RIP Simon, our, ahem, “beloved” Voiceover Kitty

And welcome to your beautiful tenth life...



I don’t like cats…


I don’t.  I really don’t.  You really have to work hard for their affection, and they don’t ever seem to understand that I’m kind of a big deal.  In fact the very best depictions of how cats perceive humans are depictions where cats are flipping off humans.  Our cat was that way.  I say “was”, because unless your IQ is the same as that of a lump of hamburger, then you’d infer from this blog’s title that he recently crossed the rainbow bridge, and we just lost him. On October 18th, our cat Simon went to live with Jesus, who I’m sure gave him speedily to someone other than Jesus.

It’s a sad part of life: death - unless it’s the passage of a goldfish, to which I usually attribute the same emotion as when I hear the word “centrigue”; which is unlike the emotion I feel when I hear the words “barium enema.”  Death hits us all, and it’s inescapable.  It certainly was for Simon the cat.  Either that or he was awfully good at mime, because he was so convincing at being dead that we buried him.  That precious black lump of fur is no more, and the purring is gone.  He was my wife’s cat since roughly 2005, and it was actually a sad parting.

That is, of course, if you like cats, which I, of course, do not. You see, I’m a dog person, and I have my Voiceover Dog Macy, whom I love dearly, and does not flip me off (to my knowledge).

Oh I was sad, to be sure.  Death is downright unnerving, scary, and you’re just never really ready for it.  As I picked up that lifeless lump of fur, I began to choke up.  I may not have liked him much, because I am not a card-carrying member of the I Love Cats Club…but I found that I actually did love him, and I was truthfully moved to tears that he had died.

Now, unless I am utterly mistaken and branded a cat-lover, let me assure you that I want every cat to be launched post-haste into space, and deposited onto a planet that I do not live on.  Only then would I feel at peace.  I’m not about to warm your heart with fuzzy tales of a lump of fur purring on my lap while I recorded a tourism voiceover…or sweet meow’s that had us all laughing sitcom-style while I desperately tried to record something.  And to pretend that I liked Simon even a little bit would be a lie that I’m sure would get me damned due to Absolute Untruthfulness.


But I think I loved this one…


In high school, I was part of All-Northwest Choir, and we literally sang a song with the lyrics, “Cats…are waiting…to take over the world…”  An unnerving and truly frightening notion.  I am not a cat-hater per se, I just don’t believe that felines in principle make good Secretaries General.  Hairballs would become public policy.  The UN would be littered (get it?) with oppression complaints by mice the world over.

We all have our four-legged humans that we really love and gravitate towards. It’s core to every human being to love, unless we’re talking about Nancy Grace.  I’m much more a dog-person, quite simply.  I have always had a fondness for dogs.  Our dog Macy is the sweetest dog on Planet Earth, and we’re fairly certain that she was made from rainbows and cotton candy, although that is not what she poops.  But imparting love to an animal is second-nature; innate; instinctual.  When we impart our love to a cat, who is incapable of returning love, is all-take and no-give, sheds on our clothes, sleeps in our sinks and poops in our shoes, we dream contentedly of incinerating them with eye lasers, and watching their skin melt with approval.

I don’t think that was my point.

My point was that I actually, eventually, honestly fell in love with this particular cat, despite some major shortcomings and the fact that he did not ever bark.  Or fetch.  Or come when I called him.  Or anything else – ever – that I ordered him to do.  (Pretty sure I was flipped off a lot behind my back.)  I also do not think it was because he knew no English.  No, I’m confident that it was because he was a minion of the Antichrist.

I jest.

Simon was just his own person.  His own self.  And I mean it in the most affectionate sense when I say I miss the scruffy little disobedient punk.  Holding his lifeless body in my arms was not the experience I had expected that morning.  I had been walking out to the hot tub and expected warmth and comfort.  Instead, I held cold sadness.

As the song goes, "You don't know what you got...until it's gone...and I found out...a little too late."


However I am not obligated to love any other cat...


