Jackie's story while horrifying, is one of courage, determination, and miracles that can happen if you just keep trying..  He is a shining example of faith winning over adversity; a miracle of trust.  His full name is One Eyed Jack and he was mess.

While Suzanne was walking through a construction site she heard a faint meow.  When she investigated all she could see was one little paw sticking out from under a pile of lumber where he'd gone to hide -  to die in solitude and safety. In a last desperate bid  for help  from the humans that had hurt him so terribly, he'd heard her and had had just enough strength and faith left to put forward a small, trembling white paw - still trusting enough in the goodness of humanity to beg for help, one last time.

When the doctor examined him he wasn't sure Jackie would make it. He was only hours from starvation, weighed about 3 pounds, had once had an eye surgically removed, there was a pin in his shoulder where it had been broken and set; he had arthritis in most of his joints, the other shoulder was dislocated, his claws wouldn't retract all the way, there was a severe cut on his nose, his jaw had been broken at one time, his fur was matted and dull, and couldn't meow above a whisper.  

We will never know what Jackie's story is...whether he was an escaped lab cat or a treasured house pet that was lost, is anyone's guess.  The surgery he'd  had done is very expensive...yet he was lost and starving, totally alone and afraid.  Did he jump from a motor home passing through the area? He hadn't lost his trust of humanity - would a lab cat still trust? 

We keep Jackie apart from the other cats because, like little children, they will pick on one who is different...all but gentle Sam.  Sam is allowed in and out of the room with Jackie, and gradually he's getting used to the idea that maybe he's REALLY safe at last, and other cats won't automatically try to hurt him. We've recently allowed other cats that need a "quiet" room to join him and he's not as afraid as he was at first. Poor little Stinky was the first in need of a recovery room, and Jackie is gradually getting used to his role as guardian/nurse/watcher. Spike was a regular boarder with him, too. Jackie needed a friend and Spike was our gentle giant, full of love for everyone.

After a almost four years, Jackie is sleek-furred again, has put on a few pounds (he's up to normal weight now at about 8 pounds), his one eye is bright and alert, and he leads a quiet, if boring, life in a separate room. He can sniff the breezes and look out the window at the world that treated him so harshly from the safety of a chair made soft with quilts piled high for his comfort. He frightens easily, doesn't trust most people to be near him, runs - limping - from strange cats, but boy! you should hear him purr when it's quiet, late at night.

January 2006

Jackie has gone ahead and is waiting for me at the bridge. My heart is aching; he was such a sweet-tempered little cat...so brave and strong. His will to live out stretched his pain for way too long. He'd been getting steadily thinner and thinner and then had an abscess burst and it wouldn't heal. That was the final blow to a gallant fight for life. He died in his favorite spot on the bed, my tears falling over him and my hand on his warriors heart. He's whole again, now, and young and strong and waiting for me on the other side. You are the bravest cat imaginable; an example of heart and courage over pain. I will hold your example in my heart as a model for my life. I love you, Jackie....wait for me.