Rest in Peace, Jeremy Girard Dorsey a.k.a. "Jay" a.k.a. "Jason" a.k.a. "Lil' Head".. September 1996- November 29, 2005

I fell asleep on the sofa last night. I'd been working on Chapter 24 of my manuscript (after being threatened by one of my bootleg editors), watching Monday night football, and listening to the sounds of Miki Howard and Cherelle playing softly on my laptop computer...

I don't even remember going to sleep.

I woke up around 5:13 a.m., and felt like I had to go to the bathroom...

I tried to go in the bathroom from the hallway door but couldn't open it. I forgot that Jeremy, my 9-year-old orange tomcat, had taken to laying in the middle of the bathroom floor for the past couple of days.

"Jeremy, would you move?" I said with a sigh.

He usually growls loudly as a protest, but he usually gets up and moves out of the way.

This time, he didn't move.

I walked into my master bedroom to enter my bathroom through the spacesaver door that leads from the bedroom to the bathroom...

I turned on the light, but I didn't go in. Jeremy was laid out on the floor. He's about 2 and 1/2 feet long, so he was completely stretched out, mouth open with a yellow liquid coming out.

"Jeremy?" I called. I leaned down and looked at him.

No response. He wasn't moving.

"Jeremy, get up!" I yelled. "Please get up, boy!"

He didn't move.

I realized that he had died.

I looked at him and all around me for a few minutes not realizing what to do.

I went upstairs to my sister Kay's bedroom and lightly knocked on her door.

"Kay, Jeremy died sometime last night," I said quietly.

And then came the tears. "At least he's not suffering anymore, Lisa," she consoled.

It hurt so bad. She hugged me and told me that it was going to be alright.

"Do me a favor," I said. "Call Auntie for me." My Auntie has roughly nine cats, and has had to bury some over the years. (She'd just buried a brown tabby, Tigee, on Saturday-- Sorry for your loss, Auntie). I have never had to clean up a deceased animal, and I knew she would know what to do.

I walked back downstairs while Kay called Auntie. Kay gave me her cell phone. Auntie told me to find a box, line it with a towel, and put him in there. Then tape up the box and bury it in the backyard. I nodded and said "okay" through my tears, and gave the phone back to Kay.

I'd recently moved, so we had a few boxes out in the garage. I got one, line it with a big plastic bag, and then Kay and I picked Jeremy up and put him in the box. We wrapped him in the towels, and placed the box in a plastic bag. I put the box in the garage.

I think I will try to bury him before the weekend.

Jeremy had been sick for awhile. I took him to the vet back in September. Blood tests and X-rays showed that, although he was overweight (Jeremy weighed a hefty 21 pounds), he was pretty healthy (no diabetes, etc.). They kept in a hospital for a few days. Since they couldn't find anything wrong with him, I decided to bring him home so if he did die, he would die at home.

Once we moved, he seem alright for the month of October and part of November. He was running around the house, playing and fighting as usual with my other cat, Oscar Tyrone. I figured since he could run up and down the steps with ease, he must've been alright.

But he wasn't...

Approximately two to three weeks ago, he became lethargic and stopped eating. He would only sleep, and began vomiting a little. Then he stopped grooming himself, and began to smell a little. So I would dilute a little alcohol with water every few days and rub him down to freshen him up.

I didn't think Jeremy would be around much longer. He wasn't his usual grumpy self. He was just very very quiet.

On Sunday, he started acting real strange... Doing weird stuff like laying on the floor in the middle of the bathroom, or just sitting in a corner with his face to the wall. I knew he hadn't eaten much all week, but for some reason he would eat a little chopped up Thanksgiving turkey or macaroni and cheese. But he wouldn't eat anything on Monday morning. As a matter of fact, I hadn't seen him since then.

I didn't see him again until this morning... laid out on the bathroom floor.

So this post is a farewell to my beloved Jeremy Girard Dorsey, a.k.a. "Jay", a.k.a., "Jason", a.k.a. "Lil' Head"...

I had him for 9 years, every since I was in graduate school, living in Grant Park. I got him from my lil' brother Da'Kari, who was nine years old at the time. He thought that Jeremy could help with a mice problem I was having. Jeremy has lived all over Atlanta with me, and has even lived with me in New Orleans for a couple of years...

Jeremy is even the reason I stopped smoking weed. (Thank goodness for that!)

I've always looked at Jeremy and said "Damn boy... if you could talk, you would have a WHOLE lot of stories to tell about Oldgirl Ladylee :)"

So rest in peace "Lil' Head"! I will always remember you!

Ladylee