I got a call from my mom this morning that I had been dreading and expecting.
My cat Simba finally had to be put to sleep this morning. I got him as a tiny kitten, with barely any hair, back in 2nd grade (1993). So he was getting fairly old (18 years) and had some health issues (thyroid problem) but still upsetting. I named him Simba because when I got him I was obsessed with 'The Lion King'.
And in a way I am not too upset because I have been preparing myself for this for over a year. So every time I would leave KC I would tell him goodbye and act like it would be the last time I would see him. And I guess in June it was the last time I saw him.
Simba lived with Jeff, Heath and I in college. And I wanted to bring him to Colorado but he was already old and absolutely hated car rides, so I didn't think the stress would be good for him, driving across Kansas and all.
Simba was a great cat. He had a very loud meow and loved wet food. He would beg for it every. single. morning. And he would wait for your alarm to go off and then get in your face and meow. He hated doors being closed. He was a very sweet cat and would cuddle with any cat. He had the cutest little paws with white feet. And in the summer, we had window A/C units that weren't very efficient so we would only turn them on at night. And Simba, every night would plant himself right in front of it so no one else could feel the cold air, it was really cute. And when he was a tiny kitten he let me dress him up in doll clothes and push him around in a stroller, I even have a picture of it.
The last photo I took of him:
Waiting for wet food:
For some reason Simba and Heath started this thing where they had to eat out of the container that holds their food when we would get new food, the tradition still goes on today with Heath and MJ.
Love you Simba, you were a great cat.