previous post next post  

Barooooooooooooooo!

"Simon's gone."

I hate emails that start like that, because it means a friend is no longer with us.

Dusty has lost his wingcat.


Hit by a car on the highway in front of our house.

Wife and daughter saw his body on the way to school.

I brought him back, wrapped in a t-shirt and we buried him in the fields out behind our home.

He was our oldest and the most dignified of cats--never bullied, never shoved anybody out of the way for food. We rescued him from the pound in Newport News, huddled in the back corner of his cage, surrounded by barking dogs--$25 for shots and tags and he was ours. My daughter grew up with him.

He loved the outdoors and died a free soul.

He will be missed.

Dusty



Gunner!  Bring your troops to Attention and Present Paws!

Now is the time at Castle Argghhh! when we dance sing a spark to the Great Hunting Ground and Tennis Ball Chasing Facility at Piddler's Green.

15 Comments

 Here's to Simon!
 
It's the hard part about having animals, they always leave to soon.
 
Well dangit. I'm glad Simon had a loving forever home and job as wingcat. He was gorgeous!
 
I agree with Colin 110%.  As much as it hurts, He's coming home.
 

Dusty, (((hugs)))
How can anybody not to slow down for a gorgeous animal like Simon??

How can anybody not to slow down for any animal crossing their path??  I believe one has to pay no attention whatsoever to the road one is driving on in order to hit an animal...

 
To Simon.  So sorry, Dusty.

Saw a cat on the boulevard driving home, with a car parked nearby and a couple examining what I assume was a hit-and-run victim.  Probably the cat that's been wandering around the neighborhood, no tags, well fed, didn't want to come in or get into a box so I could take it to the shelter.
 
 My condolences to those owned by the Wingcat. I still miss my Blue Heeler.

I've hit the odd wee beastie on the road, but never intentionally. They've always jumped out at the worst time. I do my best to spare their all to short lives, but sometimes they make it impossible. I always feel quite bad afterwards.
 
May the cat nip be plentiful And may the bastards whom drive cars recklessly be forever sentences to clean the litter boxes there by hand
 
My condolences, Dusty. May he RIP.
 
Very sorry to hear of your loss. I was just reading Heinlein (again) and one of his quotes was, "If you would know a man, observe how he treats a cat." 'tis true methinks. When I got home last night one of the neighborhood tomcats saw me drive in and came running over to allow me the honor of giving him some rubs before sauntering off on his nightly adventure. Not saying that I am a good person, but that cat thinks so and that's good enough for me. :)
 
I'm so sorry, Dusty.  It seems he was a magnificent cat.  *hugs*
 
 For 17 years, 1984-2001, I had a Norwegian Forest Cat named Lazarus, who looked a LOT like Simon. I still miss that little weirdo. He was a cat with a mind of his own.
 
I really like the Forest Cats.
 
He was a Maine Coon/Persian mix, 14 years old when he was killed.

Gus, our youngest, a 2+-yr-old tabby, who delights in driving all the other cats crazy, had only one playmate--Simon. The latter was the only one who tolerated/wrestled with him, kinda like a graddad who lets the grandkids climb all over him while wearing a bemused look on his face.

Gus doesn't understand where his buddy is, and wants to know...you can tell.  
 

Little Orphan Annie was beside herself for weeks when her dirty old man, Rest Stop, took his last ride to the vet. 

And Little Girl never understood why her brother Gabby went away and never came back to snuggle.

Annie's behavior was the closest to human grieving I've even seen in a cat.