Dear Supporters of Simon,

It isn’t always easy being a Tabby’s Place correspondent for a special needs kitty. Some days—everything goes fine. Other days—you have to be on top of your game, or you end up striking out!

The other day I arrived at Tabby’s Place, eager to see Simon. Of course, I had my mask on, and I was due in the laundry room to help clean the dishes and litter pans and work on the ever piled-up laundry that comes from the suites. But I’d arrived extra early to spend time with Simon. I walked into the room that I call the kitchenette (also known as the Employee/Volunteer Lounge). There’s a table with some chairs, a sink, a sofa and a few other items, but not much else. Simon lives here with Shifty and a few other cats. And sure enough, everything was there as it always is. Everyone was there as they always are. Everyone, that is, except Simon.

How odd, I thought.

I glanced around several times, looking, looking, looking. Near the food bowl. Near the water bowl. Near Shifty. I even looked under the sofa. No Simon. Shifty and a few other kitties were resting comfortably on the sofa, but no Simon.

Had something happened to him? I’m not the nervous type and usually am quite optimistic about things. But now after I’d checked the room out several times, I began to worry. Had Simon planned the great escape?

A fellow volunteer came in, and I asked the obvious question, “Do you know where Simon is?”

“Nope,” he said. But then, hearing the panic in my voice, he started looking around.  “He should be here. In fact, I saw him about an hour ago. So he’s got to be here.”

The room is not that big. We both looked at each other. I started imagining a full court search of the entire premises—every suite, all the grounds outside. Calling the police. Calling the F.B.I.

“Look here.”  Under the sofa, in a box, Simon was nestled comfortably. I’d looked under the sofa all right, but I’d hardly noticed the box pushed against the wall. And even if I’d seen it, I’d never imagine for a moment that a cat was inside. But there he was.

And that got me thinking about Simon. He must certainly appreciate all the attention he gets from the people who work at Tabby’s Place. And I’m sure all the volunteers don’t hesitate to pet Simon when they see him. But Simon also must have times when he prefers to be alone. He needs his box time! And I thought that explained it.

Once I found him, of course, Simon became the main attraction.

And then Simon started peeking out. What am I missing? What’s all the commotion?

But there was more to the story. The staff at Tabby’s Place also noticed Simon’s change in behavior. His usual “greet everyone at the door” and “hunt around for food” behavior had changed, which immediately alerted them. It seemed that Simon was running a fever. His bloodwork revealed a low potassium level, and the staff suspected a urinary tract infection. He was given an antibiotic and a potassium supplement. (Throughout the treatment, of course, Simon continued to chow down so the staff wasn’t too concerned.)

Now, Simon is back to normal, enjoying our lovely fall weather—when it’s not raining, of course.  As I said, it’s never a dull moment when you’re a trusted correspondent! As always, Simon and I thank you for your continued generosity. Please stay safe!

And for some added enjoyment, Ruth, one of our volunteers, made this wonderful video of our kitties at Tabby’s Place strolling around the premises. Simon just happens to be first on the video (don’t get put off by the blue-eyed beauty featured on the cover of the video)!!!!

Your correspondent,
Kate