Her Name Was Simba

[Somebody]

I wrote this text more for myself than others but I will still post it here in the hope that the cat site will be online for many years to come wnd with it the memories I share.
This happened in July 2018. I wrote the text afterwards as a form to overcome my grief. I had it on my desk and couldn't bring myself to posting it here. Yesterday my other cat died and that was a reminder I need to put this one on here. Maybe I will put another text on for my recently deceased cat soon.

Due to the length of the text I might cut it into several posts

Thank you for reading

 

[Somebody]

My wife gave her the name after she started showing up in our garden. But I called her by her Kawaii name “Bimba” later on once she lived in our house. She was my little baby and nobody will be able to replace her in my heart.

This is her life.

It is going to be a long text and I don’t blame you if you don’t read it. After all you didn’t know her. But I write this mostly for myself, to let her life pass before me one more time and to read it again in a few years when I will have forgotten all the details. So if you don’t read it, I can’t blame you. If you read it, you learn about an extraordinary little cat. I think so.

The Beginning
Simba showed up in later summer 2012. At first I noticed her in the far corner of our garden, curiously the same spot where our other cat, Findus, showed up first some years earlier. She was much shyer than Findus and stayed mostly hidden. I got the feeling she was merely looking for a place to stay and hide, maybe after being chased away by other cats or humans. She was very small after all.

I started to put food out behind the tree where she seemed to hang out. The tree does not exist anymore now since it rotted away from the inside. Simba started to come and eat the dry food I put out there. My wife wasn’t very fond because we already had a rescue cat inside. She gets along with Findus OK, but overall she is not a pet person. As long as Simba was only in the garden she didn’t really say much. Since I named our first cat, I thought it might make her more accepting if I let her pick a name and she started to call her Simba. A fitting name since this little “lion” was really feisty as I should learn. I planned on keeping her there just wanted to give her a nice place to live for the coming winter. It doesn’t get too cold here in Los Angeles but still the nights can be near freezing, so I went out and bought a pet house and also a pet heating pad that goes inside. Here is the first picture I took of Simba near her house. The two glowing dots in the middle of the pic, that’s her.

 

[Somebody]

This all went on for a while. I became concerned that maybe by feeding her I would lure her away from her home, especially since we took in another stray cat a few years earlier who, as it turned out a while later, had a microchip. Luckily the previous owner did not want her back. But I was worried that I was stealing someone’s cat. So I made a flier with her picture and description and posted it all around the neighborhood, but nobody came forward. I also started to read on the internet about cat “body language” and from the drawings I was pretty sure that I could say that she was a feral cat.

And what a feral she was. She would not let me get too close. She would hiss and only get the food after I left etc. But she quickly started to roam the whole garden, although for some reason she seemed to prefer the right side of the garden, where her house was (that you can see in the background behind her eyes) and only ventured into the left half rarely.

The one thing I did resent was that she was pooping and peeing in the garden. I would have much preferred had she done that in the neighbors garden or even under the trees but she did it mostly in plain sight. Well I guess it was better that way, a cat that poops in the neighbors garden may very well be a target of hostile actions. So I accepted that. Since we don’t really use the garden, I didn’t care much either, but I got some special outdoor shoes which I would not take into the house

At that time the lemon tree in our garden started to show some health problems and died a few years later. Our gardener was quick to blame the cat pee but I wasn’t so convinced. The tree had survived 60 years without irrigation before we bought the house so it’s roots were probably too deep to be “eaten away” by pee. Anyway, I didn’t care, I wouldn’t chase a cat away for a tree. And besides who can eat or drink all those lemons anyway?

As time went by, my goals became more ambitious and I wanted to tame Bimba. At the time I believed her to be 3 or 4 years old because she was so small. We didn’t have her at the vet yet, I couldn’t pick her up and my attitude towards her wasn’t so much that she was “my cat” that I cared to trap her and drag her to a vet, besides I feared that would traumatize her and drive her away so I figured it’s better to let her stay even at the risk of her picking up some illness, for which the chances were slim in my eyes since she didn’t leave the garden so often and I hadn’t noticed any other cats around either. So I figured better take a small risk and have her live in the garden than to drive her away.

So I started to move the house closer to the patio. She didn’t really use the house back there, I believe which was some disappointment since I took great pride in it. Back there at the wall I used to have an Italian looking wall fountain. It was long gone at that time already, too hard to keep clean with all the leaves from the willow tree, but there was a power outlet there for the heat pad. The new location was not close so I had to run an extension cord all the way there. I didn’t want the house too close, partly because I feared she would not accept it, partly because I didn’t want her too close either. You see, we have a mesh door and our other cat Findus likes to rest by the door when the sun shines in and I was afraid of her transmitting illness or maybe even fleas. So I moved the house closer but not too close. Here you can see the new location

 

[Somebody]

And here she is venturing closer to the patio:

It was a good time although she worried me sometimes when she disappeared. In those days she was quite adventurous but wouldn’t disappear for long. Mostly during the night and she was mostly always there in the morning. I never liked the thought of cats being outside, that’s why I took Findus in at the first opportunity when the doc removed the old chip and the would came open, then it had to be stitched and I kept her in for 2 weeks and after that just didn’t let her out anymore.

Now back to little Bimba here. Being closer to the house meant she came to the patio more often. Instead of taking her food to her house, I wanted to start feeding her on the patio. Partly because I wanted her to let me touch her, because I figured sooner or later I might have to take her to a vet and I wanted her to be ready, and partly because out there sometimes insects would get in the bowl. I didn’t want to attract ants in particular because they are hard to get rid of.

So I had the bright idea to put a metal bowl out on the top step of the two step stairway of the garden door. She quickly learned to get her food there and the next step was to put the food out when she was around so she would get used to me giving it to her. Boy was that a theater! I did that by having the bowl outside and then I poured the dry food into the bowl with my hand while opening the metal mesh door a crack just wide enough for my hand to fit through. She hissed, and hit out for my hand so I had to often retract quickly, The hissing was particularly hostile, kind of like a clicking noise like some Africans have in their language followed by an immediate hiss. I never heard that before but I took it as a warning and was always ready to withdraw behind the metal mesh, kind of like a Toreador jumping behind the wooden wall when the bull gets too agitated. Amazingly she never actually hit me or hurt me. I took it like a game and had great fun putting the food out with her close by and be quick enough to escape her wrath, it was great fun. She always ate the food though.

As you can see, this was all still in 2012. During the wintertime I decided to move the house finally to the patio area, to have a better control of her, and also to make her use the house more if possible. Here is a later picture of her new location. Also you can see the tent I built over a garden chair as a protection against the sun:

 

[Somebody]

The gray pipe is a sprinkler. I capped it off so that this outlet would not come on with the rest of the system, partly to not scare her, partly because I did not want the vegetation close to the house to grow too quickly. It became a jungle quickly and it was always a drag to cut back. This was all before the drought we had in California and I had a beautiful garden which has now all but decayed, tropical plants around the perimeter to guard against neighbors eyes and a nice green lawn in the center (with cat pee now) but in those days it was beautiful. Here are a few pics of the whole garden:

In 2013, her second winter, I installed a little pet house heater in her house. that’s what the curtain is for, you have to trap as much heat as possible or it will just float out. The first two years, despite the pad and the heater, she was not using the house very often. I tried to lure her in by putting a bowl with hard food in the far end of the house instead of on the feeder tray and she always went in to eat and then came out. I also sprinkled a lot of catnip inside the house. This seemed to interest her, she then went inside, rubbed her head over the blanket and seemed to generally like it, but it didn’t keep her inside for long either. Eventually she got used to the house and by the end of her outdoor life, the last winter she used the house frequently and oftentimes was more inside than outside. She loved the heat.

However, sometimes I found the dry food thrown up inside the house. I cleaned it up and didn’t think much of it, but as it turned out, it was a problem that should follow her to the end of her short life and perhaps was a symptom of greater problems. We will never know.

 

[Somebody]

By now, little Bimba used all of this side of the garden, but like I said, didn’t go to the other side very often. Maybe she was happy with a small territory. Here is a pic of her sitting under the plants, about where her house used to be before I moved it to the patio:

That used to be her favorite spot and you could often catch her in the shade of those plants. I think this is where I’m going to bury her next week.

She also was not a coward when it came to outdoor dangers. I remember one night when I went outside to put the food down on the patio she walked towards me from the far end of the patio close by the bushes and there an opossum came out of the bushes. Back then I was not aware that leaving catfood outside would attract those animals and others. Later I learned to take the food back inside after Simba was done eating. Anyway, she cut a slight circle around that animal, walked slowly and then gave it an evil hiss while she passed it. She could be quite feisty.

