The Cat House Memorial

September 21, 2006, marked the close of one chapter in Cat House history. On that dreary, rainy Thursday, Simba -- the cat whose beforeand- after photos had come to symbolize the work of The Cat House -- was laid to rest. A tumor had been discovered earlier in the year but in September its growth accelerated and took over his body.

Simba was truly a magical cat. You didn't have to even know him well to understand that. Volunteers meeting him for the first time understood his role in the organization. Simba was our first Office Manager at the C Street shelter. He greeted volunteers as they entered and, when they left, watched from the door until they were in their car and had pulled away. Of course, it's possible that his behavior was related to food -- he managed to convince each volunteer that no one had fed him yet that day... We knew it wasn't true, but fell for it anyway.

Simba came to The Cat House from a house on South Street that was raided in early August 2003. We ultimately decided to bring in about 50 cats from that raid, but two cats pretty much made the decision for us -- Simba and Piano Man. When I went down to the Capital Humane Society and saw those two, I decided I wasn't leaving until we had a plan to take as many as we could. Simba came to us looking as though he was going to take his last breath any moment. Within 3 weeks, we were amazed at his transformation. In that short period of time, he had become big and strong and truly regal. (See before and after photos, below)

Trite as it may sound, Simba was truly an inspiration. He had endured much and flourished nonetheless. He was a discriminating judge of character. He often seemed gruff -- usually when the other cats did not show the proper respect -- but he was really a pussycat. Simba wasn't crazy about crowds or screaming children but he could be amazingly tolerant. He had the ability to assess potential adopters and pretty much made it clear who he liked and didn't like.

Simba had many admirers. People just naturally understood his "position" by his regal demeanor. In his last days, Simba seemed to "hold court" and he sat up on a shelf and received visitors who came to spend time with him. The decision to euthanize him was difficult. Simba so loved life that we didn't want to take a second away from him if he wanted to live it. Even the night before he died, when he heard his friend Alma pop open a special can of Fancy Feast, he knew exactly what it was, and jumped up and followed her to the kitchen. He didn't even let her get it into a bowl before he began devouring it.

But the tumor had grown rapidly, and it was clear that he was declining and becoming more and more uncomfortable during his last few days. On the evening of Sept. 20th, after his special Fancy Feast meal and receiving lots of his friends, he slept comfortably in a private room so no one would bother him, and received some pain medication so that he was free of pain, breathing normally and could relax. The following day, it was time to let him go. Simba was his typical self up to the very end. Things were done his way, or you were going to hear about it.

No cat could ever take the place of Simba. He was an icon of The Cat House. He will forever be not only in our hearts but in the halls, the rooms, and even in the air, at any facility The Cat House will ever be lucky enough to fill with kitties like him who need our help. Words cannot express how much he will be missed.


Simba Click on image for full size.
September 21, 2006, marked the close of one chapter in Cat House history. On that dreary, rainy Thursday, Simba -- the cat whose beforeand- after photos had come to symbolize the work of The Cat House -- was laid to rest. A tumor had been discovered earlier in the year but in September its growth accelerated and took over his body. Simba was truly a magical cat. You didn't have to even know him well to understand that. Volunteers meeting him for the first time understood his role in the organization. Simba was our first Office Manager at the C Street shelter. He greeted volunteers as they entered and, when they left, watched from the door until they were in their car and had pulled away. Of course, it's possible that his behavior was related to food -- he managed to convince each volunteer that no one had fed him yet that day... We knew it wasn't true, but fell for it anyway. Simba came to The Cat House from a house on South Street that was raided in early August 2003. We ultimately decided to bring in about 50 cats from that raid, but two cats pretty much made the decision for us -- Simba and Piano Man. When I went down to the Capital Humane Society and saw those two, I decided I wasn't leaving until we had a plan to take as many as we could. Simba came to us looking as though he was going to take his last breath any moment. Within 3 weeks, we were amazed at his transformation. In that short period of time, he had become big and strong and truly regal. (See before and after photos, below) Trite as it may sound, Simba was truly an inspiration. He had endured much and flourished nonetheless. He was a discriminating judge of character. He often seemed gruff -- usually when the other cats did not show the proper respect -- but he was really a pussycat. Simba wasn't crazy about crowds or screaming children but he could be amazingly tolerant. He had the ability to assess potential adopters and pretty much made it clear who he liked and didn't like. Simba had many admirers. People just naturally understood his "position" by his regal demeanor. In his last days, Simba seemed to "hold court" and he sat up on a shelf and received visitors who came to spend time with him. The decision to euthanize him was difficult. Simba so loved life that we didn't want to take a second away from him if he wanted to live it. Even the night before he died, when he heard his friend Alma pop open a special can of Fancy Feast, he knew exactly what it was, and jumped up and followed her to the kitchen. He didn't even let her get it into a bowl before he began devouring it. But the tumor had grown rapidly, and it was clear that he was declining and becoming more and more uncomfortable during his last few days. On the evening of Sept. 20th, after his special Fancy Feast meal and receiving lots of his friends, he slept comfortably in a private room so no one would bother him, and received some pain medication so that he was free of pain, breathing normally and could relax. The following day, it was time to let him go. Simba was his typical self up to the very end. Things were done his way, or you were going to hear about it. No cat could ever take the place of Simba. He was an icon of The Cat House. He will forever be not only in our hearts but in the halls, the rooms, and even in the air, at any facility The Cat House will ever be lucky enough to fill with kitties like him who need our help. Words cannot express how much he will be missed.
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