Even when your guardians are about to move and your guard post is surrounded by odds and ends, a good watchcat perseveres and keeps guarding his assigned sector:
Sadly, an era of my family's cats ended on this day 20 years ago. June 13, 2001 was Watchcat Simon's last day on Earth. We'd lost his brother, Watchcat Rusty, six months earlier and were unprepared for Simon's health to deteriorate so quickly.
Often, it's not easy being second. Rusty, who joined the family in August 1983, was generally outgoing, talkative, and playful, while Simon, who joined us in June 1987, was typically quiet, shy, and serious. I've always thought of Simon as the most introverted of all the cats we've had and the one whom life intimidated most. I often thought, not unkindly, that the "Schoolhouse Rock" song, "The Tale Of Mr. Morton," could have applied, with altered lyrics, to him. (i.e. "Mr. Simon is the subject of the sentence, and when the predicate's said, he runs.")
As a fellow introvert, however, I got along well with him. I felt honored to be one of the very few people he trusted. He enjoyed it when I carried him around the house, much like my longtime cat, Sylvia. In his early years, he alerted us eagerly with a quick "Meow, meow" before jumping in our laps.
Despite his mostly reserved ways, Watchcat Simon summoned the fortitude to assume guard duty. Once he got his bearings, he kept watch over three houses where we lived over the years and particularly over one former neighbor, whose lawn mowing fascinated him.
Simon's cat brother, Rusty, and he were a study in contrasts, but they coexisted and carried out their watchcat duties well.