There are some pics of her outdoors and I can’t post them all, for instance this:

and this:

 

[Somebody]

But my favorite is this here, although it’s a bit blurry:

By now, Findus and little Bimba had developed a curious relationship. Whenever I would open the wooden back door, she would come running to the mesh door to say hello to me but every time she saw Findus taking her favorite spot in the sunshine, she came running from across the garden to say hello to her and sniff her through the door. I think she desperately wanted to be Findus friend. Findus on the other hand didn’t even seem to take note of her. Sure in the beginning she hissed a bit but that quickly stopped when she realized she could not get rid of that little bugger that way and she decided to just ignore her. Bimba on the other hand often hung out there as if she was seeking attention from the older cat who seemed to own the space behind that door:

In those days I started to feed her on the patio instead of on the doorstep. She stopped hissing or hitting and was generally nice now. So I got her the feeder you see above so that the bowls were not on the floor and no insects could walk into them. Whenever I went out to put the food in, she would now come, while I was crouching to fill up the bowl, and stride around me, rubbing against my butt and legs while I was bend over. I guess you can imagine my position. Remember I was not able to take her to the doc nor was I able to put flea medication on her in those days, so I was seriously concerned about catching fleas, although I never saw her scratching excessively and did not believe she had any. Still, I had a few cans of, I think it’s called Precor, because Findus got fleas a few years earlier and I went to great length to treat the whole house, getting this special indoor premise spray that is not only a flea killer but also prevents eggs from developing. So I used the leftover to spray my pants every time I got into contact with her. I swear during those months, I used up enough chemicals on myself to hold the whole western front for a month all by myself. I never got any fleas and she never had any either. Here is a picture of her weaseling around me:

 

[Somebody]

Soon I started to give her Temptation treats in between. Oh boy was she all over them. I think she could not believe her luck to get something so delicious. I never tried them myself, but I assume cats find them delicious. So while doing that she was so happy that I figured that she might not notice when I touched her back and neck while she was eating. Sure she shied back but generally during the treat consumption she became more and more oblivious to my touch and I could pet her longer and longer. Soon I was able to pet her while she was eating treats.

After a while I became bold and decided this was a good time when I could put flea medication on her. I practiced on Findus first with whom I had no problems but I tried the quick Samurai attack, put the tube to her neck, squeeze with lighting speed before she would get the message from her nerves that there was something liquid on her and she would start to run. Given the fact that I used the good Advantage Multi for cats which is about 30$ a tube, you can imagine that I did not want to waste any of them. It mostly went well. I think during all that time where I used that technique, I botched one treatment but otherwise I got it. I always had terrible heart beat when I did that because of the fast slick move I had to use. Plus Simba was not stupid, she could feel when I was up to something and then sometimes would not come close or ran away while I was fiddling with the tube cap. I always poked the tube seal inside but still I had to open the tube outside and that was a giveaway when she saw me doing this. It was always great excitement.

Little Bimba was really becoming more and more attached to me and my other cat Findus. My daily live is either happening at day, or at nights, depending on how I can sleep. Most of the time I am awake at nights while my wife sleeps, so that may have helped because I often went out during the night to look after her when she was also active. During the day she mostly slept under the bushes and could not be seen. Oftentimes Bimba would spend literally hours of the night sitting on the stairs, looking through the mesh waiting for either me or Findus to show up. Findus had to pass close by the door to go to the kitchen where her feeding station is and I walk around the house frequently as well. Here is a pic of one of those opportunities. She would do that especially at nights and just sit there:

She also came into the home from time to time. It was my doing because I thought it would be cute to have her come in and out and become friends with Findus. Back then Findus was still an agile younger cat so I did not want to take any chances with her and always locked her in my office when I did my little training sessions with Bimba.

It was a similar effort as the taming one. I opened the mesh door whereupon she would come about as far as the door steps but not farther. She was clearly afraid of going into a house. I lured her with all sorts of food, at first just on the door step and then slowly further inside. Right behind the door is a small area where the laundry machine and the dish washer are with a tile floor, plus Findus’ cat toilet. That is where most of that indoor adventure took place for some weeks.

Slowly she became more confident and ventured farther into the house. Her eyes mostly wandered up the walls and the ceiling, clearly such a closed space was not what she was used to, but she also took great interest in the heavy dining table in that area that is placed against a wall and she often went straight under it because she felt safe there from anybody grabbing her plus she had a good view of the whole living room. That and the two adjacent stairs remained one of her favorite spots during her later life often crossing straight through the living room, under the table or under the chair and waiting there to see what was going on.

In those days it was more of a base to feel safe in the unusual environment. She would turn very nervous when she noticed that I closed the mesh door and would often go straight back there and try to squeeze through it. But since Findus was always locked up, I mostly left the mesh door open. However she never stayed in very long, sometimes wouldn’t even come for food, she was always very skeptical of that strange house thing although she always sat by the closed door, staring inside for hours. She reminded me of one of those vampire tales “What is the most desirable and yet the most unattainable thing? The light!”. She always wanted to be close to us, yet not really be inside with us. Or maybe she wanted but was afraid.

Later I could close the door and she would show me when she wanted back out. Once I could do that, I left Findus out of the office but would stay in between to make sure they did not fight. Findus was always a peaceful cat so there was a little hissing going on but they got used to each other pretty soon. Thankfully because this would become very useful when I had to take her inside.

It was good though that I trained her bit with the house because later she would be needing this training.

 

[Somebody]

A Bit More About Simba

As I said before, Little Bimba was little. I especially noticed her tiny feet compared to Findus who had pretty big paws. Her overall body was tiny, but she had gotten bigger, or should I say fatter over these nearly two years because she ate like a swarm of locusts.

In the beginning, whenever I gave her food she was all over it in an instance and gulped it down as if somebody was standing ready to take it away. I later figured, maybe that’s what a stray cat does, eat whenever the opportunity arises because who knows when the next meal comes along. In nature this might work but with the good cat food and it’s higher calorie count, I suppose the result was that she became fatter. I didn’t notice it that much and I also did not want to spoil her fun about having enough food now, but I could not really leave food just outside for her to eat whenever she felt like it, because she always felt like it. Perhaps that was a reason she got relatively quickly attached to me (for a feral) because she associated me with getting food.

She was not really a great hunter though. I hear most outdoor cats bring rats or birds as gifts to their humans. Simba never did that. Although she vomited a rat on my doorstep once. I saw a curious turd shaped object and was wondering if Simba pooped on our stairs. I thought she might be ill so I examined it closer when I removed it and then saw a claw and a tail in it. I figured she must have eaten a rat or mouse and vomited it up because there was no way that thing could have come out the rear end. I keep thinking that was perhaps the reason why she was so tiny, maybe she never got enough food when she was young. Remember, I thought she was 3 or 4 when she showed up but another vet, shortly before her death, estimated her age and that would have made her at least 8 when she showed up.

She also never played. I tried lots of toys while she was living outside and lots of toys while she lived in the house with us, but she never touched any. I tried spraying them with catnip, I tried playing with her, make her chase something, anything, but she did not show the slightest interest. I never saw her running either, except from me sometimes when I try to catch her, but it was later inside the house and it was more like a fast walk. Now I wonder if maybe her little heart was not too strong and that's why she didn’t hunt much or play or run. And maybe it was her heart that failed her. Again, there is no way of knowing. But even if, what could I have done differently?

She was only moderately fond of catnip. As I told above, I lured her into the cat house with it, but later when she was living with us, sprinkling catnip on her blanked or so where she lived caused her to sniff a bit and maybe lick a little but she didn’t go crazy over it like some cats do.

Her voice was another thing. Actually she didn’t have one at first. She never meowed or made any vocal noise. I learned that too was a sign of a feral since only house cats keep making noise when they grow up. My wife, for some reason, started to do meow noises from inside the house when Simba was sitting on the doorsteps to provoke her and she must have picked that up and started to imitate that, in any case she began to “speak” to us although her meow was really weird. It was always more a crossing between a rooster and a baby, more like a crying noise, but nothing cat like.

Later, when she was living inside with us, her language changed. It became more like a goat’s “meeeee”. Maybe it was because she stopped talking at some point like all feral cats do when they leave their mother and then learned it from us again, so she would never catch a proper cat meow from another cat. She would sometimes “meeee” at me and I would imitate her back and so forth. It was like a contest who would stop first and it was always she who won. It was cute though and very unique. I miss hearing her little voice.

Lastly she liked to sit on the garden chair. We put blankets and pillows on it later and she had a little cave therewith the backrest that was warm enough in the nights.

She also had a little white star on her chest. Other than that she was completely black but that little white spot made her stand out against all other black cats. Her tail showed some “section” like pattern where the fur would fall open in two inch long sections, like one of those toy snakes from sheet metal that children used to play with. On her nose there was a tiny little white spot that often fooled me into thinking there was some dirt.

That was my little Bimba.

 

[Somebody]

A Terrible Event Happened

Well time went on and time was generally good for all of us. Simba didn’t leave the garden too often anymore and we were all happy. In the summer of 2014 I lost my mom. You see we stayed in touch since I moved to LA and chatted every night and then in May I noticed that she forgot to turn on her chat. Twice. When I asked her if she had forgotten about me she just said “Well..”. I knew something was wrong. I contacted other people and the short story is, she had a moderately advanced state of Alzheimer's plus they discovered an intestinal tumor. She went to the hospital in June, they kept her for weeks running all sorts of tests but the diagnosis was clear, she would have to go to a nursing home later. My wife was on vacation at that time, so I could not leave the house. When she came back I flew to my mother but by that time the tumor surgery went bad and she had to have emergency surgery because of a sepsis on the day I landed. She went into a coma and died 3 days later. Her organs were failing, her blood pressure lingered around 50/60 and the doctors told me it was only because of the machines she had a blood pressure at all.

