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| 1996 - 2011 |
I brought
you home from the vet hospital where I worked.
We were
married just six months then.
You were
homeless and so spunky,
With oversized
ocelot ears.
You made us
laugh with your brainless antics,
Your 100-mile-an-hour
silliness, and cross-eyed glances.
Through two
moves, two babies born, a Greyhound come and gone,
And always
with Skippy—your friend and nemesis,
You charmed
us with your jungle-cat strut and your statuesque beauty.
You were a princess. You had Mike wrapped
around your little pink toe.
We almost
lost you once before.
Mike slept
on the floor of the closet
All night,
his hand on you.
We nursed
you through—
Gave you
sub-q fluids and fed you with a syringe.
And you got
better.
We had four
more years with you, our little "Chickie."
Your bubble-gum
toes and cotton-ball feet.
The way you
laid “cute traps” we couldn’t resist.
Your
rabbit-soft coat, meticulously licked.
Your
demanding “feed me” mew.
Your lazy window-sill sunning, eyes half-closed.
Your rattley
purr in bed at night.
I’m sorry we
weren’t there for you, Jenga—
Our sweet,
slinky, shiny girl—
To hold you
through your peaceful passing.
| A letter Merrit wrote to Jenga when we first told him on Sunday that she was very sick. |
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| A memorial that Kara, our friend in NC, painted under the chair where she held Jenga for us until the very end. Thank you, Kara. |





