Sammy's mom walked in my front door one day almost 21 years ago, curled up on my coffee table and went to sleep. She was a beautiful Siamese and since I had grown up with a Siamese before, I thought it would be okay to keep her. Little did I know what I was in store for. About 4 weeks later, there appeared four little tiger-striped kittens. As the days passed, two grabbed my heart more than the others and I decided to keep those two and give away the others. Momma-cat (as she became known) wanted to be a party animal (probably how she got into the situation she had been in) and not an indoor cat -- so she was given to my niece's grandmother. That left me with Sammy and her brother, Seymour. When they were about 4 years old, my husband and I divorced (he told me he wouldn't fight me for custody) and the 3 of us moved into our own place. They were my salvation and a constant source of amusement. Seymour would fetch things and wait for me to throw them, just like a dog. Sammy -- well she was different.



I first knew that she was different when I realized the things she loved to play with (and eat). If given the chance, Sammy would steal coins from the table and hide them. Imagine my surprise when I found her stash! As for eating, her favorite thing to eat was the edges off of computer paper. She would literally stand on her hind legs and beg for me to tear pieces off and feed them to her. She continued this habit well into her senior years and only stopped when she lost her teeth to old age.



I remarried 13 years ago when the cats were almost 8. My husband said that he knew I really was going to marry him and move half-way across the country when I sent my cats on ahead to live here in Wyoming.



Seymour passed away 2-1/2 years ago at the ripe old age of 18 and I thought that Sammy would not be far behind. She was bound and determined to prove me wrong. About 1-1/2 years ago, Sammy was diagnosed with Diabetes. I thought it would be the end -- but no, we just started her on shots. Last December she became extremely ill and I thought again that it was the end -- but no, she rallied and came back home.



Since Seymour died, she had been much more needy and clingy and for the past few months has wanted nothing more than to be held and cradled on my shoulder. That is probably the one thing I will miss most.



She was a great cat.