So I had to give the order to turn off the machines since I was the only close relative. Instead of organizing for a home, I now had to organize her funeral.

That year I also learned that my best friend who I hadn’t seen in years died a few years earlier. I was kind of hoping to see him to get some support during my stay, but that wasn’t meant to be either.

I last saw my mother alive in 2012 the year Simba showed up in our garden. In fact I noticed Simba the very first time a day or two before she left us, but I don’t think my mother ever saw Simba.

Well, back in Los Angeles later that year, I became increasingly concerned about Bimba because she got pretty fat. Since I thought at the time she was about 4 years old, because she was so small, I feared the worst, that she had gotten herself pregnant. I was blaming myself in the strongest way possible for not “doing what’s right” and taking her to the vet earlier even if that meant that she might run away or so, but I just couldn’t bear the thought that I did anything to chase her away. Well turned out that was also in stock for me.

Since I had the very real fear that she might be pregnant I decided I had to take her. Also the winter was coming again and I thought she must have vaccinations. By that time I was able to pick her up and carry her around on the patio. So I put the carrier out on the table and then one day just put her in. At that time I was with a vet who required appointments so I made one with him early morning with the understanding that I could call and terminate should I not catch her. We agreed for a possible surgery in case she had to be spayed. The vet said even if she’s pregnant and not too far it would be basically an abortion at the same time. Since I could not see myself taking care of 10 kittens, especially with my wife not being fond of pets and lots of stray cats in our neighborhood already (there’s a cat lady living up the street who takes care of God knows how many strays) I could not see myself placing them with different families either.

So, all went well to that point. I grabbed her, put her in the carrier and off we went. Man, she was screaming all the time, but so what. The doc checked her out, gave her vaccinations and deworming, determined that she had no fleas, no Aids, but said that I would have to come back for another shot in a week or so since he didn’t have the right stuff for all the vaccinations which kind of stunned me already. But that was not the worst part. He then said we had to first determine if she was already spayed maybe (by that time we knew she didn’t have a chip since now that was the first thing I asked for). So the doc called one of his “technicians”, who changed all the time. This particular one looked like a mixture of Bigfoot and Robinson Crusoe. I didn’t like him right away. So the doc gave him the carrier to take her back to shave her belly so she could be checked. Up to then she took it all reasonably well. When the dude came back she was looking really shocked and traumatized in the carrier, I could tell right away. God alone knows how they brutalized her to shave her. The good news was that she was already spayed. I was amazed since she was so young, or so I thought, when she showed up. I wondered who would spay such a young feral cat and then drop her back on the streets. I heard that of older cats in a catch and release program but not for such young ones. Shortly afterwards we changed to another doctor because of some things with Findus.

Anyway, I was glad no surgery was needed and went home. Since she was pretty agitated, I decided to let her out of the carrier inside the home. Before that, I was able to lure her into the home with food as I told above. So she was used to the living room but when I let her out she was just all crazy, went to the door, wanted out. I thought letting her out was probably better than traumatizing her further by locking her up, I let her out and then maybe by the evening she would have calmed down. She jumped out, then stood there on the right side of the garden, looking confused, looked back at me and then went off under the bushes that go all around the garden wall. I thought OK, let her be.

That evening she didn’t show up.

I immediately began to fear the worst and blamed myself in the strongest terms for this unfortunate adventure, of course also cursing the clumsy or brutal helper at the vet’s office. But what could I do? Of course I walked around the garden at night rattling the food bowl or crunching the bag with Temptation Treats but nothing! I was desperate and for the first time I realized that she was more to me than just a visitor to the garden. Perhaps it was due to all the work I did to get her to trust me and let me touch her, perhaps she had already sneaked her way into my heart back then without me realizing it.

I did my best to hide my devastation from my wife because you never want to show to a woman weakness.

So after two or three days, I printed fliers with a picture and offered a 100$ reward for any help, then posted them around the neighborhood on lamp post, power posts and also delivered them to people’s mailboxes. Our neighborhood, in these days was a quiet one with blocks of back to back houses in a rectangular pattern, the typical planned suburb. So I went mostly to the streets “behind” our house because that was the direction she would likely take off but also to the other side.

I did get a few calls, most notably from the neighbor two houses over to the north in the attached lane, a two story house they built a few years ago instead of the old one. I believe it is a bunch of younger Mexicans that live there, I only ever saw younger people there. They have some garden furniture in the front yard but they have never been a nuisance or making excessive noise, although they had a few parties there, but more in the past than now. I guess that is the usual thing when you have a new or even first time house. It was the same with us.

So he called me over and pointed out several black cats. One, he said, he had observed often in his backyard (toward the direction of our line of lots) and beyond. This, or another one, would often cross across the properties, then walk over the street to the houses on the other side. That didn’t really sound like Simba though, but I investigated further. He was very helpful (no doubt motivated by my reward) and showed me to a neighbor across the street where he had seen the cat. He took me there and talked to the neighbor who, according to my Mexican guide, was a weird old man who lived alone. His property looked a little run down but he was reasonably friendly. He told me that a black cat would often come to take a dump in his back yard and then he had to clean it up. I was convinced it wasn’t Simba but asked them to call me when they saw the cat in question.

I can not remember every detail anymore but I think I got a call, or was it this first one, I don’t know, where I put the carrier in my car and rushed over. It might all have been the same visit or it might have been two. Things blur in memory and that is why I write all this down as long as I can remember most of it.

Anyway this whole line of investigation went nowhere. Clearly Simba had not been absent often enough to be that regular visitor. Also, and I learned that during my frequent strolls I took through the neighborhood, both during daylight and during the night (our neighborhood is pretty safe these days), that there are a lot of black stray cats around. At first I I got jumpy at every sighting but it was never her. Still I could not help but wonder why most of these stray cats were black.

I became more and more desperate and wandered around the house like a ghost at night, through the garden, hoping to see her. Kind of like I have been doing every night since Saturday July-7 (today is Tuesday night). Only this time, I know she won’t be coming back. Back then I still had hope although it dwindled with every day.

After nearly two weeks I decided that I had probably chased her away for good with that doctor visit and started to pack up her stuff, although I could not throw it all away just yet. Most of her stuff went in plastic bags into the garage ready to be thrown away one day and I put the house somewhere in the garden out of sight, but in such a way that it would not be damaged by the sun or rain because I figured maybe one day I would need it again. And indeed, as I am writing this we have another little rescue cat living in the garden using the very same house that once belonged to my little Bimba. And she keeps me up and worried about outdoor dangers just like Bimba did.

I took some pictures of her place on the patio before I packed everything up. You can see the catnip that I sprinkled everywhere like crazy in the hope of attracting her:

 

[Somebody]

I really missed her little black face staring through the mesh door for hours every night and was especially heartbroken because I blamed myself for it. Had I not forced that doctor visit on her, this would not have happened.

The fateful vet visit was around October-2-2014 because that is the day that I entered Simba’s date into the AKC-Reunite database. I got her a microchip that day and I didn’t really know that I would have to activate the “lost pet” help call the very next day already.

During these two weeks I made frequent visits to the city shelter a few miles away. It’s the only shelter for our area and all captured animals go there. Of course the microchip alert would go out there, but I wanted to make sure I would get her in case she was placed there, but of course she never showed up. The shelter is a pretty good place, but it’s hard to see all these cats in their cages who desperately need to find a home when you can’t do anything about it.

I had all given up on her by now and was trying to get used to live going on without her. One night I left my office room for the kitchen. In those days, Findus was still a bit younger and more agile and she often followed me to the kitchen because I would give her either some treats or different food when she came along with me. I walked through the dark house, passed the open garden door and went into the kitchen while Findus somehow stayed behind. When I arrived in the kitchen, I heard a meow from behind me. I noticed right away that it did not sound like Findus and I went to the mesh door and there she was again!

I was so relived! There was that little black spot right before the door in the dark garden crying miserably. My first impulse was to open the door and get her inside but then I didn’t want to scare her away again. Obviously she was happy to be home so she would not run away right away again was my reasoning, so I got a can of wet food, which I usually did not feed her due to insects and such outside, and went outside. I put the food bowl on the ground and let her come and eat it.

She looked much thinner than before and very agitated. Over the course of the night I let her calm down, went out frequently to pet her and slowly she settled back in. She looked a bit puzzled that all her stuff was gone, I could tell that much and so as to make her feel more at home I got the stuff out of the garage quickly and set it all up for her again. Within a day or two it was as if she had never been away and I was very happy!

The next day I went out and took down all the fliers. One man who sat outside on a patio chair in front of his house asked me “Did you find the kitty?” which I found very nice of him, it showed me that people read those fliers.

I tried to figure what happened. From her weight loss I could only conclude that she neither had much luck hunting nor got food from anybody else. My best guess was that she was so panicked by the shave that she just ran away when I put her out into the garden and ran beyond her normal radius and thus lost track of her way back. As I told before our area consists of lengthy rectangular blocks of single house lots. I guess that she must have stayed somewhere, perhaps strolling around randomly without knowing where her home was and that it was pure chance that she found her way back that night. I don’t believe that she wanted to run away and stay away for a time because she was frightful or angry and then decided to come back. I think she just lost her way and it was pure luck that she found her way back to us.

Well that adventure ended well after all.

