My Cat, Jasmine

By Lucy

Back in June 2021, I answered a call from the RSPCA asking if I was interested in adopting a kitten they had in their care, her name was Jasmine. While I had enquired about adopting a cat a couple of weeks prior, I was slightly apprehensive when the opportunity arose because I had no previous experience with cats. The woman on the phone described her appearance and personality: approximately three months old, tortoiseshell, petite. She was rescued along with her mother and siblings, she was the only one remaining and apparently thrived on her own. She asked me if I would like a photo emailed over, which I was happy to oblige. Upon receiving the photo, I couldn’t say no to adopting her; she was beautiful. She had cartoonishly large ears and vibrant green eyes, her head was tilted at an inquisitive angle.

A couple of weeks later I collected her, she cried all the way home in the car. As a kitten, she loved to play with a pink stick feather, often dragging it around the house. Jasmine liked to set her boundaries, she enjoyed a fuss but would bite or scratch to warn you that she’d had enough, she wasn’t always the friendliest cat (especially to visitors) but I knew she loved me in her own way.

It was always nice to return from work and be greeted by her at the door, or to hear her meowing as she elegantly pranced through the cat flap. She enjoyed bringing me the ‘presents’ she had collected while on her travels, once I discovered a rat so large that I questioned how she managed to drag it through the cat flap. Sometimes, when I would spend slightly too long sitting in the car, I would hear a thud and see a friendly face staring down at me through the windshield; I still haven’t brought myself to clean the roof of my car, her paw prints are still slightly visible.

In November 2025, two days before my Birthday, I discovered that Jasmine had been killed by a vehicle. Coincidentally, I was already at the vets with my friend (whom I drove there with her poorly kitten). In the waiting room, I remembered that my phone was vibrating in my pocket while driving, only to realise that it was the same veterinary practice. When I enquired at the reception, they asked me to sit down and I was called into a clinic room. Upon hearing this information, I broke down, I said I would be in touch about cremation.

Waking up the and remembering you no longer have a cat is harrowing, I was sent home from work about an hour after starting and decided call the vets to arrange for Jasmine’s body to be collected - I wanted to bury her under her favourite bush. I’ll never forget how cold and stiff she was under the blankets; they strongly advised me to not view her. The following days were difficult and my Birthday wasn’t very good, I didn’t even open any presents in the morning. Local social media posts about Jasmine’s body in the road led me to believe that, not only was she killed, she was left in the middle of the road for other motorists to drive over too. I know she was already dead at that point, but she deserved respect. Her death was unnecessarily cruel and undignified, she was merely roadkill to so many people that night. Despite this, a kind woman collected her from the road and took her to the vet straight away, which I am immensely thankful for.

A change in the law probably wouldn’t have saved Jasmine, however, it would have prevented her from being disregarded in the middle of the road like she was nothing. The driver absolutely should have stopped, but I still wonder how many others saw her and did nothing about it. People were posting about her on Facebook groups but didn’t think to (at least) move her out of the road. Jasmine’s treatment in death is quite symbolic of how wider society views cats in general, really.

Jasmine’s death is likely something I’ll never truly move on from, it was premature and untimely, I simply didn’t spend enough time with her. Now her life has been reduced to some fur in a bottle and a paw print mould… that’s all I have left of her. I’ll never get another opportunity to give her ham from the fridge, hear her meow, or see her beautiful colours.