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Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

1K followers 1.4K following 410 posts

San Francisco-based pianist, composer, music educator, arranger, film scorer, aspiring app developer.

Also, cat and dog magnet, Stanford Women's Basketball lifer, sci-fi/fantasy/thriller/comedy addict.

https://www.jakesmolowe.com

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Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

I wrote a letter to Lyra. It was something I think I've needed to do for a while (full letter in the alt text).

Note: spoilers for a key scene in His Dark Materials/The Amber Spyglass, so if you haven't read or watched the series or book and plan to, skip this (or at least the 4th large paragraph)!

Lyra’s resting murder face, and the very first portrait mode photo I ever took.

Lyra.

My sweet girl. It's been 3 1/2 months since you left this earth, and I miss you so much. So goddamn much. I don't know how I expected this to go, but living without you is so much more difficult than I ever imagined. Even with over a year to prepare myself, through all the kidney disease treatments, the cancer diagnosis, the anticipatory grief of knowing our time would run out sooner rather than later, I still wasn't ready. Turns out anticipatory grief, while painful in its own way, just doesn't compare to the utter devastation that comes with the simple truth that you're never coming back.

I'm writing this to you now because I don't know what else to do. I've tried so many things to cope with your absence. I've been to therapy. I've listened to sad music, uplifting music, happy music, angry music. I wrote you a song and improvised you another. I talked to a friend who had gone through this before, and I gave advice to another friend who is going through it currently. I read/listened to a picture book on pet loss, "The Invisible Leash." That one was sweet and beautiful. I listened to a grownup book on grief, "Grief is Love," and that one
actually helped for like a week. Losing myself in a book or a TV show helps, too - but only until I put the book down or turn off the TV. That's the thing. All of these things help, some of the time, for a while. But nothing helps consistently, on a long-term basis.

The (grownup) grief book taught me that there isn't really a timeline for grief and that every grief experience is different, and that it's OK to be not totally OK for a long time, maybe forever. This is normal, and the depth of the hurt that I'm feeling now is reflective of the profundity of the love I felt — that I will always feel - for you. The love that you brought to me. I know all of this, intellectually.

And it's not like I haven't experienced loss before. I've lost friends, family members, people who meant the world to me, other pets, and those losses hurt terribly, sometimes for a long
time, but for each of them, I rode the waves of sadness and came out the other side. I always found a way to make it through. This time? I feel like I'm drowning. I feel like your namesake in the Amber Spyglass, being torn away from Pan as she crosses the water into the Land of the Dead. That scene has always resonated with me, but I never realized that one day I'd be in the middle of it. I'll never be whole again without you.

Why is this different? I think it's because, for the 13 years we spent together, you were always there. It doesn't feel quite right, reading on the couch, without you sitting next to me or on my lap purring. Even if, at the end of the day, you weren't the most convenient book rest (definitely the softest, furriest though).

Watching TV is just not the same when I can't see you in the bottom my field of view, curled up in your little DVR cubbyhole that had to be the least comfortable bed in existence. Yes, I understand that it is very warm and you loved it, I'm still going to laugh.

Using the Theragun is a lot less fun when I don't have to actively dodge you because you absolutely MUST protect me from that mean, loud device. I kept trying to tell you it was helping me; you never learned, though. And honestly, I never wanted you to. Having a 5-6 lb. girl cat defend you from a massage gun is every 41-year-old romantic guy's dream.

Feeding time is definitely less chaotic. Your brother is quite the chaos monster all by himself, but the two of you together were something else, especially when you both decided that you only wanted *each other's* food, and neither of you were allowed to have it. Constantly swapping bowls and/or cats is a thing of the past, but damned if I don't miss it. It's quieter now at mealtime, but not as interesting.

I even miss having a negotiation with you every time I had to walk down the stairs. I certainly understand that you exclusively wanted to walk directly in front of me, one step at a time (only when prompted), but that made it rather difficult to navigate a staircase, especially when holding laundry baskets! Some choice words were exclaimed on my part on more than one occasion. All I can say is, you weren't called Lyra Underfoot for nothing.

I miss the little things too, like how you used to hear me scratch your scratcher bed and dash up the stairs at full speed because how DARE I, only YOU were allowed to scratch it. Or how you used to run halfway down the stairs and then bunny hop down the last few steps when you got excited for food (see? you COULD take stairs quickly! I knew it!).