 

[Somebody]

Simba Changes Her Residency Forever

After this scary adventure things returned to normal for a while with nothing extraordinary that I remember. Sometime in early 2015 things heated up again but in a different way.

First of all, part of these events is that Findus my indoor cat got seriously sick and remained so for the whole year, so sick that I contemplated putting her down at some point. It also crossed my mind if it was possible that Simba gave Findus the infection she was fighting, although Simba did not show any signs like Findus. Maybe she was immune and just a carrier? Another thing I contemplated was possibly Findus got infected at the vet’s office where she got some vaccination that goes through the nose, some form of drops. But then again, why would Simba not show any signs? We never found out where Findus got infected nor why Simba never showed the same symptoms. Maybe the illness manifested differently in Simba and Findus, but it’s unlikely in my eyes. Maybe Findus’ problems came from her often rubbing her face and eyes due to her allergies. But since this is not Findus’ story but that of little Bimba, I leave it at that without going into more details than what is necessary to understand our story.

Sometime in early 2015 Simba got an eye infection. I noticed it quickly. One day she looked fine, the next day she had red eyes. I knew enough to understand that this was most likely an eye infection. I decided to give it one more day, see if it was something else that goes away and if not to get her to the doctor the next day.

Simba had her daily routine in those days. She came out in the early evening around sun set, having spend most of the daytime sleeping under the bushes on the right side of the garden or inside her heated house. Since it was winter she was mostly in her house around that time. Then she would be out all night long, spending a good amount of time sitting on the stairs looking into the house for any signs of Findus or myself, sometimes strolling around the garden and very rarely in those days adventuring into the neighbor’s gardens. In the morning hours she would then disappear under the bushes.

So after that night I decided unless it has gotten better I would get her in the following night toward the morning and either put her in the carrier or take her inside the house for a few hours until the doctor opened. I can not remember if we were still with that doctor who’s lab-tecs treated Simba so badly or not. I know sometimes during Findus year of illness I changed because the old doctor gave me a vacant stare and a “I can give her a steroid shot but beyond that I don’t know what else to do” but I can’t remember if we did that already or not. I tried to check my old vet bills but the one about Simba’s eyes is missing.

That next evening though she didn’t show up as usual. I put out her food and called her but she didn’t show. I wasn’t really worried that she might have taken off again, I assumed she was hiding under the bushes because she was not feeling well. For a moment I thought about trying to find her under the bushes and dragging her out, but I quickly realized that she would only panic and possibly run away which now, with her infected eyes, would be very bad. So the only course of action I had was to wait. After all the night had just begun.

I took the food inside so she would not be able to come out, eat and hide again without me noticing. I spend most of the first half of the night going back and forth to the open door and sure enough, around 1-2 in the morning she showed up. I saw her crawling out from under the bushes by the house just as I predicted. She came to the back door which I opened for her.

Now, you have to understand that until that time still, I always had a hard time getting her to actually cross that threshold of the door. She would always come to the open door and stop right there by that threshold and I had to lure her in with food and snacks and she would only come in after making a great show of hesitation. This night however she marched straight in and into the house when I opened the door. To me it seemed as if she was looking to me for help. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I felt a sense of responsibility here when a little stray kitty turns up and acts as if she understands that you can bring her help.

So, the first thing I did was close the door behind her, which would otherwise be a big deal because she understood that meant she could not leave, so in the past I mostly left the door open when she was inside. Sometimes I closed the door but she would always quickly go back and demanded to be let out. This time she was not eager to get out. At least not right away. I remember my thoughts at that moment. After all she was an outdoor kitty and not used to being inside for a longer time. I had planned to get her in as late in the night as possible so that her time as captive would be minimized but now I realized the danger of that plan. If I let her out, who was to say she would come back at 4 or 5 and not hide under the bushes again? So my mind was made up then, I would have to keep her inside half of the night until the doctor opened in the morning.

It was a very long night. The first 2 hours or so she was busy exploring everything and I also kept her occupied by lying down on the couch, picking her up and then giving her some cat treats. She quickly liked that part of being inside and that night she established a pattern that she would keep up for the rest of her short life. Whenever I lied down on the couch, that was a sign for her to climb on my chest. At first to look for treats but in the last two years or so, she did that without any treats, just to be there with me and be petted.

Well this night was a very active one. After a while she had enough, although I didn’t overfeed her with the snacks, but still and she began to realize that the way out was locked. That’s when she started to scream. Her weird way of meowing was not too cat like but it was loud. Of course my wife in the bedroom got somewhat distracted, but usually she has a deep sleep and does not wake easily. I can’t remember her coming out and making a big fuss, maybe she watched TV, maybe she was asleep, I can’t remember anymore, but for me it was stressful. I don’t like to keep pets in a situation they don’t want to be in, but sometimes it’s up to us to decide what’s best since they don’t know, and here I definitely knew I had to keep her inside.

After she calmed down a little she went to hide in a closet folding door that was halfway open like this:

I had to search her in the morning, after I fell asleep a bit on the couch and found her in the angled fold of the door. It was a bit of work to get her out. She never went back there though, I guess over the next days there was too much to discover, plus she would get her own house to hide in.

There was also the problem with my other cat Findus. I had her locked into the office and I was worried about the toilet situation since we had only one cat toilet. I was always looking at the clock, but as it is when you are looking forward to a certain point in time, time goes slowly. I won’t tell any more details because there weren’t any, it was always the same. Giving treat, trying to pet her, having an eye on the clock how long before she would start to scream again.

Finally it was time that the vet opened. I hadn’t slept at all that night, but due to my irregular days I was somewhat used to that. So I put her in the carrier, went to the vet and had her checked. The vet said it was a strong eye infection but nothing too bad. He gave her an antibiotic injection but told me I had to give her eye drops twice a day for two weeks!

Now that was a bummer, because I hoped he would somehow be able to cure her there and then magically. But I knew instantly that I could not let Simba out again. How was I to guarantee I could grab her every 12 hours to give her the eye drops? So I knew I had to keep her inside for that time and I knew I was in for a fight with my wife. Luckily in those days, I had somewhat of a leverage over her and was able to push something like this through especially since I could argue that the cat needed it and that she would not want to be responsible for her getting worse or even die. Not that it would have bothered her very much but I did not expect her to admit that openly. So I was pretty sure I could insist on this.

I asked the vet to give her some injection that would calm her down (I Remember now as I write this, it was our new vet) and he said he could give her some strong tranquilizer that is used before surgeries and such, but it would make her REALLY groggy and he warned me she would look weird with her back hanging all low like a bridge, but he told me not to worry. So I got this injection. The reasoning was that she would be sleeping and be calm all day and thus it was easier to introduce the new room mate to Findus, because it was clear that the two now had to get along.

While I was preparing Simba’s new corner she crawled out of the carrier and was dragging herself through the living room, she was really pitiful to look at just like the doctor sad. At one point she was just walking over Findus who was lying in the living room, I think she didn’t even realize Findus, who tried to hit her for that, but didn’t really do it forcefully more like a little bitch slap to teach her not to do that anymore. Maybe she noticed that Simba was weak and not aggressive.

I had a little cat box that has a scratch coating outside and carpet inside. I bought that last Christmas for Findus but was she never really interested in it. We used it more as a stepping tool for Findus to jump on my desk. I took that and moved that into the far corner of the living room and then put Simba inside. She was already sleeping and I thought this would be the best opportunity to go the pet store and get some supplies since my wife would not be bothered by her while she was inside sleeping. I got her a toilet and some litter that I hoped would remind her of the outdoors (walnut shell powder) and some pretty good food. It was only later that I learned that all of this contributed to Findus’ allergy but at that time we hadn’t run a test yet.

 

[Somebody]

Anyway, during that day Simba came out to eat and drink and also went to the toilet without any problems which surprised me because she had never used such a box, but apparently cat’s have a natural tendency not to do it on hard surfaces and seek a surface they can dig in. Here are the first pictures I took of Simba in her new habitat:

Findus and Simba quickly got along and established a first relation towards each other, although that would change at least twice over time but for now there seemed to be tolerance on Findus side, because she was always a nice and soft kitty and on Simba’s side, probably because she realized that she was in foreign territory and better behave. Cats have a strong understanding of “their” realm and when they are in another cat’s area they behave usually polite as to not get into fights unless they want to fight over territory. But anyway, these two got along well for now.

The first few weeks Simba stayed in the cat house all day long and in the evening come out. My wife would go to bed early because she felt bothered by all this so I had the living room to myself where I would spend a lot of time with Simba, mostly lying down on the couch, with Simba jumping on my chest where I gave her cat treats.

Soon I was able to move Simba’s food bowls to the kitchen where Findus also had hers and the two even got used to eating together. Findus had her bowl at one end and Simba around the corner and that order would be kept up until the end with each knowing where their food was. In the beginning there was still a bit of chaos, but soon the order would be established. Here is the first picture I took of that:

 

[Somebody]

During these first nights she was getting very loud. She screamed and went to the back door trying to get out. Not only there but she tried all sorts of escapes. One time I caught her sitting in the open bathroom window. Luckily we have insect mesh fixed everywhere and luckily I caught here right away because I can imagine that she might have destroyed the mesh. Of course I kept the bathroom door closed after that.

