Sweet Yet Sour

Here’s Tuna to You Simon

Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009 | The Daily Special

It’s been a hard week here at our house; we all have a cold and our cat Simon died yesterday.

About fourteen years ago my sister adopted a pudgy, shy Simon from the humane society.  He had been in the humane society for a long time, more than month, and his previous owners had cut off his whiskers (why?) and had fed him to the point of weighing 26 lbs.

Simon turned out to be anything but shy and had some great personality quirks.  He loved to flop down on his side and have his tummy rubbed and would do so at the drop of a hat.  We decided that he was perhaps a mix of Siamese and Rag Doll, a breed known for it’s “floppiness”.

Simon was dexterous to the point of being able to open some doors. When he was upset would sometimes open and close a cabinet door until the banging brought someone who might be able to bring him some tuna.  When my sister had an answering machine Simon would sometimes knock the phone off and breathe heavily into the phone when her recorded message would start.  And he loved to sleep on your chest with his paws on your face, and when the alarm would go off, he’d pat you lightly to make sure you turned it off.  Simon was also a talker, always telling you about his day, and making sure you didn’t forget to feed him.

After my sister and I moved in together in 2000, Simon began to show signs of being ill.  My sister had tried desperately to get Simon to drop some weight, with some success, but he was still pretty big at that point.  After multiple visits and tests at the vet it was determined that Simon had feline diabetes.  It was then that our long odyssey with Simon’s health began, with insulin shots twice a day, pills twice a day and special diabetic feline food that was closely regulated.

After my sister married her husband, who is allergic to cats, I took Simon to live with me and maintained his health regime.  He lost weight, and his diabetes was well regulated, even to the point where he went for almost a year without needing insulin shots.

Simon was however, constantly hungry and really noisy about it when he wasn’t eating.  I had to go through three different trash cans until I finally found one that Simon was not able to get into for food.  Once I came home to find that he had gone through the trash, found a Ziploc bag with cheese covered Brussels sprouts in it and had eaten everything but the sprout centers. And I learned after Simon took a cookie off the cookie rack that nothing on the counter was safe either.

We estimated that Simon was about 18 years old this year (we never knew his exact age), and had spent almost 8 years as a diabetic.  Our vet tells me that the average lifespan for most diabetic cats is 3-5 years after their diagnosis, so I felt pretty good about how Simon was doing.  Over the past year however, his ability to maintain his insulin levels was not as it should be.  Simon would often go into hypoglycemic episodes where he was confused, couldn’t see, and was unable to determine where he was; he would get stuck in corners or behind the couch, unable to get himself out.  We tried lowering his insulin dose but Simon’s episodes continued, began to last longer and became more frequent.

I have had enough pets in my life to have seen them suffer and be in pain until their deaths.  It was a hard decision to make, but two weeks ago I decided to put Simon to sleep. I made an appointment and then tried my hardest to spoil him with milk, cheese and little extras that I knew he liked.  I could tell that he was uncomfortable these last few months, as he would jump up on my lap, yowl endlessly, and just stand there and knead me before leaping off again.  This was something my childhood cat, Charlie, did at the end of his life and it was a sign to me that Simon was in as much pain as Charlie was at 21 when he died.

I’m sure some pet lovers will disagree with me for my decision and I am not entirely comfortable with it myself.  But I wanted Simon to have a good life, and he was not living a good cat life for the past few months.  When I am old, unhappy and in a lot of pain, I may wish that someone will do the same for me as I have done for Simon.  I loved him dearly, will miss him always, but could no longer watch him suffer needlessly.

And so it was that yesterday I took Simon to the vet for the very last time.   I held him on my lap while he died, crying the entire time.  I hope that Simon forgives me and knows that what I did was for him.  I hope that there is some sort of cat heaven, where he can eat all of the tuna and cheese he wants and there are always sunny spots.

3 Comments to Here’s Tuna to You Simon

Leave a comment