How you went absolutely nuts for catnip toys, and would hold onto them for dear life if I tried to take them away. How, when placed atop your favorite faux fur blanket, you would seem to fall into a fugue state, oblivious to your surroundings, kneading as you paced aimlessly. How, each time you woke up when your mom or I came upstairs, you would reach out and try to get us, even though we were several feet away.

I miss the sounds. The little double thunk noise of you jumping off the bed upstairs to come greet me every time I opened my office door. The windshield wiper noise of your paws on the door asking to be let in. The little squeak at the end of your meow when I picked you up.

I miss how, when you were dozing, you would swish your tail a bit every time I said your name, how you would start purring instantly when I put my hand or face up next to you. I miss that last one a whole fricken lot. I'm grateful I have the sound of your purr recorded, so I can still hear you sometimes.

I miss all of these things and so much more.

What I miss the most, though, where I feel your absence the hardest, is bedtime. I deeply miss falling asleep with you curled up next to me. I miss your warmth; it's just way too cold with you gone. I miss how feeling your fur would calm me down at night when I was anxious. I have a lot more trouble these days letting go of stressful thoughts. I miss hearing you and your brother purr in stereo as I closed my eyes — everything right in the world.

You fit just right in the crook of my arm, and even though I could be grumpy and tussy about how you positioned yourself and where you placed your paws (the armpit was not ideal), I was always grateful when you wanted to be there. It was so comforting, knowing that at some point during the night, you would walk up to my pillow, nudge my arm with your paw, and wait for me to lift up the covers so you could crawl underneath and nuzzle up against me. Sometimes, if you went to bed before me, I would scoop you up and bring you under the covers. If I was lucky, you would stay; if not, that was OK because I knew you'd be back later. If I fell asleep with you elsewhere (on your mom's legs, or in your favorite closet hiding spot), you'd be there when I woke up, in my arms or pressed against my back. It's that feeling I miss the most—that sense of confidence, that no matter what else happened in my day, no matter what anxiety dreams I had to face at night, I would wake up with you and feel all right. You brought me so much peace, little one, during those times of day when my mind often felt like a hurricane.

So much is different since you left. But also, so much has changed since you arrived. When you showed up in my backyard on that cold November afternoon, I was living alone, in a relationship that was growing but still young - not even a year old, younger than you were. The only thing I was certain of when it came to pets was that I wasn't responsible enough to take

care of a living creature by myself. Not that you cared. You waltzed into my house with a single meow while I was otherwise occupied with laundry.

"You're not my cat," I said, bewildered and amused, as I put you outside and continued to load up the washer. And so you ran off into the yard next door. But then, 4 hours later, with night fallen and the cold sharpening, you came back. Letting out a more urgent meow from the cover of darkness, you dashed through my open back door once again, and this time I knew I wouldn't be putting you outside. Not in the darkness, not in the cold. You were staying with me that night.

I didn't have cat food or a bowl for you, so I gave you a slice of meatloaf in a small Tupperware container. You were so excited you pushed that container all around the kitchen floor, purring as you scarfed down your dinner. That was the moment that I fell in love with you, when everything changed.

I did the responsible thing, getting you a health checkup and microchip scan (you were healthy, already spayed, but no microchip), putting up ads online in case anyone was looking for you, and searching the neighborhood for lost cat posters with your face on them. Days went by and nothing turned up; no one answered the ads. I took them down. If no one was putting in the effort to find you, then they didn't deserve to have you. You were mine — or more accurately, I was yours.

How do I sum up 13 years of love and companionship? The truth is, I can't. I just know that I am so grateful for what you gave me, all of the cuddles and the zaniness, the resting murder face, the flicking tail even as you purred on my lap (you had a unique ability to seem both annoyed and content simultaneously), the comfort when I was down, the funny noises, the sheer joy when you got the crazies and played with me. What an honor, to be chosen by a sweet girl like you, before I even knew I was ready to care for you. Just the best privilege of my life, sharing those years with you. You taught me so much, and I can't believe that our time is over now.

I want you to know how proud I am for how much of a fighter you were in your last year. Both your mom and I are. You told CKD stage 4 to go fuck itself and got yourself downgraded to stage 3, and then survived 8 more months. You survived cancer for 6 months, and survived a mass removal surgery that the vets initially recommended against because of your age and
kidney issues, before changing their tune. Every moment that you weren't actively being given IV fluids (which you hated unfortunately), you just went about your normal life like a champ, cancer and kidney disease be damned, until your final week. You did so, so well, and in the end cancer was just too much of an asshole for you to overcome. I know you're not in pain anymore, and that gives me some peace.

