Thanks guys. Jones' death is a side effect of the ongoing drama that's been keeping me away from here. She was completely healthy two weeks before my life went to shit, and she stopped eating when I did, (I've dropped 50 lbs) and I was too caught up in my own drama to notice. By the time I did, the damage to her was irreversible.
She fought on valiantly for a month and when she died, she even refused to quit until SHE was done. Her last couple of days, she had taken to messing herself. I would always just wash her off, comb her fur and love on her afterwards. In what for any other animal would have been a dying act, she vomited and defecated, and I didn't realize how serious it was and cleaned her up, just like always. After I had finished washing her off, I took her to the bathroom to dry her and she laid in my arms and purred. The purring began to slowly ebb, and I rolled her over to check what was wrong. She only had one eye left due to incompetence of UT Vet School years prior, and I saw her light go out in it. I closed her eye, kissed her one last time, and called the vet to have her cremated. She now resides on top of the bedroom stereo in a pretty cherry-finished box next to Corey, my last cat to die.