We had his burial, and it was relatively undistracted except for by my infant, who does not even know what a cat is, much less a dead cat, much less the words cat, or dead, or anything beyond “Igonnagitchoo.”  Simon now occupies 2.2 cubic feet out in our pasture, and I know this because I simply took his length by his height by his width plus a lot of guesswork, sheer conjecture and educated supposition entirely on my own.  Also because I googled how to compute cubic feet.




Here's Simon with our former dog, Primrose, who is also dead.  I assure you we are not pet-killers.



That little ball of fur that was utterly precious to us.  Correction.  Let me start that over again because it was incorrect.  That little ball of fur that was utterly precious to my wife is now laid to rest, and we have lots of memories that we can reflect upon.  My wife will reflect upon stroking his fur, and how when she went to nurse our infant, she placed a pillow on her lap (for our infant), and Simon instantly jumped up onto it.  For the record I think I should point out that she did not nurse our cat.  My wife will also reflect upon how she loved him, how he snuggled up against her and would sometimes be found in the morning on her chest, staring at her, purring: a notion which terrifies me to my very core.  I do not wish to wake up to that, and am perpetually glad that I will not.

For my part, I will reflect upon kitty litter everywhere, cat hair and dander rubbed into the corners of our walls, and the demolition of one of my favorite shirts by Simon’s velociraptor-like claws.  Oh I didn’t tell you the story?  Here, let me explain.

I had never had a real cat.  Plush, won-at-the-fair types, yes, but not one I could ever call my own.  You see, I attempted to bond with Simon early on in our marriage (to my wife, not Simon) by taking him for a car ride to the post office.  It never occurred to me that according to Universal Cat Laws, you should NOT EVER DO THIS EVER.  For some reason I was under the impression that Simon was a dog.  My wife cleared it up for me later, reassuring me that he was in fact a cat and not a dog.  A reassurance that I really had no need of, because upon my first insertion attempt of Simon into my car, he proceeded to scramble up my front, over my shoulders and down my back, digging what I remember to be seventy-five 8-foot-long blood-drenched talons into my flesh in a mad attempt to escape.  In the process, he shredded one of my favorite shirts, a long-sleeve FDNY shirt I had owned since 9/11, the trauma of which seems now to pale in comparison when stacked up against actually owning a cat.

Farewell Simon.  I won’t begin to pretend that I liked you.  Not for all the Bottle Caps candy in the world.  But I did love you.  Your nine lives are over here, but we wish you well across the Rainbow Bridge into your tenth life.

Even though you never performed a single voiceover, you were our Voiceover Kitty, and I will miss you.

Kind of.

RIP Simon 2003-2020.  Enjoy the rainbow bridge and please clean up your hair after you've crossed over.





NOTE: This blog is purely for commentary / educational purposes.  I make no money from these blogs; though I do not refuse large cash gifts if it means I can pretend I'm a church.


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22 thoughts on “RIP Simon, our, ahem, “beloved” Voiceover Kitty”

  1. I’m really sorry to hear of your loss and the difficult discovery that you actually cared about Simon. I happen to be someone who loves both dogs and cats (and many other animals, none of whom would I want to keep in my house), so my sympathy goes out to you and your family.
    You never know – Simon may *have* been a Voiceover kitty! Have you checked your browsing history? Have you checked Voicebunny? I would think that if any cat had the potential for Voiceover, it would be yours. And if any cat had the drive to pursue a VO career, it would most likely be drawn to Voicebunny, even after the initial disappointment in discovering that no, there are not any *actual* bunnies.

    1. Or maybe it’s not so much that they’re questioning our existence, but that they truly are waiting…to take…over…the world…….. Hey Craig! What’s that big pointy-eared thing behind you??? LOOK OUT CRAIGI!!!!