We have little foot boards or kick boards under the kitchen cabinets and the one under the sink was never really fixed when the house was remodeled before we bought it, so there were two openings on both sides of the sink cabinet and I caught her trying to crawl into one, probably trying to find a way out. Again luck was with me, or her, because that could have ended badly. At last I took the opportunity to get some screws and finally fixed the board myself.

Other than that she was mostly loud, but not aggressive or anything. The eye drop business went well, amazingly. She did not fight and I could put the eye drops in her eyes twice a day. I was a bit worried about her pooping habit so I gave her all sorts of oily food. We also had a routine right from the first night where I was lying down on the couch and lifted her up to sit on my lap or chest. She liked that position because I gave her treats there and she kept jumping on me later on whenever I lied down. In those early nights I used that to also massage her belly in the hopes of getting her to poop. After all I did not have any idea how often she did that outside, but now I had to keep an eye on it. Well that massaging and the excitement in those early days did the trick I guess because one night, I can’t remember if it was the first or one of the later nights, she did poop a lot and right there on me!!!

That was the first time somebody actually shit on me!!! Well I didn’t want to freak her out and hold it all back in so I waited until she was done (yuk) then put her down and dragged myself in the most awkward of positions, so as to not drop anything, to the backdoor and into the garden, turned on the hose, hosed me off, then got naked (it was after midnight, so nobody could see me), packed my clothes and threw them into the laundry machine and then went right under the shower. It was a mess, but already then I was more concerned about Simba than about any mess she made. I didn’t tell my wife until years later because she was already angry enough about the second cat, the commotion and the noise.

I spent the first two weeks or so sleeping on the couch and that’s probably how Simba got used to that situation and how this came to be one of her favorite spots and occasions to be with me. First because of the treats, no doubt, but later I stopped giving them and she still came. She liked it especially when she could lie down on my chest and then play with my shirt collar, rub it around her head and play all sorts of games with it.

Simba didn’t know the difference of being on the couch and being on the coffee table and my wife resented that of course so I had to train her. I couldn’t bring myself to chase her down rigorously but I was able to teach her with a mixture of stern talk and picking her up from the table and putting her back on the couch. She dropped that habit pretty quickly and never went back on the table once she stopped doing it.

I also had two DVDs with cat videos, birds, mice and such, supposedly cats love to watch it, so I put them on the big screen at nights and also had one on a portable DVD player I got for my birthday a few years earlier that I placed on the ground. I thought it would make her feel more like being outdoors. I don’t think she showed a lot of interest in them, maybe at first a little but it seemed like she mostly ignored them, after a few weeks I stopped playing them.

The eye infection did go away as planned all was fine. Later on she had problems with the eyes again and we had to repeat that treatment, the doc had to give her some other antibiotics but after that it was all fixed and never returned. It was only then that I realized that she had always some discharge from the eyes. I noticed that while she was living outdoors but it was never much and didn’t bother her so I did not take her to the vet in those days, especially since she was still wild, but after the second eye infection problem a few months later her eyes were clear and never again showed any form of discharge or problems.

After the two weeks of initial treatment were gone I should have let her back out, but I didn’t want to. Partly because I told myself she might have forgotten the outdoor geography and might get lost, partly because I was never too fond of cats out doors because of all the danger and partly because I wanted to keep her inside. My wife didn’t like the idea but in those days she didn’t really object and just let me have my will. However she insisted that the bedroom door had to be closed and the bedroom would be off limits. In the past we had the door open at nights and Findus used to sneak in and sleep on the bed in the lower corner on my side but that had to stop now. I thought I had to give something too in return for Simba staying inside so I figured I give in here and thus made a deal. I set up some nice bedding in my office as a replacement for Findus and both cats got used to the situation quickly.

Simba was also very clever. Missing the outdoors, she often climbed on the backrest of the living room sofa to look out of the window, or looked through the window from my desk. At nights, I closed the indoor shutters of course which are made from wood. She quickly figured out how she could open the shutters though and she did that every morning when the sun started to rise so that she could have an eye on the front yard. My wife asked me if I left the blinds open and so we found out who was responsible for that. She kept that habit to her last day. Whenever she wanted to look outside, a quick push with her paw and the view was there.

But the noise was nearly a deal breaker because Simba kept crying for hours. At some point she figured that I was behind the bedroom door when I started sleeping in my bed again and often came crying there. Thinking back it’s a miracle that my wife did put up with this. I can’t really remember how it went along but gradually she stopped crying at night. After a while all that remained of her unhappiness was a scratching at the metal door (this time from the inside) whenever the garden door was open. This went on for nearly a year, since the eye episode was early in 2015. Once winter came and we had to keep the garden door shut she stopped going to the backdoor and in the next spring when we left the door open again, the scratching and meowing was all gone and little Bimba had successfully transferred from a feral cat to an indoor cat within 3 years total.

And that’s the story of how Simba came to live with us.

 

[Somebody]

Three And A Half Short Years Of Happiness

Where to start this chapter?

In contrast to Simba’s outdoor years there are no major events anymore that I could list in order. There is a general evolution of her behavior, how she fitted in with us, what she did, her little quirks and, in hindsight, her deteriorating health. It is often so that one can not see change that is happening gradually and slowly. Later when you look at pictures or recall memories from years ago and compare them with the present, it’ is often obvious. “How could I not have seen this?!” But while it happens we don’t see it. We look in the mirror every day and marvel how we just look like in High School but when we actually look at old pictures of ourselves, we suddenly see the change. So was it with little Bimba.

The first task for her, after her eyes were better was to find her place in our home and in the hierarchy. Findus has been the number 1 of course, being the only pet in the house. Luckily Findus is a very gentle cat and not belligerent at all. Findus had a few favorite spots, one was on a blanket on my desk and the other on the backrest of the living room couch where she could look through the window and the third one was the couch itself. All three spots became quickly occupied by Simba. I don’t know if she did it to assert her new status or because they just seem like good spots to cats and Findus didn’t want to fight over them. Here is Simba on the desk, her absolute favorite spot, perhaps because it was close to my work place:

First she claimed it, but in the last year or so she and Findus occupied it on a first come forst serve basis. Now Findus has reclaimed it and does not use the other replacement spots anymore.

I placed an ottoman in front of the desk, mostly because Findus now had to wear a cone (which she would for most of 2015 due to a bad infection that made her eyes run and itch) and soon I moved Simba’s original house under the desk and later the question of who sleeps where was simply one of who got on top first and the other would go under the desk:

The penthouse as I called it, the one under the desk would also get the heating pad from the outdoor house for the winter and I would install an infrared lamp over the desk for the place on top of the desk, mainly because we turned the temperature down in the house during night times, at least during phases where I would sleep at nights and be up for the day which would happen for some months but then it always shifted around. I did that during the first winter where Simba mostly slept on top and Findus under the desk where the computers gave additional heat.

However in the first winter Simba developed some cough. I was not sure if it had anything to do with the infrared lamp. So I didn’t do it in the second winter but rather spend the extra money to keep up the room temperature during night times. Also, the vet gave Simba a steroid shot because he said it is probably chronic but it went away after that without the need of constant steroids.

Here is a picture with them sharing the favorite couch spot:

Soon the couch would be damaged badly by Simba. It was the only place where she ever tried to sharpen her nails, but of course leather is not suited to sharpen or remove a cat’s nails so the only result was that the couch got ruined. My wife, amazingly, didn’t make too big of a fuzz. We covered that armrest and the backrest with blankets later.

A big thing for Simba was her first Christmas. She loved the tree, probably because it reminded her of the outdoors and often hid under it. It didn’t matter to her that it was a fake one. We put one up the next year as well, but it is my believe that Findus hurt her eyes while rubbing her face. Findus often has itch problems from her allergies and her constant eye irritation, so I believe that she rubbed her face and perhaps hurt her eye because shortly after that second Christmas she had some bad eye injury and needed surgery. So I decided to not put up the tree again while Findus is alive much to my wife's dismay. So Simba only experienced two Christmas trees before she died. Here is my favorite Christmas pic with her:

 

[Somebody]

I tried my best to get Simba to use different scratchpads but she never did. Later on I had to take her to the vet from time to time to cut the nails. I had a special clipper but she would make a terrible fuzz when I tried it, so it was easier for me to take her to the vet and pay the 15$ for a quick and clean cut, plus I didn’t have to worry about cutting too deep. I noticed it was time when I realized that I could hear her walk on the hardwood floor and the clack-clack noise from her nails signaled that they became too long.

During her first year she would often hang out at the backdoor as I wrote above. Later not anymore. Findus always loved the backdoor in the afternoon when a bit of sunshine fell through the door. Rarely you could catch both together by the door but not often. I think Findus did not like the noise Simba made there. Here is a pic of Findus and Simba together:

She also never played or chased anything. I can not remember seeing her run, except when she felt chased. She had a peculiar habit in the way that you could not touch her except on the couch, the spot in the picture above, or on my desk. Anywhere else in the house, when I approached her she would quick-walk away and hide under a table or anywhere else where she thought she was save. Sometimes when she was walking and I got close behind her, I would bend over quickly and grab her and pick her up. She would not hurt me, but boy was she screaming and struggling. She never liked being picked up or being on my arm not even when I was sitting at my desk and she would come to sit next to me. But pick her up and hold her, I could not.

