Jaguar, perhaps the best.

Jaguar is gone. He was perhaps the greatest cartoonist, along with Ziraldo, that we ever had. Another one from the Pasquim group who leaves us without warning. I can't get used to the fact that time passes, even that somewhat sacred time we all live in. It seemed like Pasquim occupied every moment of my life. And to some extent, that was true. At least for me. I was always the youngest of the group and was always treated that way. When I joined Pasquim and, along with others, held the newspaper together while the editorial staff was in jail, after everyone returned, I received a "no" from Jaguar's face when I asked for a raise. After all, I handled the layout and creation of Pasquim for two months, and then, when I asked, I was told I was a complete novice.

Okay. We moved on, and Jaguar continued to be an example to follow. Not that he was my style. He was a bohemian from Ipanema, founder of the band, and a bit of a show-off in his profession. Author or disseminator of the famous phrase "Intellectuals don't go to the beach, intellectuals drink," and the legend is well-known that he carried his brilliant drawings folded in his shirt pocket for publication. When he arrived, he would take them out and publish. Jaguar was always like that. During the Pasquim era, I worked with him on his almanac. It was quite a journey. We worked every day at my house, and from that undertaking came an almanac with everything he had done up to that point, plus some photos and mementos.

Later we met often in Itaipava, in the mountains of Rio. Jaguar was one of the founding partners, along with Lan and Hugo Carvana, of the bar in the Itaipava municipal market. I used to cycle there from Araras, much to their surprise, as the only exercise they knew was lifting glasses. After a marriage with two children to the poet Olga Savary, Jaguar married the doctor Célia Pierantoni, with whom he lived for a long time, and it seems she brought some order to Jaguar's unruly life. I know he stopped drinking and settled down.

Jaguar was always a brilliant cartoonist. He drew like few others and didn't fit into any political agenda. He was a true dissenter and always worked for the opposition press. He worked for Última Hora, Folha, Pasquim, and other newspapers when they existed. Jaguar resisted with his relaxed style, not aligned with the prevailing thought. He was a humorist par excellence. A humorist like few others, he demonstrated, through his drawings, that his style was unique. His characters came from the bottom up. He would start by drawing the feet, and I still don't know how he arrived at the head with such unique aesthetic beauty.

He was a champion. As far as I know, he worked until the very end. He earned the admiration we all have for him. Another one gone, but another good memory remains. I learned a lot from him and always tried to emulate his relaxed way of drawing. I never quite managed it, but it helped me improve. And I remember one of his leap year birthdays, where we celebrated after being released from the DOPS (Department of Political and Social Order), me, Sérgio Augusto, and Bruno Barreto. I think Jaguar died at 93, the same age as Ziraldo, Quino, Mordillo, and many others. Perhaps it's the right age for cartoonists to die.