I just got news that my cat Simon died last night. When I left Philadelphia on New Year’s 2008, I didn’t take Simon with me. He stayed with my roommate while I traveled. I originally planned to pick him up in the summer, and bring him to New York once I was settled, but I wasn’t able to get an apartment where I could have both a dog and a cat. Plus, he was deeply loved by the people he was living with, and they wanted him. So he stayed in Philly.
Apparently he was fine, hanging out like normal, and then went into another room, laid down and died. He had FIV (kitty HIV), so maybe that was part of what happened. I always expected he would live a shorter life.
Simon was a great cat. Funny. Annoying. Smart. Pushy. He loved running around that big loft in Philly. Part of why I didn’t bring him to NYC is I knew he would hate living in a small place again. I’m glad and grateful he was able to stay in the loft and run and run and run around. It sounds like he adopted my old roommate’s new roommate (and her boyfriend) as his new family.
He was a crazy and loving cat. I miss him.
