on stage.

He did not leave us in the pit, even though he had to leave us.

Jack’s final illness was mercifully swift. A brief siege of vomiting and respiratory distress sent Jack to our emergency vet. Within a few hours, the coda had come. There is solace in knowing he was spared a long decline. We are all still breathless with shock.

Breathless, but not boxed in.

Jack opened worlds for all who loved him. Now that those lids have been lifted, there is no crawling back inside. Our ears are alert to echoes from another world.

Our hearts are open, which is worth being broken.

Jack was one of the truest friends we have ever known. No. This lifetime is a box too small. Jack is one of the great loves of our lives. Forever.

Jack’s unforgettable purr, as captured by his dear friend Allison (Board member and volunteer):

Video by Jack’s dear friend Kelly (staff member):

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