One funny habit that played into that was the big oval coffee table in the living room. You can see part of it here on the right with the couch behind it from the camera’s view point:

She would come into the living room then sit under that table on the other side between the table and the couch in a safe spot. Form there she would sometimes start a march around the table, always counter clockwise. Sometimes when I was lying on the couch she would sit down there, like she was preparing to jump but wasn’t sure, then walk around the table, once or twice, coming back to the same spot and then finally jump up. Sometimes I chased here around the table. Walk up behind her, then she would walk around the table with me following her. She never got the idea to go elsewhere to shake me off, always kept walking in circles. Silly little cat.

Simba was always scared. It’s amazing because outdoors she was often bold like when she scared that opossum, but indoors she would scare easily, mostly from noise, but later also sometimes when I took her to the vet, and every time she go really scared, she would pee, I guess just like the stereotype of the coward leaving a yellow trail. I guess that part of the saying is based on biology.

In those days we had a cleaning service that came once a week to clean up the house. Now with two kitties we had to be extra careful that none could get away, so I established strict rules. First both cats would go into the office and nobody was to open that door, Then, when they were done cleaning the bedroom, I would move the cats over and close the bedroom door while the crew cleaned the rest.

The first times were a disaster. Although the cats behaved and didn’t try to run or panic, Once I came back into the bedroom to let the cats out, Simba had peed on the newly made bed. You can imagine my wife’s reaction. Luckily she was sitting on the pillows so I could just take out the pillows and wash them in the machine. Had that been on the main blanket it would have been a job for the dry cleaner. The week before that, I noticed that she had peed on the floor, but since it didn’t stink I was able to clean it up before my wife discovered it. But the bed thing was impossible to cover up.

After that I was more careful. I decided I had to stay with the cat and hold her, sitting on a blanket folded with several layers so that she would pee on the blanket and I could easily wash it. That worked. For several month we established that routine. I also appreciated it because it gave me the opportunity to stay away from the cleaners and let my wife handle them. Call me old fashioned but I think it is the duty of the house wife to deal with domestics even with rented ones.

After a few months Simba wasn’t afraid that much. She had learned the routine, she had learned that the noise from the vacuum didn’t hurt her and so after a year or so she hadn’t peed in months so I declared that we could stop that and really, she never peed again during cleaning sessions.

Her relation with my other cat Findus was also a bit curious. As I wrote above, little Bimba was quite dominant and Findus just let her take the first place. I feel a bit guilty that I allowed Simba to displace Findus as number 1 but she was so aggressive with her demand for attention and at the same time so cute, I couldn’t be angry with her. The location on my desk became the most important location for both, probably because my wife didn’t show any interest in the cats and they wanted to be close to me instead. So the general situation was Simba on the desk and Findus below either on the cat house or on the ottoman that I placed as stepping stool in front of the desk. Sometimes Findus would jump up to come over to me and sit on my lap.

Oftentimes when Findus went past Simba, here or elsewhere, Simba lashed out and hit Findus on the head. Not hard or with the nails out but a good tap. Findus became aware of that and tried to keep some distance to Simba. It didn’t happen often but often enough. I tried to talk tough to her to get her out of that habit. I’m not sure if that helped but during the last year of her life, it had completely stopped. Instead when Findus was sitting on my lap while I was typing at the computer and she passed by us from her place on one side of the desk to the other, she would stop and lick Findus head for a while. Findus seemed to like it and she didn’t show fear of Simba later.

Simba was always fond of Findus despite the tap on the head thing. When she was living outdoors she came running when I opened the door and she saw Findus and when she was inside she never really fought with Findus not even in the beginning when I introduced her. Maybe because I worked on her for a while and had her come inside and visit before she had to stay inside. However this was not a general social behavior. In this last year, where we have another cat, Luna, living in the garden who I am trying to socialize as well, she was not fond of her coming inside to visit. There was hissing when they got too close and Simba always retreated into the office under the desk where she could feel safe. Perhaps it’s different if you want to come inside and want something or if you are inside and have to give something. I don’t know, but Simba never got along with the outdoor kitty.

Speaking of licking, Simba was great at licking my hand or arm. It was like she really wanted to do this a lot. She wasn’t sloppy though, it was always dry and it was very rough, as cat tongues are, but whenever she had the opportunity, she did that. I had to get up so often and go to the bathroom to wash my hands after that, but I couldn’t bring myself to telling her not to do it. She liked it and washing hands is a quick thing, so I let her do it.

 

[Somebody]

What else can I remember about little Bimba?

She developed a nasty habit of sneaking up on me and then sitting under my desk chair. Sometimes she would announce herself by scratching on the plastic rug that I have under my chair to protect the hardwood floor. Sometimes, but not always. Then, at times when I forgot to look behind me I rolled back and only caught her in the corner of my eyes. I always yelled at her, mostly out of shock, but also to train her that this was not a good place to sit. Findus once lost a bunch of her long butt or tail hair when I rolled over them and she jumped up to run away, ripping the hair out with her own panic. Luckily she was not seriously hurt, but cat’s under a desk chair can result in broken bones or even death so I figured, I have to scare her there for her own good. Yet she never go the message and came there to the last day. In the last year she had learned that sitting there and yelling at me would result in me getting up and giving her food in the kitchen, so most of the time later she would announce herself that way. But not always. But nothing ever happened to her there.

Speaking of food, she was fond of cream cheese and nachos. Not that I gave her often or a lot, but ever so often when I sat at my computer with a toast with Philadelphia cheese she would come and sit besides me, then sometimes I put a bit of cheese on a piece of paper or so and gave it to her. She liked it very much. Same with nachos, the plain one with no salt, for dipping. I would crumble one and gave it to her on paper. She loved it.

She had a very rough, hard fur. My other cat is a long hair mixed one and she has very soft fur and the cats I had in the past were short but not so rough. Simba was truly rough, plus she always had some dandruff problem, small skin particles coming off. Maybe I should have washed her from an early day on but it wasn’t really bad, only small particles and it never seemed to bother her. But she did shed hair a lot. I could brush her for hours (although she would try to get away after 5 minutes) and there was still hair coming out. The blankets she slept on were black with hair after 2 week and I had to wash them constantly. My desk was always covered in hair once she made herself at home on it. It was bothering me, but now that I write this and my desk is squeaky clean, I wish I had that back.

She followed me around the house, when she wasn’t sleeping. Oftentimes when I got up, both cats were sleeping in the office. They would notice that I came out of the bedroom, then went to the bathroom. When I came out after a while, Bimba was often sitting directly on the doorstep pressed against the door, so close that she often got scared when I opened the door. They would then walk before me to the kitchen Where Findus would sit right before the food bowl and Simba sitting under the dining room chair where she had a good look at the kitchen. Only when she was really hungry would she walk into the kitchen, turn around and then go to the food station and wait there with Findus. When I walked to the kitchen from my office she would often follow my which prompted my wife to say “Oh, here comes trouble...”

She often drooled and lost spittle. No idea why.

Her daily routine on the desk was often so that she would sleep on her blanket, then suddenly wake up, walk across the desk to my right site, sit on that part of my L-shaped desk and bump her head into my right arm. She would not stop until I turned my attention to her and petted her. Then she would mostly sit down, facing my keyboard and watch me work for an hour or so and then finally go back to her blanket and sleep some more.

She actually behaved like a baby, that’s why I called her that. She was after me all the time, waited until I came out of the bathroom, cried without reason, and never really seemed to be able to be by herself much of the time, despite her origin as a feral cat. Adult cats usually become more solitaire. Not so Bimba. She was around me 75% of her waking time, and I loved it.

I thought she had made quite a progress for a feral kitty. In only 3 years she had become a very loving house kitty. I often told her “You can be proud of yourself. Look how far you have come” since most feral cats don’t even get the chance to live in people’s garden let alone move into the house and become attached to somebody like she was to me. Nor do they dind somebody who loves them like I loved my little Bimba. She was truly a remarkable and lucky cat!

This is all I can remember of my little Bimba.

 

[Somebody]

Simba’s Path To Death

At first all seemed fine. After Simba got settled in we had a brief time during which all was fine. She had the second eye infection but with that healed, even her constant eye discharge was gone and I was confident that we had another 10 or 12 years ahead of us. At that time I thought she was only5 or 6 when in reality she was already more like 9 or 10, just her tiny figure made her look so young.

Times went on but I noticed that she had more and more episodes where she would vomit up food. Only hard food at first. It happened maybe every other week or sometimes even less, always directly after she ate. So I figured it is a sensitive stomach especially since I read from other cat owners that some cats just do that and throw up a lot without health problems.

Still at some point during our regular checkups with the vet I talked about it. The vet took X-Ray pics and said that all looked normal. Her esophagus was a bit oddly shaped, he said, perhaps that. He recommended getting a special food bowl with labyrinthic features that forces cats to eat slowly and get the food out with their feet. I got one but it just would not work. I don’t understand how any cat could get their feet into those small gaps to get out food. So I had to give that up after a few weeks and return to the regular food bowl.

By then feeding was a bit stressful because we learned that Findus had allergies and the allergy report gave us a list of foods she could not eat. So I had to get food without those ingredients which was not easy but I got some hard food that both liked but the soft food was more difficult, however I found a few ones that they could eat. At that time I didn’t want to have to serve them up on demand and then pick up their food so that the other couldn’t get to it.

