The Transitional Cat: Jeter/Carol
The long joyous tale of an orange cat
We were stuck and we needed a bigger house for our blended family. Our stomping ground in Annandale had big houses but they were not in our price range. We decided to get out of our comfort zone and see what we could find.
I recall seeing a house in Willoughby, NSW, which was suitable but I walked in and the garden and the home were so sedate I said, “I could feel myself die here.”
103 Greenwich Road was up for sale and we decided to have a look. As you can see from the floor plan 103 was a sprawling affair. The property was mostly house with a bit of garden out front and and a smallish backyard for entertaining. Julie and I did not think we would end up in conventional Greenwich and doubted we would find ourselves living there. It ticked many of our boxes as far as size and price so we headed over to have a look.
This house had room to move for all of us and little did we know was that it had heart and soul. It was also 100 meters away from the Greenwich strip of shops which gave us a semblance of urban living on this peninsula of green and some really expensive waterfront properties. We soon found out how conservative the neighbourhood was when we noticed that ass hat of a Prime Minister, you know the guy with the eyebrows, frequented our local fish and chips shop, Hooked.
It was a sunny Saturday and we walked into 103 Greenwich Road. We were astonished by the long hallway with painted pink walls and the red carpeting that was in many of the rooms upstairs and down. Julie described the hallway later that day as if you were walking down a birth canal.
Julie and I had met via a Rolling Stones Concert in 2003. It was a big part of our story. As we walked into the lounge room there was a picture of The Stones and in another bedroom, Mick, Bob Marley and Peter Tosh looked down at us with their stoned eyes.
The looks of astonishment on both of our faces said it all. Besides that weird ass synchronicity, the owner of the house had also raised 6 kids there. She had adopted some or the majority of them from an earthquake-ravaged Central American country. Our beloved blended family story was just a blip compared to what this woman had accomplished.
I whispered to Julie, “Is this some sort of setup, or is it destiny?” We were slightly freaked out by what we were experiencing.
There were too many signs showing us that this was our new home. It was not long before we were making an offer.
We bought the house in 2007 and we lived there for 7 years.
We lived on the busiest road in a very leafy and quiet suburb. The Busch-Catt Clan had migrated from the left-leaning Inner West of Sydney to the conservative peninsula of Greenwich. Greenwich was just over the Sydney Harbour Bridge as you headed North out of the city. We did not think it was that far away from our friends and haunts. We soon learned that many people thought you needed a passport and a couple of visas to visit us. We also did not make many long-lasting friends in that suburb. We were the freaks and we were far from freaky in our minds.
Let us fast forward a bit to 2009 and an unexpected visit.
Our sprawling house was quiet. Bernie was sleeping on the couch with me and I think one of the cats was doing the same on the big red Love Sac. Or it might have been pissing on it as they seemed to be fond of it. Maybe I had baseball on the big screen, and I was relaxing in a moment of solitude. I was home alone.
There was a knock on the door. Upon opening the front door I was greeted by the sight of an attractive couple who did not appear to be friends of Jehovah or have any badges on them collecting money for Greenpeace or any other charity.
They introduced themselves as Tim and Monique and they lived a few houses up the street.
“Do you own an orange cat?”, Monique asked.
My heart sank. People do not usually knock on your door and ask if you have a cat unless it has been involved in a losing battle with a car. As I said, we lived on a well-travelled street.
“Yes, we do”, I said.
Monique continued a bit tentatively.
“Well, she has been coming down to our house. She is a beautiful cat and she has been coming into our house and hanging around,” she said.
My mood lifted as I knew Jeter was not a pancake.
“Hold on a second, first off, she is a he, and his name is Jeter”, I laughed.
“Oh, we have been calling him Carol”, she laughed.
“Have you been feeding him/her”, I asked with a smile.
Of course, they had been feeding Jeter. Monique and Tim were childless at this stage, and they adopted my gorgeous cat because I think their hormones were clucky and in need of something small and playful before they started breeding. I was happy that at least he still identified as a cat.
We also had Moose and Robbie to keep us company. We had been a 3 cat family.
