In 2003 while living in a remote, isolated community I adopted a "Manx" (read born with stumpy tail) Black and white male cat that came with the name of "Simba". He was a fav of one of the SPCA workers, and was starting to come down with a cough so I brought him home to foster and immediately fell in love with him. So he stayed. Apparently he had come from a house with 30 other cats-I can't see how he managed since although never displaying any real aggression towards other cats he always had to be the dominate one. This led to him whooping some ass if he ever met an adult cat that refused to submit. The house we were living in had a bit of a mice problem, and I found the chewed off head of one on the living room floor one day. Also he killed an enormous rat in the house, which my new landlord thankfully disposed of. But it wasn't rodents that had to fear him, he also ate one of my budgies that was foolish enough to escape through the bars of her cage.
He had a hard time adjusting to the life of an indoor kitty, escapes were frequent and sometimes amazing. Pushing up the window, jumping from roof to roof. In 2005 I noticed his weight was dropping and he was wanting to sleep under the covers with me. Fearing illness I took him to the Vet and discovered he had rotten teeth that had to be extracted. They didn't want to break his jaw so left his canine teeth in at the time. Everybody loved Simba, mostly because he wouldn't take no for an answer when it came to giving affection. Even now I look over on the couch and can't believe he isn't sitting on it.
We moved to Victoria together, he endured a 14 hour plus drive from Prince Rupert to Ladysmith (with an overnight in PG) and didn't pee in the carrier once. (He did poop. The carrier always made him poop) He spent a month with my parents, and on the last day when I was to pick him up he escaped! Fearing he wouldn't come back they searched for him outside, when they heard the neighbors cat screeching. It was Simba, beating him up. But my kitty was safe.
He spent 2 good years with me after that in apartments as an Apartment cat. No outside. My now ex was one of his favorite people, he used to put out a lot of body heat when he slept and Simba would curl up on his face/shoulder and sleep there. Simba was the kind of cat who slept as close to your face as he could get. In the early years, this meant on your chest. He would ride you like a log driver when you turned in your sleep . When my relationship tanked I moved into a shared house and one of my cats (I got a Persian girl named bump) started to pee in weird places so I assumed it was Simba and took him into the vet-this is where we found out he had FIV and also bad kidneys. He continued to be happy, although lose weight for the two years I spent there. He would pee on things now and then, I know now that this was because I wasn't keeping the boxes clean enough and also using a covered box hurt his back as he had pretty bad arthritis by that point. Those years were kind of a blur-I was super depressed and Simba was my good buddy. When I moved into this current apartment I noticed Simba stopped peeing in the box-to the Vet again. More teeth pulled! This time the canines were so badly rotten 3 days before his surgery they shifted and locked his mouth open. More emergency bills! When I got his teeth fixed and switched to an uncovered box Simba returned to using the litter box no problemo.
A few weeks ago I noticed he was straining to poop. So I bought some pumpkin to mix with his food. He had always been a frequent drinker, with the bad kidneys (renal failure is the main killer of cats) he had to drink a lot to flush his system. All the time this summer and fall he had been peeing it had smelled like horrible cat pee-now it was essentially water. My kitty's kidneys were failing. By this point, over the past year or so (probably more like 2) Simba had become terribly emaciated. He was interested in food though, and seemed to get on fine. He slept under the covers with me and on his bed by the heater in the old place. I could never see it though, all I saw was my good friend Simba. I knew he was skinny, he had always been skinny. Truly I should have had his teeth pulled last year. He was a walking skeleton, nothing but fur and bones. And love, he was still full of love.
Last week I knew it was time. I made an appointment with the Vet-I had bought special mega calorie food and added chicken broth and he wasn't interested in food at all. My baby was dying. He had an infection in his little nose and had mucus coming out of his left nostril and eye-the same one that had been giving him trouble when his canines came out. (teeth were so bad and infected making nose run) I took Simba into the pet ER on January 1st 2011 at the age of 17 and had them euthanize him, in my arms. He was so sick there was no fighting, he only left me for a minute or two when they put an IV catheter in his arm. He always hated the carrier, so I wrapped him in a towel to keep him warm and drove him belted up against my chest like a baby-that was always his preferred position to be held. It was quick and painless for him, and I miss him so, so much. The Vet said it was the right thing to do, I just wish I'd had him longer. My apartment feels so empty. He was always there, for 7 years and now he's gone. I can see the back of his little head as the vet wrapped him up and I just start to cry and cry.
Simba taught me so much about living with a kitty cat-he was so forgiving of my great stupidness and showed me the way to be. I love you Simba cat.
