Guess Not for Long........

Here is our beloved cat Simba.

Well, guess i should say here was our beloved cat Simba.

The rest of the story, from our great date at Ritz a few Saturday's ago -- was that we came home to our Simba lying at the backdoor. Very weird sad cry i had never heard before. Unfortunately, all was not well.

Simba was HK's little kitty. We adopted him from the Human Society -- but it turned out that he had been born in one of Troy and Kathleen's closets. Seems that they had picked up a stray wandering around Preschool and taken her home and -- kittens! (once again proving that no good deed goes unpunished.)

Yes, turns out our Simba was born on September 7 -- Jake's birthday -- a few falls go.

Remember there was no school, and trees were down all over town and on our lot a well -- because some hurricane had just blown through here. Yes, our Simba came into the world on a very weird abnormal stormy night. Rossi Spell had fed the litter as wee kittens up at the Main Street Vet. and i had just seen Rossi and Penn that Saturday morning out walking. She and i -- sitting on porch steps -- had just been talking what an amazing cat he was.

The way i look at it -- you are either a dog person or a cat person. Sure you can be an animal lover, but rare is the human who deep down does not prefer one over the other.

Put me in the dog camp. cats are way too independent. very love me -- just a little -- then leave me alone. now they do like to "hang out" with you in the same room -- but let's not get crazy with the affection.

Yes, though i am somewhat independent myself -- much prefer the worship of dogs. i mean how can you beat a great dog? Always up for walks, runs and they love lots of love.

but even the greatest of dogs is a lot of work, compared to the most finicky of cats. And low maintenance is priority around here now. Yes, a few years ago HK needed a pet. even the most outgoing and effervescent Beta fish in the whole world doesn't satisfy a child in that, "i want a pet mode." Saying prayers every night for a kitty. Crying buckets of tears for the dead Jingle -- a cat she couldn't possibly remember -- for Jingle expired when HK was 2. and if she did remember Jingle, she certainly would not be crying.

Jingle lived 14 years and was mean as a snake. i loved her. i guess. but it was a shallow, i love you because you are one of God's creatures -- and we have been through tons of stuff of together -- kind of love.


yes, that cat wouldn't see john's brother Jim for months -- but everytime Jim would at random appear in our house -- Jingle would attack him.

As full of every earthy vice Jingle was, Simba was brimming with love and tolerance. A living breathing ragdoll of a cat. On Christmas 2004, Santa brought him to us.

Yes, that cat would be subjected to all manners of kitty dress up, nights where HK held him captive in her arms asleep all night long, and being tossed to-and-from like some furry, flexible Garfield between 14 5-year-olds at HK's birthday. Yes, i must admit he was one-of-a-kind. and when we pulled up that Saturday night -- when i heard his very strange, helpless cry -- something was very, very wrong.

We made sure Hannie was asleep and got him inside. He had some type of wound on his leg. but you could tell, most probably all his nine lives were cashed in that night.

and in the morning before church, john had to find shovel -- from wherever jake had left it in the grass to dig up some worms to fish -- and go bury our sweet Simba on the lot next to my beloved Gator's final resting place.

We waited to tell Hannie, till after church and after lunch. John said on way home from picking up BBQ chicken at rec shelter HK questioned, "will Simba still be alive when i get six?" "i hope so." hmmm.

Well, Simba had died and we had to break the news to her -- she sobbed. she and john went out to grave and she sobbed.

What had happened to that cat? Initially, i thought that horrendously bad creature that tips over our trash cans nearly every night -- had gotten into battle with our Simba and done her in. And that is what we told our sweet HK.

But life is much, much stranger than fiction and the cause of Simba's death that we eventually pieced together -- was too freakish -- and most bizarre accident. So as far as HK is concerned, the "bad, old fossum," got him. not one of our very kind and sweet neighbors who is adoring husband, father and all around good guy who just seems to have way bizarre way of accidentally doing in -- small creatures. enough said on that.

Hannah kate over the next few days -- trying to work through her grief i'm sure -- asked, "if Daddy dies, are we going to bury him on the lot?"

Trish Jones -- neighbor, mother and wife of (well, said i wouldn't go into that -- and a promise is a promise) felt so terrible about our loss and volunteered to set all right. "What if i can get her a kitten?" Trish offered.

oh dear. the summer. all our plans. a kitten?