Your mom and I miss you every day. Your brother misses you as well, although he'd never admit it. My piano students miss you too, and talk about you often. All our friends and family miss you. You were the most loved cat, and I just want you to know that that love is inexhaustible. I will never, ever forget you and I will never stop loving you, not even a little bit.

I hope you're eating meat loaf for every meal, licking catnip cigars until they're completely soaked through, chasing the laser pointer until you finally catch it, and napping on a soft, warm furry blanket every night. I hope you get to play in all of the fields, chase all the bugs, and roll around in all of the dusty patches of ground.

Thank you, sweet pea, for picking me to be your human. I'm saying goodbye, for now, but you'll aways be in my thoughts, in my music, and in my heart. I love you so much, my little daemon. I'll come find you when I cross the water, but for now, l'll see you in my dreams.

March 29, 2025 at 5:56 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Same!

A screenshot of an issue report dialogue box in Apple Maps correcting “Gulf of America” to “Gulf of Mexico.”

February 12, 2025 at 6:30 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Luke loves his heated bed.

#cats #catsky #catsofbluesky

Luke the tabby cat propping his head up on his heated bed

Luke the tabby cat propping his head up on his heated bed, eyes partially closed

Luke the tabby cat propping his head up on his heated bed, eyes mostly closed

February 9, 2025 at 1:37 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Omg, this is so funny. I am losing my mind listening to Dan Orlovsky pronounce the word “timpani” and watching the commentators try to figure out the word for “merengue” (narrator: they do not, but Laura Rutledge absolutely knows the word and just isn’t saying it).

Good shit.

January 30, 2025 at 11:31 PM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

So this was fun to receive in my email today. #iOS #coding #goals

A screenshot of Jake Smolowe's certificate of graduation for a Kodeco online coding Bootcamp.

January 23, 2025 at 5:50 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Same. LOVE the Phantom Toolbooth in large part because of his art. It was one of the centerpieces for our book-themed wedding.

A copy of “The Phantom Tollbooth" by Norton Juster (ill. by Jules Fieffer) in a wedding table centerpiece, surrounded by flowers and dinnerware.

January 21, 2025 at 2:55 PM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Luke says goodnight.

#cat #catsky #catsofbluesky

Luke the tabby cat hugging his spare human's arm.

Luke the tabby cat pressing his face into his spare human's arm.

Luke the tabby cat hugging his spare human's arm and looking at the camera.

Luke the tabby cat pressing up against his spare human's arm.

December 21, 2024 at 7:44 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

My best girl Lyra left us today. Lyra, I’ll probably have a lot more to say later, but for now, I can’t. It’s too much. Just know that I’ll miss you and love you forever, my sweet baby. You can rest now.

December 15, 2024 at 7:24 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Nice to come home to this.

#sunset #cityscape #sanfrancisco

November 30, 2024 at 2:59 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Gracie says "blep!"

#cats #blep #catsofbluesky #blueskycats

Gracie the black and white munchkin cat with her tongue out

November 29, 2024 at 8:07 PM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Finally got some photos of Queen Bee, the shyest of them all (she’s warming up to me, but I had to take off my shoes so she wouldn’t get spooked).

#cats #blueskycats #catsofbluesky

Queen Bee the tortoise shell cat lying on the back of a couch

Queen Bee the tortoise shell cat, upside down on the back of a couch

Queen Bee the tortoise shell cat, upside down on the back of a couch, paw outstretched

November 28, 2024 at 10:46 PM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Please enjoy this throwback video of me attempting to walk while my in-laws’ foster kittens ride atop my shoes.

#cats #blueskycats #catsofbluesky #kitten

November 28, 2024 at 8:33 PM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

One more since I don't usually get pictures of her because she's so shy:

Gracie the Munchkin cat

#cats #catsofbluesky #blueskycats

Gracie the black and white munchkin cat, looking at the camera.

November 28, 2024 at 6:40 AM

Jake Smolowe

@jakesmolowejazz.bsky.social

One of the the pleasures of visiting my in-laws for Thanksgiving is spending time with/being mobbed by their animals. Meet Cosmo the pit bull, Tom Petty the orange cat, and Iggy Pop the chaos tabby.

#cats #catsofbluesky #blueskycats #dogs #dogsky #dogsofbluesky