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Simon says we're going to get a new home. I thought we had one, but then one day we didn't. Actually, that happened several times. Simon says it's not our fault.

Simon says this time we won't have to leave again. He knows this stuff because he's older than me. I've been with him since I was really young, almost a kitten, after I lost my claws, and the nice lady at the vet, Amber, gave me a new home, a better one than I had before. I keep rubbing my paws on the scratching post, but my claws don't ever come back. So usually I stand behind Simon because he's big. I'm big too, but he has claws.

I wish we were still with Amber, but Simon says people die, just like animals, sometimes young. I'm young still. The new vet says I'm younger than the 8 years my papers say.

Simon says there's other nice people in the world who will give us a good home, with toys and food and water and did I mention toys? Oh, and something to climb on. And they'll brush us every day and pet us, just like Amber did. I hope he's right. He's a Siamese, and they're supposed to be smart.

I'm smart too. I'm a big red oyster tabby. But my eyes are blue, at least in some lights. Simon says that doesn't matter. I hope he's right about that too.

UPDATE FROM THE DUKE: My friend Simon died too, and I'm so sad without him. Why does everybody have to die? The foster lady says I can stay with her forever, and that's nice...but it isn't, not really. There's so many cats here, jumpy little kittens and big old fellows who don't like me. So don't tell her, because I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I'd really like another home, maybe just me and you. Please?

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