Our Friend, Mr. Littlejeans

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After battling lung cancer for over two years I am sad to report that Mr. Littlejeans died last night. He had been getting around just fine and being his usual weird and lovable self but over the past several days his condition quickly worsened, and he was having a hard time moving much without triggering uncontrollable coughing spells, leaving him completely exhausted. Saturday night he slept, as he always has, on Emily's pillow, hugging her head. When I got up in the morning, he woke up as he always does and meowed at me – he always seemed so excited to get up in the morning and follow me around the apartment. He couldn't do that yesterday – we knew things were getting worse and discussed the possibility of having him put down so as not to prolong his suffering. Jeans was a very dignified cat and he would not have wanted to lose control of himself or become someone different because of his sickness. In the end we didn't have to do that – he died on his own. We are thankful that he went quickly without much suffering.

I know a lot of people might not understand this about a cat, but our friends, and friends of the blog, know what a difficult loss this is for us. Jeans has been with us through everything.

We got him in 1999 not long after we moved to New York. Emily had started law school and was spending long hours studying in our dark Hell's Kitchen apartment, and we thought a cat would be a nice companion. We could not have been more right about that.

He was born in the Bronx and when he was a kitten, his first owner died. The body was not discovered for a week or so, at which time it was removed – but Jeans was left there alone, to fend for himself. A week later, someone heard him meowing behind the door and got the super to let her in.

He ended up at an animal shelter down the street from us on 9th Avenue. He was sick when we got him but he recovered quickly. He never did get over the stomach problems we think were formed from his early life in the Bx (no vet ever figured out why he continued to gain weight, even on the diet food prescribed to him).

Without going into every last detail of his life I will just say that Jeans always seemed to consider himself an equal – he actively wanted to be around us as much as possible and we were always glad he was. He moved with us from Hell's Kitchen to Carroll Gardens (shaking all over as we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge in a cab); four years later he moved with us to Fort Greene, where he experienced the wilds of our small backyard. Four years after that, he sat between my brother and me in his favorite "Smile Face" box as we drove a moving truck across the country to Seattle.

We have just been through so much with him, it is hard to imagine life without him now. I know that sounds dramatic and I know everything will get back to normal, but for now we are just sad that our friend is gone.

More pictures of the Jeans here.