Here’s To You, Simba

It was January, 2012. I was a senior in college, living in an off-campus apartment. I had never owned a cat, and frankly never wanted one. A family members’ cat just had kittens, and she asked if I wanted one out of the blue. She sent me a picture of your sister, Zoe, and the rest was history.

I brought Zoe home, and fell in love with her instantly. She was my new baby!

You were supposed to go to my Gram, but she was going through the end stages of chemotherapy, and she couldn’t take care of you after all. My cousin sent me a picture of you, and asked if I wanted a second kitten.

Okay, so I never even wanted one cat, and here I am about to bring home two.

Something came over me, and I said yes. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

When I picked you up, you were a little ball of disaster. You had fleas, worms, your fur smelled like smoke, your eyes were blood shot from meowing – you needed some major T.L.C. and a trip to the vet immediately. I’ll never forget how you meowed the whole way home – it was heartbreaking.

Within a few weeks, though, and after the right medications and lots of lovin’, you perked right up. You became the happiest little kitten. You and Zoe would cuddle and snooze all day, everyday.

I remember dreading how long classes seemed, when all I wanted was to get back to my house to see you and Zo. You two were my pride and joy, my first babies.

One of my favorite memories of you is when I was in the kitchen, and you came pouncing around the corner with your tiny meow – except it sounded more like, “Mow! Mow! Mow!”.

You’ve been melting my heart since day one, Simba.

You were with us when we graduated, when we moved back in with our parents, and when we got our first condo.

You were there for me when I achieved one of my biggest dreams. You were there for me when my parents died. You were there for me when I got married. When I got a new job. When I got laid off for the first time.

Every time I’d come home, I could always find you snuggled at the end of my bed waiting for me to cuddle you.

Some of your favorite things to do included meowing like a roaring lion (day and night), taking trips outside to run in the grass (and eat it, then throw up of course), take quick trips in the car, run around chasing the laser pointer, climb like Spider Man up your kitty jungle gym, and leap up onto the counter to get a drink every single time we turned the water on (every. single. time.).

Your favorite treats included Blue Buffalo wet food, fresh tuna and chicken treats. You demanded fresh ice water every day. And you loved when we would get you new catnip toys.

With Matt working nights, you were my little companion. Zoe has always been a more independent cat who likes her space (she’s M.I.A. most of the time). You, however, were certainly a playful lap cat.

I’d come home from work and you’d be right at the door, and then hop up onto the kitchen chair and rub your little nose and face on the kitchen, purring away. You were so excited that I had come home, and I loved coming home to you every single night.

We’d snuggle on those lonely nights, as you’d always hop onto my lap and knead the fuzzy blankets that I was wrapped up in. I used to love watching you do that! Stretching out your little paws, making your ‘bed’ comfy to curl up on. You were a purring machine, and I’ll never forget that sweet sound.

When I got pregnant in the fall of 2015, it’s like you knew. You were extra cuddly. And throughout my pregnancy, as my belly grew, you’d pop up on the couch with me and extend your paw onto my belly and fall asleep. I will cherish these moments forever. You didn’t know it then, but in those moments you brought me so much warmth and love, and I appreciated it more than you knew.

Things changed when the babies arrived.

The day we brought them home you were so excited and pounced up to put your paws on the carseat to sniff them. We whisked you away, worried you might jump on them.

From that point on, there was less ice in your water, less trips outside, less catnip. There were less cuddles, less nose kisses, less snuggles on the couch at night.

We were so blindly wrapped up in taking care of twins round the clock, that the attention was no longer 100% paid to you.

You still got lots of treats and wet food every morning. You still got sips of water at the sink. You still got fresh litter, fresh water and food. But things weren’t the same for you.

You began meowing fiercely at night. It seemed as though the second I got the babies down to sleep, you began meowing all over the house. It drove me crazy, as I was terrified you’d wake them up, and all I wanted – needed – to do, was sleep.

Rather than hop on the couch to snuggle with you with our fuzzy blanket, I leaped at the chance of sleep, and went upstairs to bed.

