Confessions of a Curvy Girl: CIRCLE OF LIFE

"It's the Circle of Life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the Circle

The Circle of Life"

My heart aches heavily as the words move from my brain down into my fingertips and onto the screen. How does one console their child when they are hurting from that deepest reservoir of emotion within their innermost core? No number of hugs is able to absorb the pain, despite my attempts to inhale and withdraw the agony from my eldest child. No words formed and delivered from my mouth comfort the endless stream of tears, nor give her the hope she so desperately needs. I am at a loss. My inability to do the right thing brings me added grief over the fact that ~~our~~ her beloved, but rapidly declining, eighteen year old cat has not come home since he was lying in the warmth of the sun on the deck early yesterday.

We adopted Simba along with Penny in April 2003. We paid a visit to the kitty sanctuary, The Pat Brody Shelter, with the mission of getting one short-haired cat as a family pet. As we made our way through the visiting room with dozens of cats, I turned to discover my oldest child, then five years old, literally making out with a long-haired calico cat named Penny. Their faces rubbed against each other, their bodies smushed into each other and it was love at first sight. As my husband and I watched this love affair blossom, I quietly muttered that from my previous online research of the shelter, I believed that Penny was one of a pair of cats that had to be adopted together. Yikes.

I asked to see the other cat that belonged with Penny. I was escorted to the kitty infirmary because I was informed that Simba had a cold. Upon approaching the large cage, I was instantly greeted with sniffly love and affection from a beautiful butterscotch colored lion. In between sneezes, Simba melted my heart and yes, it was love at first sight but this time for me.

We went home with not one short-haired, young cat – but instead two long-haired beauties: Penny was twelve and Simba was eight. Riley, my daughter, was newly five and Jake, my son, was two. Our family was then complete.

The cats were instantly a hit with the family, acclimating instantly and claiming our home as their own. Both Penny and Simba were very social and integrated themselves into our myriad of activities at home. Sadly, in September 2006, Penny died from breast cancer. We found a lump near one of her nipples when I was giving her a shave down in the hot month of August. A visit to the vet revealed a tumor, which had already spread to her lungs, her bones and was starting on her brain. At fifteen years of age, coupled with the amount of metastasis, we chose to let nature take its course.

One day, Penny did not return home. We had to explain to our than eight year old and then five year old, that sometimes, when cats know they are dying, they disappear to die privately. The message was not well received and Riley spent three days crying when her beloved cat did not come home. We assumed the worst and tried to help our daughter with the devastating life lesson, the circle of life.

The pain grew as Riley was relentless in checking Penny’s bush – a beautiful white hydrangea bush that Penny spent a great many hours lounging underneath. Imagine the excruciating call I received at work one afternoon from a hysterical child who found her beloved cat, dead, underneath her favorite bush. Penny had returned home to die and knew where we would find her.

Now seven years later, at the age of fifteen, the agony has returned as we ponder Simba’s whereabouts. Has he gone off to pass away? Did he just spend the night under our neighbor’s porch since we were at a soccer game late and unable to let him in?

Simba’s health has been declining rapidly: he’s lost a great deal of weight, his vision is very poor, his hearing is not all there, his appetite has been waning, his arthritic body has been increasingly difficult for him to move around. My husband and I have been discussing in recent days when is the right time to make the decision – we do not want our beloved cat to suffer; but when IS that “right” time.

Our memories surge: the cat that was more dog-like in nature; the cat that followed his beloved Riley ON TO the school bus (yes, he climbed up the steps behind her and had to be taken off by her); the cat that ran up the street alongside of Riley on her bike, as her dad let go for the first time without training wheels; the cat that would sit bum to bum to bum as Riley and her dad sat on the curb watching traffic go by; the cat that would come running like a dog when called and as Riley puts it, “the cat that has been with me through EVERYTHING.”

Simba was the source of comfort for Riley as she watched her mother battle breast cancer. Every time the uncontrolled chemo-induced vomiting would surface, Riley found comfort by stroking her buddy’s fur. When Riley was bullied in elementary school, that big fluffy guy knew when to sit in her lap and purr her to a happy place. When Riley’s grandparents were ill and times were tough in our household (we all lived together), Riley found comfort in sleep with that big lion cuddling her backside - he literally had her back. When Riley’s grandparents subsequently passed away, again, the long-haired, orange guy was there for her when she needed him the most.

While not to leave out my other two children, my husband nor myself, as we are all heavily grieving for the fear of what may be in Simba’s absence; the relationship between a girl and her cat is just profound. She loved him through every vein in her body and his love for her was reciprocal. Simba certainly had a fondness for my husband, but it was his girl that stole his heart.

My tears flow as I struggle with helping my family to cope with this dilemma. Part of me hopes that Simba has gone on to pass privately – I do not want my family to see his lifeless body and I despair having to make the choice for euthanasia. However, the other part of me hopes he comes home to die – so we have that closure, so we may say our goodbyes to our beloved family member properly.

Lives are born and love is grown. Lives pass on, but the love becomes embedded into the very being of who we are. The pain never goes away, but it does ease with time.

Please Simba, come home to your family.