Jadzia Dax Shakespeare Feathers came into our life September, 2000. We were doing Shakespeare at the Braeburn Farm Open Air Pavilion. I was Lady Macbeth. We were first on the program of six short Shakespeare pieces. Every night during rehearsals and performances the Macbeth witches policed up this tiny bit of grey fur with a giant purr. The little kitten was more than happy to sleep on anyone back stage. When it was time to strike the set and go home, the little waif was put in a carrier, taken to the cast party, then brought home. This explains where the Shakespeare part of her name comes from.
Once here at the house, she adopted Pickles as her best friend. It became apparent she was not our kitty. She was Pickles’ kitty. Though she was tiny she would attack Pickles at every opportunity. Then Pickles at easily three times her size would pin her down. Then there was crying and screaming and all sorts of drama. And then I would say to her, “If you’re gonna play with the big boys…” She would get loose and go after him again. And it would start all over again.
Pickles was our first fetch cat. He loved nothing more than a rolled up piece of paper tossed about 8 to 10 feet. He would chase it, play with it, and bring it back. Within reason. He always dropped it about four feet from me. And then begged me to throw it again. So I would have to get up, retrieve it, and the game would start over. Jadzia watched this one day. On about the fourth throw she beat Pickles to it. Put it in her mouth and ran it back to me. It was lots of fun to see who would get it first. Later they would be cuddled together on a chair fast asleep in each others’ paws.
Through the years they continued to be best buddies. Neither one belonged to us. They belonged to each other.
Pickles left us three years ago. He was about 18 years old. He had a much better life than the one he was born into. Robert rescued him from the prison (where he worked—he was not incarcerated!) He took him away from some inmates who were going to throw him in razor wire. https://susanaperkins.wordpress.com/2013/05/02/pickles-did-it/
Jazzy was never quite the same after that. For the last three years she has continued to look for him. And the last couple months of her life she slept on my shoulder at night. She got thinner and thinner but seemed very spry. Then one day she went AWOL for two days. When she came out it was obvious she had soiled herself, she was also walking in circles shaking her head. Robert took her to the vet one last trip.
We got her ashes back last week. It was about three tablespoons worth. As I had promised her I mixed some of her ashes with Pickles’ ashes. I have two boxes and they are about half and half of each kitty. So even in death they are together. And I understand they are both waiting for us at the Rainbow Bridge.