And Now Simon

Simon

2000-2011

Presumably a fast-growing cancer; it probably started around the time of the blue jay dive-bombing five weeks ago.  We had since then been regular visitors at the animal hospital. His blood work showed very elevated calcium.  His prognosis was poor.

My favorite colors: gray, black,  gold, and white.  

He was the brother of Howard, and they died within 6 days of each other.  They were two distinct personalities, more like black and white than black and gray as they were.  Howard was
 outgoing yet a homebody; Simon was more shy, yet decidedly adventurous.  He was the one who usually volunteered to accompany the dogs and me on a promenade.  He even dared to cross dangerous streets to stay with us, while being very careful, though, to look both ways.

 He was a friend to Nicholas (died 2000).

He was a friend to Alice.

Simon in happier days with his catnip mouse. He was buried with it in his paws.

Unlike her name, Dr. Savage was warm and compassionate.  Simon's little heart lingered on after the first syringe.  Dr. Savage gave him a second and then he was gone.  I held his lifeless body tight.

Together to the end

It was back to the boxes of Emily's doll clothes in search of another little pillow and some sheets and blankets.  Now next to Howard he rests in peace.  Little did I know when I bought these Mexican river rocks for putting in a fireplace interior that I would use them for initializing graves.

In the stillness of the garden graves, a robin appeared.  He danced on the newly dug soil, his beak filled with wriggling worms.  And so life goes on.  The mourning dove coos and the great horned owl in the pine tree hoots.

In cat heaven...


Is there such a thing anywhere as an ordinary housecat?

A Life Interrupted

Howard

2000 - 2011

Howard was in the front yard irises when he was attacked on a recent hot and humid June morn.  I heard a cry and I looked out the window to see his body locked in the jaws of a large dog.  Horror, terror, and profound sorrow ensued.  It was unexpected and unprovoked.

He came to our home with his brother eleven years ago. They were adopted from the local animal shelter when I got it into my head that having a couple of kittens was a good idea.  Of course, I chose two of my favorite colors: black and gray.  Emily and her best friend, Caroline, were given the responsibility of names.  They decided the black one would be Howard, and the gray one, Simon. 

Raining kittens reign topsy-turvy.

They could have been named Yin and Yang!

Howard with young Chewbacca and old Nick (1987-2000) 

Howard was affable and friendly to all.  To his credit, his hunting was usually no more than bringing home a cicada, which I then captured and released back into the outdoors. He was ever curious, and always causing some sort of mischief or "trouble".  He loved climbing ladders and jumping into bags and boxes.  He loved to take naps and drink from faucets.

He was best friends with Little Earl, a talented boy who could stand upright on his hind feet.  Little Earl, too,  died far too young, at the age of four.

Puss in a pot impersonating a plant

Howard had a huge personality and provided endless entertainment effortlessly.

Here Howard is watching "Charlotte's Web".  He was fascinated by the spider and pawed at the screen. I'm sure he would have loved Wilbur given the opportunity. 

A recent neighborhood yard sale had Howard proving he was at the top of his game.  He always had a great sense of showmanship. 

Alice and Howard

Of late, Howard was best friends with Alice since she joined the household.  Even for his eleven years, he didn't mind tousling with an energetic 35 lb. year-old dog.  Howard's ploy was to lay on his back while batting away at Alice.  When I asked his veterinarian, Dr. Love,  if she thought Howard was overweight, she said he was only "big-boned".  She went on to proclaim that he had the longest whiskers that she had ever seen.  I was as proud as a parent with this assessment!

Chewy and Howard

I will miss the menagerie walks around the neighborhood; two dogs followed by two cats. No more romping across lawns in big, bounding leaps, no more sashaying in his languid walk.  No more yowls if he was left too far behind. 

At 9:00 a.m., on June 9th, 2011, Howard was alive.  Fortunately, he did not suffer for long.  Four hours later, he was not where he should be.  I made a bed of soft muslin and put his head on a small felt cushion, top-stitched with appliqued stars.  In his paws I put one of his toys: a small fluffy ball. 

An ordinary housecat he was not, and his  life was interrupted prematurely.