For the last year and a half, that’s kind of how things went with you and I. Rather than doing things for you because I loved you, it was more like another task on my endless list.

Overtime you seemed as though you were losing a bit of weight, and were coughing up hair balls a bit more often. I had brought this up at one of your vet appointments, and the vet told me that some cats are just thinner than others. He asked if you ate regularly, and I told him you ate like a pig!

A little over a week ago, you began violently vomiting periodically throughout the day. I racked my brain trying to think of anything and everything you could have possibly gotten into. You were never the type of cat to eat toys or small pieces of anything.

I noticed you weren’t using the litter box much, and weren’t eating or drinking. I mixed warm water with your wet food and used a syringe to give you nutrients the only way I could. The vomiting continued. It would wake me up in the middle of the night.

You weren’t meowing loudly anymore. You wouldn’t even run up the stairs like you always did. You barely came around, and every now and then you’d let out a weak “howl”, indicating how much pain you were in.

I brought you in on Monday, praying to God with everything I had that they would give you an anti-nausea/vomiting medication, and you’d be back to yourself in no time. I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to get my Simby back.

The vet felt around and did the usual check up. She told me that your kidneys were smaller than average, and you were very sick. We did blood tests, and asked the vet for her honest advice – what she would do if it were her cat.

She gave me the run around, told me that you had kidney disease/were in kidney failure and spoke the words I was dreading hearing. I sank down against the wall into a crouched position and put my head in my hands.

I asked her if I could take you home and give you fluids myself, but she reminded me that you were suffering, and it would be selfish of me to do that.

Throughout all this, throughout all the pain and suffering – you were still purring.

I held you, curled up in a ball, and I swear you wrapped your paw around my finger. I held you close to my heart and told you how much I loved you, and how I did not want you to live in pain any longer.

We began the process, as the vet administered the sedative. Your purring slowed, as your head sank back and your mouth opened.

My entire body was shaking. My heart was shattering. Tears were streaming down my face, dripping from my chin. I couldn’t let you leave me, but I knew in my heart I couldn’t let you suffer.

Within 3 minutes, you were gone.

I held your limp body in my arms and prayed to God to help me through this. It brought me back to when I had to give the doctor the OK to administer the heart stopping meds for my Mom. This was way too much.

I can’t stop blaming myself, my mind races thinking there must have been something I could have done differently or didn’t notice. But for my own sanity, I have to keep reminding myself that this disease was out of my hands, and I was lucky to have you for as long as I did.

However, I will keep blaming myself for not spending every second with you when I had the chance.

I’ve been crying on and off since that moment, and I’m sick to my stomach as I’m writing this to you. But there are things you need to know, Simba.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I became so distracted when I became a Mom to human babies. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that your constant meowing may have been because you were trying to communicate how much pain you were in. I’m sorry I didn’t drill the vet harder about why you were so thin. I’m sorry I didn’t snuggle you every night the last few months.

I’m sorry there was no cure for the pain you were in.

My soul is broken. Our house is not a home without you. It’s quiet, and lonely in many ways, even with two toddlers. I see you in all your favorite spots still, except you’re not really there. It’s impossible to go through daily life, knowing you’re not coming home.

It’s always been “Zoe and Simba”, but now Zoe is alone.

I loved you more than you can possibly imagine, even when I was distracted, even when I didn’t snuggle you. You are irreplaceable, and there will always be a space in my heart that will never be filled. I cherished you all the more because I got you before my Mom passed away, and I know she adored you.

I know that she is snuggling you now, feeding you all the tuna and chicken treats; rolling you in the finest cat nip, and brushing your beautiful orange coat.

I’m not sure when this pain will subside, or if it ever really will at all. Your absence is so painful, and I’m sure that will never change.

They say cats leave paw prints on your heart forever and man, that couldn’t be more true. Thank you for fulfilling my life in so many beautiful and comforting ways for the last 6 years. If only it could have been 10 more..

I’d give anything to get you back, and to snuggle you one last time.

You are loved and missed more than you can imagine, Simba kitty.