1991——- August 31 1999
Simon was the first cat I’d ever owned.
He was also my first friend in a city of strangers.
Having grown up in apartments I was unable to have
a pet during my youth. I knew however that one day
my life would include a special pal…I’d see to that.
But as the years flew past and hectic job obligations in
the big city gnawed into every waking hour I found myself
unable to offer a proper lifestyle to a loving four-pawed friend.
So there I was still without. Eventually deciding to make
a major change I moved to a different state and job.
That was eight years ago. Little could I have ever imagined the
sweet little surprise awaiting me.
On a hot sticky summer day while discovering the outskirts
of my new found city I pulled my car off of a country road to
stop at an old gas station.
It appeared to have been built in the 1920’s and I bought a
coke from a vending machine that had seen almost
as many years.
As I walked back to my car I heard a strange sound that seemed
to emerge from the woods just to the left of the station.
Trying to fix my gaze upon its origin the sound was
heard again. Standing under a wooded brush was a stocky
dark gray kitten. When my eyes met his he began to jabber
away in a speech sounding more like a long drawn out
duck’s quack!…not at all resembling a meow.
He certainly had something to say and it appeared,
I was the one who was supposed to listen. As I walked slowly
over to him hoping he wouldn’t dash away he pranced up
to me in a cute goose-stepping little gait.
Noticing his crooked tail (somehow it had been broken
and always made him appear as if he was signaling to
make a left turn!) I picked the scruffy little guy up
and stroked his head.
Inquiring within the station if he belonged to anyone
around no one knew where he’d come from nor wanted him.
“Someone must have dumped him here…it happens sometimes,”
the station owner said. So I took the little orphan home.
Following his hefty dinner I gave him a much-needed bath
and discovered that he wasn’t gray at all but sleek black
with beautiful green eyes.
From that point on we became a team.
Living the life of a prince as a house cat he always
answered me when I called his name and would do a
funny little dance whenever I ‘d sing.
Upon leaving for work I’d kiss his stocky little head and
wish him a good day.
He’d quack the same wish to me. Returning home in the evening
he’d greet me at the door and chatter away about his busy day.
When I became ill and had to have surgery he never left
my side during my recovery at home.
He’d follow behind my wheelchair in his adorable gait as I’d
roll from room to room or watch over me as I’d fall off to sleep.
Awakening from a deep sleep himself when ever I’d gasp
with healing pains Simon would rub his head against my
face to comfort me. He loved riding in the car and would prop
himself up on his pillow to gaze out of the window as
if he were a dog. Passing motorists would often honk or wave
with delight at the unusual sight.
He’d take walks with me and would prance in his high
goose-stepping style with his head swinging from side to side.
One neighbor commented that Simon strutted like a show horse..
and so he did! When it came to playtime his favorite toys
were milk top safety strips and a plastic hair roller.
No highbrow toys for him. He’d have no part of them.
Much preferring the simpler things in life milk safety strips
were easier to swat across the kitchen floor and they sailed so
much faster than anything else brought home!
And a hair roller never ended up where you’d think it would
after a good swack. It was fun trying to outguess it!
I couldn’t imagine a day without my little pal.
He was so much a part of me. However our happy
contented life would eventually turn for the worst.
My darling little friend fell victim to the horrors of kidney failure.
Always rather stocky I’d noticed earlier this year that
he was losing weight. I mentioned it to a friend whose
husband is a vet’s lab technician and was told that Simon was
just getting older and his weight loss was typical.
Uneducated in detecting early signs of the dreadful illness,
I didn’t seek professional help until it was too late.
I will never forgive myself for it. The last three months of
Simon’s life were filled with constant visits to the vet
hours and hours of intravenous treatments medication
injections blood tests and every type of uncomfortable
examination imaginable.
My little pal however remained a trooper through it all.
As he’d once watched over me when I was ill I now
watched over him. It baffled the doctors that he never
lost conscienceness during his decline.
In fact he remained totally coherent right to the very end.
I believe he knew I was fighting for his life…so he fought too.
Finally in the wee hours of the night on August 31 1999 my
darling boy gave in to his dilemma as a neighbor attempted
to rush us to a nearby emergency animal hospital.
Tucked in my arms with his head on my shoulder I begged him
to hang on as the car whizzed past dark empty streets.
In response to my plea he rested his weak skeletal little
paw upon my tear-soaked cheek and with his last breath
softly uttered his good-bye.
Then he left.
Just as he’d greeted me eight years earlier with open
friendliness he sweetly bid me farewell.
The gentle soul I love so deeply has gone away.
His remains are with me however and always will be
even when my own time comes.
Simon was cremated and now sleeps inside a beautiful
urn next to his photograph.
As I pass it on my way out to work I still wish him a good day.
Sometimes I think I can hear his faint little quack
wishing me the same.
Sharon Towner
syt48@email.msn.com
| Simon |