  2. What a pretty cat, though. They somehow do tend to get to your heart subconsciously…

    This reminded me of when our beloved Corgi, Peanut, died while I was out of town. My husband was in the backyard digging a shallow grave in the moonlight, when he heard cars and voices in the front. After putting his shovel down and peeking around the house, he saw 2 police cars and policemen in the neighbor’s driveway. His imagination running wild, he was certain the neighbors (having not seen me in the past few days, and now seeing John digging up the yard under veil of night), had called the police to report my nefarious demise. (This was not at all the case, as the neighbor’s teenaged son’s teenaged shenanigans had been the actual reason for the police visit.)

  3. We, rather my wife, brought a cat into our relationship as well. She brought two kids, and a cat. Is it mean to say the cat was the best of the bunch? Save for my wife, of course! That cat had help raise her two children, and was helping with one of my own. She had been a mama herself so she understood the needs of stinky, whining kids. ( I’m not mean. Kids actually stink and whine! it’s a fact!) She was attentive to food, making sure she and the kids got some. She actually played fetch! Honestly! And she was opinionated! The cat, not my wife! (although she is too!) She was loved by all, except my cat who she terrorized and put in her place. When we lost her, it was devastating. To everyone. We miss her still, 10 years later. She is spoken about with fondness and love. And that snicker you get when you think about the devilish things she did. I hope you get that snicker. It’s priceless!

    1. No, it’s not mean. But it would be wildly untrue, as they are of course evil incarnate. But they’re so fluffy!!! So I get it. I get a warm fuzzy when I think of him. But then I realize I just needed to go to the bathroom is all that was.

  4. Never had a cat, so can’t really relate, but I did have a pitbull, so I can honestly say the myths around them are just that, myths. They are the best imo!
    After he passed away, I wanted to do something sweet to honor his memory and I heard Aloha ‘Oe on the ukulele – crying hysterically, you’d think there was a crime afoot, lol. I reached out for a track, but didn’t get a reaction, so I built one from an arrangement and recorded it with beautiful footage of Hawaii – the original loss in the song. I also used it as a singing demo:
    I really miss him a lot.
    Sorry about Simon, for whatever it’s worth. 😉

    1. Pitbull. Cat. Hmm. Is there really a difference? But I will check out the song, because maybe there’s a catharsis in the making there…and I’ll weep uncontrollably, and then Barb’s neighbor will call the police again.

      1. Lol, I think the difference is in the obedience part. Unfortunately shirts will still be ripped – still have one I just don’t get to mending.

        I’m sure you’ll love it! Just leave a signed declaration of your intent so when you get arrested again, you can prove your guilt, hehe.

  5. So sorry to hear about the loss of the cat that you both loved and despised. My current cat is the only one I’ve felt that way about. Her name is Grace, as she was my son’s saving grace after unexpectedly losing his dad a few years ago. But I should’ve named her PITA!

    And the pic of your wife and Simon is so sweet!

    1. Well let’s be clear about one thing. SHE loved him. I KINDA loved him. We lived in our home, with our dog, and her cat. But yes, I kinda miss the little scruffball. Sniff sniff. There, I’m done.

  6. Awww, he was an old kitty, too! Well done, Simon, living 17 years and surviving long enough to torture Josh as much as possible. Good kitty. 😂

    My cat Molly is pretty certain that the blanket I have on my studio desk (as sound absorption) is especially for her to sleep on when it’s cold everywhere else.

    And I kinda don’t mind; she just loves her mama.

    Until she starts bloody well washing herself while I’m working! Ugh, take your stinky mouth and licky noises elsewhere, devil creature!

    1. Haha and torture he did! Thank you for the kind wishes. He was a nice kit to my wife, but he’s in hell for sure. Sounds like Molly might make a good hellmate, er, cellmate for Simon when her bell gets rung!

  7. This is such a special piece with so much love and humor. Thanks so much for sharing all of it, and sending my heartfelt condolences to you and your wife💗.
    Sharon D.

    1. Thank you Sharon, I appreciate it! I’ve moved on already (didn’t take long) but I’ll for sure extend the sentiment to my wife, who is still beloved, despite the fact that she brought a cat into our marriage.

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