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When you’re facing a loss, especially of a loved one, there’s a part of your brain that returns to the past. I found Simon as a kitten in the Fashion District of downtown Los Angeles and he only liked me. He tolerated some women and I do have photographic evidence of him on my sister’s lap. He didn’t like men and he would go through comical pains to avoid my step-son at all costs. His favorite “Erin Nook” is pictured below and he nestled in there every time I flopped on my bed to study, or read, or watch TV.

Simon in his favorite Erin Nook c 1995

Simon had tetralogy of fallot which is an uncommon and devastating heart birth defect and I was told cats born with it typically don’t live more than 6 months. Simon was with me for ten years. When it was time for Simon to cross the rainbow bridge, he had lost several teeth, he wasn’t eating, and his foot pads and nose had taken on a blue hue because of the lack of oxygen circulating through his system. He was not going to get better.

My fingers stick to the keys as I try to find eloquent words to describe playing God. Ultimately I don’t feel worthy of making these kinds of decisions. I do however, feel it’s my duty as their Guardian to provide my fur babies with the highest quality of life, and with as little suffering as humanely possible. As the vet administered the sleeping portion of the euthanasia to Simon, she told me I could put him in my lap. There’s NOTHING Simon hated more than being put anywhere involuntarily. He’d get up and move, even if he came back to the exact same space you just put him. So I didn’t put him in my lap, but I caressed him and talked to him.

I had come directly from work; when the vet’s office called me I flew out of the office mid-day, afraid he would pass before I got to him. My boss said to me later, “You’re acting like a person died,” and I told him that “animal” had been by my side longer than any man ever had. I sat on the floor next to the oxygen chamber, in my long, black, floral dress, weeping as Simon left me. I left his carrier behind. I sat in my car and sobbed. Gasping, heaving sobs. For a long time. Eventually a woman tapped on my window and I rolled it down. She said she was sorry for my loss, and then she spoke words I have never forgotten,

“They will not leave you until you’re ready.”

I don’t think I will ever be ready to let Duke go. His recent labs are not good and the vet said we should love him and be thankful for every day he’s with us. Duke’s not ready to leave me either. He’s yelling at me right now for a little more breakfast. So I’m wiping away the tears and popping open a can of Fancy Feast – this week’s favorite.