Jazzie was so miserable being kept inside all of the time I started letting her in the back yard when I was going to be out. The warm sun and grass made her happy. There were feral cats in the area, and I didn’t want her to tangle with them. She has no idea they could do her harm. Mocha, Jazzie and I spent lunch outside and we’d go out for a while after work. She was content spending time in the yard but longed to be playing in the woods and following Furball.
We were only in our new house a few months when we had carpet scheduled to be installed upstairs. Furball was out. Jazzie and Mocha were confined downstairs. It was noisy and the carpet layers were in and out the back door. Jazzie disappeared. I couldn’t find her anywhere. Greg came up to me and told me Jazzie got out somehow. Apparently, she saw the field across the street and made a run for it, unaware of road hazards. She was hit by a car and killed instantly. I was devastated. How could she have gotten out? I wanted to see her, but Greg didn’t let me. He buried her on the hill where she could look over the field and us. Our brilliant shooting star burned out all too quickly.