Simba also had some coughing every now and then. At first the doc thought some asthmatic thing and gave her a steroid shot and it mostly went away but every now and then she would cough somewhat. Strangely enough this last year she didn’t really do that anymore.

However the vomit thing became more and more frequent. Whenever she vomited she made a screaming noise like a child that screams out, not the usual guttural noise cats make when they throw up hairballs. Also she hadn’t thrown up hairballs with any of these. Another thing that has bothered me from the beginning was some sort of hard thing on her chest, not a skin hard thing but something that seemed to ooze out some sort of resin or so that would create a string of hair that was like covered in glue. At first I thought it was something that she got outside and that tainted her fur and since the fur at the chest can take a while to be completely replaced, I did not bother too much. However as the months went by the hard fur patch became longer with the fur thus making it clear that it was not an external thing but the goo came from the skin.

At one time late 2017 I think I decided to shave her chest to see what was causing it. I did as best as I could with an electric pet shaver but since I noticed some larger skin bump I didn't want to go too deep and cut it. However next time we went to the vet I showed it to him. He said he didn’t know what it was but certainly not cancer. He gave her an antibiotic injection and provided me with a topical antibiotic spray. The black spot never went away but it stopped being gooey later when we had a checkup visit, so I hoped it was not something to worry about. This was in April or May of 2018. The doctor wanted to have a full blood panel which returned that she was in an early stage of kidney failure. Nothing to worry about right away he said, but he prescribed special died.

I bought the diet food and luckily I immediately found one she seemed to like. Both cats mostly only ate tuna or other fish food, there was a tuna recipe from Hills Diet which she accepted. At first I mixed it with her other food then gradually left that out. Of course now I had to deal with the feeding problem. Simba’s food contained ingredients against which Findus was allergic, Findus on the other hand had recently started to shun all soft food and only wanted hard food which made Simba vomit about 100% of the time now. So I had to basically pick up all food and relied on cats coming to me and crying for food, then put down the right food and wait until they are done and pick it up. I often just walked to the kitchen when I saw one of them go that direction and put down food to offer it so that nobody would go hungry. It was really a lot of work and I managed to get my wife halfway on board with how to feed them when I was asleep even though she wasn’t happy.

I noticed over time that her poop turds became smaller and darker which worried me. It was always easy to tell Findus’s from Simba’s poop because of the size and color. I always gave both kitties petro-malt oil paste whenever I thought of it but I neglected it somewhat toward the end. Then I noticed that she was not pooping at all. After 4 days I think I went to the vet. My regular vet was on vacation but there was a replacement doctor on duty. He recommended a full set of X-Ray with contrast dye to see if the dye would make it’s way through the intestines or if there was a blockage. That would take several hours so I left her there. In the evening when I came in, the doctor told me that there was no blockage but from the pictures it looked like all those turds were just sitting there and going nowhere. Also she was pretty full of gas. This was on June 12 2018.

He prescribed some Lactulose laxative and we agreed that I would bring her in next morning for an enema. That I did and a few hours later she had dropped a bunch of those turds. I was able to take her home. The doctor told me to keep giving laxative and prescribed a medicine called Cisapride which is supposed to help the intestines move the poop forward. He said that probably there is some chronic condition that makes the intestines lazy and the she would need constant medication. He also prescribed a steroid for a week that should stimulate her appetite since she was not eating that much anymore.

I was happy that the enema worked so happy that I forgot to check her. She went back on her couch, which is always covered in a blanket since she ruined the backrest and then back and forth and later cam to my desk as usual. That’s when I started to notice a bad smell. I checked out her rear end and really she was full of poop from the enema! The staff obviously didn’t clean her up, which may or may not be their responsibility. Well I reacted quickly, picked her up and put her in the shower. We have a shower door so she couldn’t get out. I got the blanket, wiped every surface that she went to. I had to tell my wife what I was doing of course, luckily she didn’t complain too much. She never really cared for Simba but gave me plenty of complaints when Simba did something that went on her nerves.

Once that was done, I got in the shower with her and gave her a quick bath which is easy with a shower door, but you have to be willing to get wet yourself. It was the first time ever and I was glad that she did not put up a fight. She screamed a bit but was all in all peaceful. Perhaps she noticed the bad smell herself and was glad to get clean, who knows. Since she continued to have soft stool for a day or two she had some more accidents and I had to repeat the shower twice more over the next few days.

At home I changed the Lactulose for Miralax since Lactulose has the side effect of giving more gas which Miralax did not and many veterinarians give that to cats so I felt good about it. I also gave her a lot of petro-malt to add oil to her intestines. Indeed she started pooping shortly after, small amounts first hard then getting very soft, from the medication no doubt which was a sign that the old poop should have been all out.

Still the amount of poop was lower that what I would expect. I got her to eat again, I went to the pet store and just bought different types of food to give her variety and stimulate her interest, at first mixing it up with water since she rather drank a soup that eat the food.

The re-check visit at the vet looked good and I was relieved, although the feeding situation had become pretty complicated with me running after cats and offering them their respective food that the other couldn’t eat. Simba became more reluctant and I was often wondering if she ate enough. I started to feed her when she was sitting under the dining room chairs. She was always shy and often would not come out to eat when somebody was around, even in the past so I put food down under the chair where she was hiding, waited until she was done and then picked it up since Findus could not eat this.

She was kinda slow now when she was sitting down, sitting down with the rear part of the body, keeping the weight on the front feet and then settling down only after a while, but I brushed it off as a quirk. This went on for a few days and weeks and I thought even though she is not real healthy anymore, maybe this is a status that could be held up for a few more years. I still was not worried about anything serious, although in hindsight that might sound foolish.

The night from Friday to Saturday the 7th of June 2018 was a normal work night for me. I worked at the computer with Simba around as always. In the past year or two Simba had made it a habit to walk across my desk from her blanket to the right side. My desk is L-Shaped and one arm of the L runs on my right side with secondary computers that I don’t use all the time, so it was a relatively quiet place for Simba to sit unless I needed the keyboards which was when I made her go back on the blanket which she always commented with an angry cry. Here is a pic of her on my right side. She would often sit like that for hours, watch me type (my keyboard would be to the left of the picture):

Sometimes she would just sit in front of me blocking the main keyboard:

I can’t remember anything specific from that night anymore, but I also don’t remember her acting strange in any way. This weekend was the start of a heatwave in Los Angeles that would last nearly a week according to forecast, so I chased my wife up early so that we could open all windows, run all fans and generally cool the inside of the house before it got hot, so my wife got up around 8 that Saturday, also to watch the Tennis tournament that was going on. I think it was Wimbledon. I was hanging out in the living room until I would be tired enough to go to bed and hopefully sleep through the day, since I always have sleep problems. Simba and Findus were in my office where the blinds had already been closed. They usually spend the day there sleeping. I had noticed that Simba was sitting on the ground next to the wall in a spot where she never sat before but by this time she had retured to her usual sleeping spot.

Around 9 or so I heard that screaming noise that she did with the vomiting. I heard that a few days before once without vomiting which worried me but I brushed it aside. I went to the office to see what she had. She was sitting in the middle of the office and stared in front of her which I thought was strange since she never sat in a spot like that. I pushed her a little back to make her walk, see how she was doing and she was walking into the living room. I wasn’t sure if she was a bit wobbly. I went back to the couch and observed her from there. She went and sat down right by my wife’s feet which she had never done before. She had no relation with my wife whatsoever. Then after a minute or so she went back to the office. I got up and followed her, turned on the light. She went to the far side of the office under the computer desks where she normally doesn’t go, then behind the trashcan.

I became more worried. I got her out from there and then directed her toward the ottoman which is the stepping stone to the penthouse on top of the little cat house under the desk. Since Findus was sleeping on top of the desk, this would be the normal place for her to go according to their customs. She managed to jump up then crawled under the desk on top of the catbox. Then I saw how she simply peed while going there, just let go of it. I knew then that this was serious and I had to get her to the vet. I went to the garage to get the carrier, put it down in the living room while telling my wife. I put on some cloths and then grabbed my little Bimba. She just hung in my arms completely limp. Normally she would fight to get off my arms let alone into the carrier but this time she did or said nothing. My wife noticed that her tongue was hanging out, I didn’t see it myself.

I put the carrier in the back of our car and then rushed to the regular vet. Luckily at this time on a Saturday morning the streets were empty, but still I was speeding to the vet, running all the stop signs on the street that leads to his office. There I ran inside with the carrier, told the girl behind the desk what happened. She told me “You may have to take her to the Emergency Hospital” while she telephoned the doctor. The doctor came a few seconds later and checked out Bimba, got her out of the carrier, she looked bad and limp, checked her gums and said that “She is going blue” and “There’s a good chance she won’t survive” then explained the way to the Emergency Hospital which, luckily was merely half a mile down the road and easy to get to. He said they might be able to put her in an oxygen tent and do other stuff which he could not do.

