Friday, September 04, 2009


Originally uploaded by chicagoschraders

Yesterday one of my Mom's cats, Simon, the gold tabby, passed away.

It was fourteen or fifteen years ago that Mom rescued a kitten from the middle of the street in down town Lockport. She and my grandmother saw him trapped in the middle of the street. Mom stopped her truck, stopping traffic, to get him out of the street. Mom took him to the vet where they found he had suffered a broken leg.

For weeks the poor thing had was stuck in a blue cast on his hind leg. It was touch and go for a while but Mom nursed him back to health. At time, Mom and Grandma had two older cats. She went to the shelter and found another kitten, Roger, the striped cat, so Simon would have a friend his own age.

His entire life Simon was skittish. Probably due to that early trauma on a Lockport street. It took years of work by Mom and Grandma to get him to accept being brushed. Once he learned to like it though he was demanding. There were breakfast and dinner times which were necessarily (from his point of view) followed by brushing time.

The older cats passed some years ago. It's been her and her two four legged boys on their own for quite a while now.

Mom and Roger are both missing their friend.



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