This post is to celebrate the life of Simon and mourn his passing.
Simon was my sister's cat, a healthy white and beige male, muscular, light on his feet, quick to curl up next to you, turn on his back, and swivel his head around to see if you were ready to pet him yet. When he purred, he could be heard for miles. He loved to play, but was a gentle cat who never scratched or bit me. I could pet him until my arms were tired.
He caused acute jealousy in the heart of Darcy, the black Scottish terrier who lived with him because his winning ways would often have me petting him instead of paying attention to her. But I'm sure she wonders where he is.
I think he has been chasing imaginary mice today who run from him in a most satisfactory way, skittering across the floors of heaven while Simon proudly feels his catly prowess undiminished by his recent journey.
In the evening, I think that he sits in a welcoming lap while St Francis smooths his fur and tirelessly scratches underneath his pointed chin.
We will all miss him tremendously and miss his affection and furry presence.
There will never be another exactly like him.