Well, Hannie was so heartbroken. "only if it is a male, " i definitely decided. only a male.. as un-"go chicks" as that sounds, boy cats are sooooooo much more easy going. And a word to the wise, if you tell Trish go ahead with something-- it's a done deal. Not 24 hours later she called -- there was a kitty -- and they would earmark him for Hannie when it got a little older.

in the mean time Trish and children traveled to Kansas City for sister visit. when they got back our kitten would be ready for delivery.

KC -- visited there long, long ago. remember lots of fountains. remember going to a Kansas City Chiefs game at Arrowhead Stadium. Do they still play at Arrowhead Stadium? am hopelessly out of sports loop now.

do remember gazing next door at where the Royals played and wishing they were playing (total George Brett fixation.) am really showing age.

remember bought clear plastic cup of sangria (think it was slightly over 3 tablespoons full.) Sangria? at a NFL game? was such a college chick at the time. yes, that must be only explanation.

well, trish and all made it back from Kansas. she called, "do you still want this kitten?" oh dear. This gal means business. ok -- told her, "we do." hmm.

Well, less than 3 hours later -- HK at Beauty and Beast play practice -- Jones children and mom show up on backstoop with little gray ball of fluff. it was so tiny really. First thought was, "it's so little -- can we keep it alive?" But it was hopelessly cute -- and trish had gone to sooooo much trouble. "what the heck..." we had a new member of the family.

Picked HK up from practice that night and told her as pulling into drive, "there's a little surprise for you." "A surprise?" she chirped. "Is it a toy?" "No," i answered.

"is it dessert?" -- why she thinks dessert would constitute a surprise i have no idea. she basically lives on sweets. Totally outsmarting any attempt i make to have her consume any thing that once grew in the ground and that hasn't been processed beyond recognition. "no," i answered again.

We got inside. and john had the wee kitty in his hands. Think she was very thrilled.

slept with the little critter all night long. i was kind of scared for the tiny thing. It's teensy rib cage felt like a healthy sparrow's.

But HK was amazingly gentle and thankfully Joe was amazingly not interested.

So "kitty" made it the first 24 hours.

in that first day he did experience his first piano lesson and swim lesson in kiddy pool courtesy of Peyton Hoopengardner. and "kitty" experienced countless ploppings in the litter box. to unfortunate no effect.

"kitty." What would our new Miles guy be called? Like liberated, feel good mom thought, "it is her kitten." "She can name it." am not getting involved in any way. "Hannie, what is a good name for your kitty?"

"Simba," she announced. hmm. was afraid of that.

So then i proceeded to passive-aggressively nix "Simba, "

"Will," was her next definitive choice.

Free Willy made bizarre lasting impression on her -- have yet to figure that one out.

Felt needed to steer her somewhere. TV has lots of possibilties.

Not believing myself -- i thought of the Rugrats. "Chuckie?" i suggested. "He whines," she said. no, wouldn't want to name kitty after whiner. "Little Bear," she said -- that was it-- Little Bear.

Little Bear.

Could i live with Little Bear? guess not -- for i planted Hk in front of TV and said -- "let's find somebody. "

well, i heard -- "Him." "Let's name him after him." i looked up and object of little pointing finger was Tom of Tom and Jerry.

Well, yes he definitely was a cat. though always thought him human. remember mother said my 2 imaginary friends were "tom and jerry."

when very young james woke up with massive tangled mass in hair --- my explanation to mom was," Tom and Jerry had a party last night."

Guess, that was first of many parties in life i don't remember attending -- but it wasn't till that moment that i suddenly had realization.

"Tom?" as in "tom cat?" Now that is really clever. Can honestly admit i never noticed that little wacky name thing before. guess me, tom and the mouse were too busy partying. You learn something new everyday.



Tom was it then.

haven't made official trip to vet yet. really hope it is actually a "tom."

from my very novice inspection -- i feel jury is still out at this point.




Jingle, Simba now Tom. HK started crying saying her prayers tonight.

Little wee triangular Tom poking out between her arms. "i miss Simba," she sniffled. "But you have this cute kitty." i reminded her.

she said, "i love him.... but he's zero." " Simba was almost 2."

"Enjoy him Hannah, he's so cute... and he won't be a kitten for very long."

ok -- had one of those moments the Lord really poked me in the ribs -- for i was so tired, really going through the prefunctory motions on the prayer tonight. but the Lord spoke to me..."Hannie too, won't be little for very long."

just went in and covered those teensy sleeping legs. teensy Tom -- eyes open -- still snuggled at her side.

Good night babies. both still so small, so tiny ... but guess not for long.