I rushed there afraid that I might miss it in my current state of anxiety, but it was easy to find. There was a parking spot and I pulled right up, ran inside and explained the whole thing again. The staff was very friendly and concerned, a nurse came out immediately and took the carrier with Bimba to the back. I filled out a few forms when they called me into a room to talk to the Doctor. The Doc said that there is not much hope but she seemed stable at the moment. They said they can keep her there for the day, monitor her heartbeat and blood pressure, make a blood panel, do X-Rays and some other stuff. She said in her experience Bimba had something with the brain, because of the way her facial features were out of control. She said, either a brain tumor or a stroke. Maybe, she said that black spot at the chest (which was still bare) had spread into the brain, giving me the impression it was some form of tumor, but I don’t think they could tell from just looking at it, it was probably just a guess. But it seemed clear that it was something with the brain, but she said only an MRI could tell and they did not have the equipment. It would cost between 1300 and 1400 $ to keep her there for the day and do all the tests and monitoring. I agreed and paid 1100$ down as they asked for.

They send me then to the front desk to fill out more papers and said once I’m done the nurse would take me back so I could say goodbye to little Bimba for the day. After the forms were done, I sat down and waited for them to call me. There came the nurse out and called me back and said “Simba has taken a turn” and that she was probably dying. When I came back, poor little Bimba was lying on the table with a form of liquid heating pillow under her head, the eyes open, but I don’t know if she was still conscious. Both her front paws were in bandages, one for an IV entry the other with the EKG and blood pressure sensors. She was unresponsive. The doctor was there and said there was nothing more she could do and that Bimba was going to die.

I did not want to prolong it because I did not know if she was feeling anything, so I asked her to give Bimba an injection to put her to sleep. They agreed. The nurse took Bimba and led me through the hospital to a room. All treatment rooms had little signs with a dog or cat shape with the name of the patient written on it with a marker. That room had a sign with heart and two wings, so I knew it was either used for death or somebody had it just put there. Anyway a couple was in there with their dog, I had noticed them in the waiting area. The nurse rushed them out. There I sat down and she gave me little Bimba’s body to hold. She was wrapped in a blanket that left her head and the chest and front side accessible. She did not fight or move, her eyes were open but I do not think she saw anything, probably did not realize I was there either. Then the doc came in with two injections. I lifted her up and kissed a goodbye on her head. The doc put the one syringe in the entry and emptied it. She made some small spasms and the Nurse said, “Don’t worry it’s probably just the last gasp” then the doc put the second syringe in and within a second it was over. The doc checked her heart, then the nurse did her best to close her eyes, which didnt really stay close like you see in the movies.

The doc said her condolences and then the nurse asked me if I wanted to hold her for a while. I declined. I always thought it must be horrible to hang on to the dead body and then still having to make the decision at some point to end it and let go. I never could that. When my mom died four years ago the hospital told me they would prep her body and have her in a special room to say goodbye. I never went. To me, once death has come the body is no longer the person (or cat) that you loved because it’s the personality that you love and that is gone at that moment. So I couldn’t hold her any longer. The nurse took her and that was the last I ever saw of my little baby.

Of the rest of the day I have no good memories. They gave me some time to grief, then the nurse came back to discuss the final arrangements. I went back home, stopped by Ralph’s to get myself a bottle of Whiskey, then went home, told my wife what happened.

I can’t blame my wife for not having any emotions (or at the very least doing a good job at hiding them) but she never liked Bimba although she did her best to tolerate her. I got drunk that day and said a lot to my wife which I don’t fully remember, but obviously nothing bad.

I have been writing on this text since the 7th. Today is the 17th. Once the text is done and I have her ashes back, I will bury her and put a copy of this text into the coffin box.

Yes, and that is how the story of little Bimba ends.

 

[Somebody]

Last Thoughts

As I said above, when I look at Bimba’s old picture I see a somewhat chubby, healthy kitty. When I think of her two weeks ago, I notice that she was thin and moved somewhat sluggish plus the other problems. I have been thinking back and forth. Could it have been prevented? What if I had a more thorough examination done years ago? But why? There was nothing to notice. Change creeped up slowly and I did not notice it. And if I had, what could have been done? A stroke can not be predicted. And if there was a tumor, would I have been willing to spend 10 or 20K on a surgery that would probably have been defined as “not sure”, “could leave her paralyzed or dead” and put her through all the suffering that open brain surgery brings? I don’t think I would do that.

What if it was a heart attack instead? The doc guessed brain did her in but what if the Cisapride was at fault? I read up that it had it’s permission withdrawn for human applications because of a risk of sudden death, but that it was still in use for cats for colon condition. Could that have done her in? But many cat owners talk about it and nowhere have I read anything about sudden death linked to it. Many cats use it for years and years. I just don’t know, but then her constipation did look pretty severe and was something that had shown early signs with the small and hard poop for a while. Would I rather have her suffer from constant digestive problems with repeating constipation? And what if that slowing of the intestine movement was caused by nerve damage that lead to a brain stroke? Or a Tumor gradually increasing pressure on nerves? Maybe that’s why she seemed slower and sat down so weirdly?

I don’t know. There are so many “if’s” and if not even the doctors can tell you 100% what it is and how to best treat it and what to do and what was the cause of death, how should I? Yet the feeling remains, could I have done something and just missed it? I hope not.

I like to think that I did the best I could for my little Bimba. She was a feral kitty, once that most people would not tolerate and certainly would not spend time to tame and get inside, so I like to think that I did right by her and gave her a better life than she would have had without me. And I also believe that she loved me for it, as close as cat’s can get to love or whatever humans define as “love” which, when you ask 10 different poets or philosophers, you probably get 10 different answers. She would not leave my side and follow me around the house. Simba was all black and they say that black cats have a hard time getting adopted. I think it is because one can not easily spot facial features in a black face. The head is just a black shape without proper lighting and thus people don’t get a “connection” to the cat that you get from seeing facial features. But I learned that you don’t need to see the face to know that a cat loves you. I would encourage everybody who considers getting a cat to adopt a black one. They need adopting more than others.

I have thought long and hard these past two and a half weeks why it is that her death affects me so much and I think I finally found the answer. I think it’s because we both had only each other. See, I am married but my wife and I don’t really see eye to eye. We are on different sides of the political spectrum and since the election of our new president this had turned into vitriolic dissent in many relations and friendships. There are other things as well but the bottom line is that we don’t have a very warm relation. Findus, my other cat barely tolerated Simba. Maybe she resented that she was being replaced by her as number 1. It had many reasons, one was her long illness during which I was happy for every hour that she slept and did not suffer, so during that year I naturally focused on Simba. Although Simba wanted to be Findus’ friend while she was still living outside, it didn’t turn out that way later. She licked Findus head when she passed her by on the desk which showed me that she till wanted to be friends but Findus ignored her. So it was really a relation where She was the only one in the house who showed me affection and I was the only one who showed her affection. That and her baby like personality. When she died it was like I was left all by myself although I still have another house cat plus a wife. Still, without Bimba I feel more alone than ever. A friend told me: “It will hurt a little less every day and one day you will be able to remember her and say: I once had a cool cat...”

She really was a cool cat.

I have dug up a grave and bought some flowers to put on it when I have her ashes back. It’s right in the spot she loved the most while she was living outdoors. I hope it will be a beautiful place and my friends paid for a little grave stone with her name which I will put on it. I will put a copy of this text into the box with her urn. Who knows, maybe somebody finds this in a 100 years and then he will know all about little Bimba. Wouldn’t that be something?

For now there is nothing more to say. It took me a good 10 days or more to write this, because I was afraid of finishing this text, because in doing so it is like I close another door and yet another chapter on my little Bimba that takes me farther away from my little darling, but there is nothing more to tell.

I miss my little buddy!

 

[Somebody]

Addendum: Burial and Grave

I will add some text and picture here related to the grave. Obviously, the version of the text I will give Simba in her coffin will not contain the last pictures and will be cut off somewhere in the middle.

I just picked up her ashes from the vet, they called me yesterday. I drove the same route I went two weeks ago on that Saturday passing my regular vet although it was a slight detour, but I wanted to drive the same way. Sentimental. I went in the early morning of July-19-2018 around 5:30 since the vet is open 24h and I thought that way I would not have to face a crown in the waiting room and indeed it was all empty except the receptionist who was very nice and compassionate. Although I tried to keep a straight face I could not help but cry a bit. I apologized and told her I loved Bimba very much and she said no need to apologize. Then I put Simba on the passenger seat and we drove home for the last time.

I put her urn on all her favorite places and take some pictures for the last time. They really made it very nice with a little paw print in clay and a pack of Forget-me-Not seeds. I will germinate them in a pot in the garage and then put them on her grave later.

Last week I changed my plans. Once I had the ashes I just could not bring myself to putting the box into the ground. I was thinking what if we move in the near future if my business takes off again which it hopefully will. Should I leave the ashes there for the next house owner to dig it up if he changes the garden or builds a new house? What when Findus time comes, will I dig down again and put her there? So I thought about creating some memorial site like the walls that cemeteries have where urns are placed in niches.

I ordered a nice marble urn for her and then turned that spot into a small garden, placed some plants there and I found a nice construction to function as a wall niche. First I thought I build one from garden stones but that would be very difficult. Instead I found an ingenious way of converting a planter pot by spray painting it with textured paint that makes it look and feel like stone. I will put Simba’s urn inside and with the catnip plants, once they are tall enough in the seedling box in the garage so that I can transfer them outside, maybe our garden cat will come and visit the grave. That keeps me all options open for the future.

And here I close my account since there is nothing more to write