Let me set the stage a bit more.
Jeter had been doing well with the initial move to his new home. It did not take long for the next-door neighbour’s cat, Zorro, to commence bullying him. We would hear them hissing and growling as they arched their backs and had a showdown on the roof of the house next door. This went on for a while and you could sense that Jeter was not happy. Jeter began to wander. Enter Tim and Monique, they were like Mother Teresa to our unhappy feline.
In addition to a quieter home, they had food!
We talked for a while and I said I was happy for them to keep feeding Jeter and he could come and go as he liked. If he found life better with them, I would be happy for him and gave them my blessing.
I loved that cat. I mean I really loved that cat. You know what they say about setting something free.
I felt it was the best thing for him at that point in his cat career.
Almost from that point on Jeter became Carol. The first trans cat in Greenwich if not the world. Carol was well looked after and deeply loved. Tim or Monique would corner me on the street and ask me if I wanted to see pictures of Carol, ahhh, Jeter. I laughed and jokingly gave them a hard time about stealing my cat. I had plenty of pictures.
Simply though, I was happy for the cat and Tim and Monique. We saw Jeter once in a while but he took to the new house like a cat to sardines. I could hear him purring.
Fast forward again, like a tape machine, to 2024. It has been 48 hours since I received a new aortic valve, and I am recovering in the Intensive Care Unit of Epworth Hospital in Richmond. I am on some serious drugs for the pain. I am happily enjoying the ride even though my sternum is a bloody mess.
My SMS notification pings.
“Dear Paul, well hello. Long time between drinks. I’ve actually just discovered the above text -I completely missed at the time. It was only 4 years ago though-surely this is some sort of record. For some reason I didn’t have your number correctly saved in my phone. I got your number from Julie. Could you give me a call when you can? Love always-Monique-Feline Thief xx
Call me Columbo, but I did not think Monique was calling me to be on Weekend Sunrise or to talk about the weather. I knew she was calling about Carol.
I called her back immediately and we chatted. She gave me the news that Carol had transitioned once again. We could have talked for an hour or 15 minutes. I can recall Monique thanking me and I have no memory of what I said. My memory of those first 48 hours post-surgery were impacted by the warm hug of fentanyl.
Monique did not want me to forget. And I had actually forgotten about this text message from her until a few days ago. At the time I had received it I had shared it with my partner Tina and my daughter Freya when they visited. This makes me cry each time I read it.
Dearest Paul,
I’m so sorry to have called you in ICU. Especially what with the Sparrow you have had to contend with flying around. (Darn health system turned to wrack and ruin…. )
I don’t know if you will remember any of what I said but I wanted to make sure when you look back on this - you know just how grateful I am for your selflessness. Eternally grateful. It took an extremely evolved person to have handed him over. Especially as I know you loved him. Add to that his trans-evolution into Carol. And you accepted it all with grace and humour and your wonderful warm, larger than life personality. Which beams through - even after open heart surgery!
He was truly a Prince among Cats.. Royalty… soulful, sensitive, clever, intuitive, funny. We were -and continue to be - completely besotted and obsessed with him.
I will forever be grateful for such selflessness you showed.
He has been my soul mate for the past 15 years. He travelled everywhere with me- I smuggled him into hotels, homes, even work trips. He has done 8 moves with me. 3 with you. That’s a lot for a cat! Seen me thru the end of a marriage, breastfeeding in the night for 6 years with so many children, instrumental in the happiness of now being part of a very big blended family.
He bought only love and positivity into our lives. There was no negative with Carol. Only light. He had all the characteristics we humans strive for. He had it all. We know why the Pharaoh’s treated cats as Gods. We worshipped Carol. Dignified and with poise to the end. His presence was mammoth and remains with us.
The smallest member of a household of 10 - has left the biggest hole. Never to be filled. I feel broken.
He was a love of a lifetime for me.
And really that’s because of you.
I’ll never ever forget what you did and what an extraordinary person you are.
We love you Jeter. X
RIP Jeter. You were a fabulous furry friend and you brought love to our family and your adopted family.
Magic certainly does happen.
