Remembering Jack and June

Well, it is definitely time to present a proper memorial for my cats, Jack and June. The tale of their passing is beyond the appropriateness of my blog but suffice it to say that living with incontinence and an overactive vomiting reflex in a house that is on the real estate market earns you a one-way ticket to Kitty Kovorkian.



We rescued "Junie" from the Humane Society in June 1991. Immediately, she got sick and we nursed her back to health with kitty antibiotics and eye drops. We think these torturous medication-dispensing episodes made her into the volatile firecracker that she became. June taught the family that she would be affectionate on "her terms". From attacking Lauren's little legs as she passed through the living room to snuggling up at your feet in bed, our Junie was a tough one to predict. Only with time did we begin to read Junie's body language to determine what emotion she might choose next. Another mystery of this cat was her predilection for loud noises, curling up on my sheet music as I blared my trumpet or trotting across rooms to be in the bathroom as one of us belted in the shower. June probably used all nine of her lives, near-death experiences including her initial life-threatening sickness and falling out of a second-story window of our house (landing on her side, proving that cats do not always land on their feet). Ah, June was my baby and she will be missed.




Jack was chill from day one. Dad and I got him unexpectedly on Natalie's prom day in March 1993 as we were grabbing some food for June at the pet store. His white boots and gray "go-tee" attracted us to him. "And June really needs a friend", we thought. We surprised the family and Natalie's prom date with "Jack". Lauren got paddled for putting him too close to the date's tuxedo. Though initially tangling over territory, Jack and June became fast friends. Jack's calm nature was contagious and June found herself hunting rodents instead of helpless children's arms and legs. Jack was solely responsible for ending the rodent problem on our lot and presented every disemboweled creature to our doorstep. He had less success keeping his coat free of burrs and dirt from his wilderness expeditions and at one point recently had to be shaved to clean the "mat" that was his coat. He became known as "landing strip" during this period, with a wide rectangle shaved out of his back fur. Jack was Mr. Affectionate and enjoyed literally being in the middle of whatever you were doing, whether schoolwork, play, or sleep. Even his warbly "meow" and incessant pawing at any closed door seem endearing now.

In the couple of times I have been home since the cats are gone, I find myself still opening the basement door to make sure they have access to both floors or checking the deck door, thinking I hear Jack crying to be brought inside. Living without them is certainly surreal. Jack and June were truly family and saying good-bye to these loved-ones (however feline) is not easy.

In remembrance and celebration of your lives, Huskins cats...

June 1991-2008; Jack 1993-2008