Sammy Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling in at night. I mis you - Edna St. Vincent Millay
Sammy was a marmalade tabby, who we adopted from our local animal shelter. She was a great cat. She was approximately one year old when we got her. They told us her name was Ginger, but I don't think she liked it very much. She never came when we called her by that name. After about two weeks of calling her Ginger and her not acknowledging it, we decided to change her name. This created a rather large problem - we couldn't decide on what she should be called. After another week of deliberation, we finally threw our hands up in the air and just decided on Samantha (Sammy for short).The first week or so with Sammy was pretty rough. She yowled all night long. But we soon found out that an easy solution was a spray bottle filled with water. Every night, I'd take my trusty spray bottle with me and leave it at the side of the bed. When she started to yowl, I'd lie there and listen, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. I could always tell when I'd "hit my mark" because Sammy would let out this awful yowl, as if to say "what was that for?" But it did the trick - she spent the next hour or so licking herself dry, and I managed to get in a quick "cat nap" (pardon the pun) till the next episode.Sammy was a perfect lady. She never ate my plants or knocked things over. (okay, everybody makes a mistake once in awhile). <g> But she never did it intentionally. She always made sure she had enough room to get up before she attempted "the big jump". And as long as I left her a space between my plants, they managed to remain where they belonged. She was a very finicky eater and refused to follow the old saying that "even a finicky cat will eat their food if they get hungry enough." Sammy was the exception to that rule. She made it quite clear that she didn't care how long the food sat there - if she didn't want to eat it, she wouldn't. She refused to drink water from a bowl, choosing instead to drink from a dripping tap. It took us a long time to get used to the bathtub tap dripping all night.Her favorite "hideouts" were on top of the fridge, in the linen closet or in the bedroom closet, although she was always finding new places to hide. She was forever getting locked in the linen closet and once spent a whole day in there while we were at work. When we came home and she didn't meet us at the door, we called her name and she meowed at us from the closet. When we opened it, she stood up, stretched nonchalantly, yawned, jumped down and ran right out to the kitchen for food. One night we awoke to an awful noise coming from the kitchen. I ran out to see what was going on, and there was Sammy in one of the top cupboards (the one where I kept my good cups and saucers). She was very happily walking around inside the cupboard and looked at me as if to say, "hi mom! Look what I found - another hiding spot!" Even though a few of the cups had tumbled onto the counter and broken, I couldn't bring myself to discipline her as I knew she hadn't done it intentionally. After all, it wasn't her fault the kitchen cupboard doors didn't close properly. Another of her favorite hiding spots was on top of the kitchen cupboards.She loved walking the hall in our apartment building and one morning at 4 a.m., there was a knock at our door. Someone had come home and found Sammy sitting patiently by our door waiting for someone to let her back in. This, of course, wasn't the only time something like that happened. She loved to visit her neighbours next door. If she happened to be in the hall and their door opened, she'd scoot right in and run to the food dishes in the kitchen. When she finished eating, she'd stroll into the living room and say hi to the neighbours - Kat and Kitten (no kidding!). Then, as if she hadn't had enough to eat already, she'd stroll right back out, down the hall into our apartment and head straight for her food dishes.The years with Sammy were very special to us. We have never had, or will have, a cat like her. She saw us through quite a few rough times and was always there to comfort us. She knew when we were feeling sad or depressed, and would do her best to try and make us smile. And it usually worked. She is sadly missed. If you would like to read her tribute, please click here.
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