I grew up in a home where there were always cats as far back as I can recall. I have always loved kitties, especially when they would curl up with me or even just sleep on my bed. We didn't dress them up, but would go to sleep at night petting them while they purred. After I married and had a child of my own, I still loved kitties but my husband was allergic and had real problems with any cats, especially long haired cats, being in our home. I had a manx for a while but had to give him away because he made my husband sneeze like there was no tomorrow. After my divorce, I again found myself wanting a cat and was brought a very pregnant and homeless female who gave birth to her kittens in my closet. It was most likely her first litter as she kept following me around [with a kitten coming out!] until I went with her back to the bed I'd made for her and stayed with her, petting her and speaking in a soft, soothing voice. She had four kittens and my son was thrilled, but, he was also allergic and we had to give them away. My son was very sick in early 1973 and was admitted to the hospital with a fever of over 101` and a bright red rash that covered his entire body. Neither he nor I had slept in three days as he was itching terribly and couldn't sleep. While in the hospital, he had his adenoids removed, was given allergy tests and was put on a decongestant and allergy shots to keep him from getting sick an average of every week. When he was 4 yrs. old, we were in a pet shop one nice day [I loved to go in and pet the kittens and puppies] in early Autumn, 1976, and I saw some adorable kittens who looked like lilac Siamese cats. They mostly came over and rubbed against my extended fingers before turning back to their siblings to play, except for one who was so special; I put my finger further in the cage and petted him. He began to purr then gave me a gentle love nip and purred some more. I was hooked for that special connection had been made. I pondered the thought of having a cat in the home, considering the problems my child had had with allergies, but as I stood there holding this sweet, warm little ball of purring fur I knew that he wanted to come home with us as much as I wanted to bring him home, so I paid $10 for him, hoping and praying that my son could live with him without much of a problem, and God must have heard me for my son was as taken with him as I was and didn't react to the short haired kitty who we named "Sam". On the way home, my son put Sam inside his shirt when we went to get cat food, litter, etc. in the grocery store. He laughed because Sammy started to purr and it tickled him. He quickly became a much loved member of our family, sleeping with my son until I went to bed, then coming to sleep with me. I took Sam to the vet for a physical and his shots and, when it was time, got him "fixed" so he wouldn't get into fights or be responsible for kittens being born. We also kept him inside, which he didn't seem to mind. That Fall, I decided to return to Oregon as I missed my family and my ex husband had remarried, so I felt safe. We packed up everything and drove up to Portland, Oregon from San Jose, California in mid November, 1976. I'd gotten him a cat carrier complete with food, water and a litter box. Poor Sam didn't like that cage at all and cried for the first 30 miles or so to be let out. My son said he'd watch Sammy so I decided to give it a try - I just didn't want him hiding under the seats or hindering my ability to drive safely. Sam climbed out of his cage and immediately came to sit on my lap while I drove, purring away. What a relief! We drove until after dark, ending up in Redding, California for the night. I got us a room to stay in and left Sammy in his carrier while my son and I had a late dinner, then returned to our room. He slept outside the carrier, on our bed, all night and we got to Portland before evening. I had a duplex to live in where my older brother and his family had lived while waiting for their new house to be ready, and we stayed there, keeping Sammy inside all of the time, until I found a house to buy the following year. After we moved into our new house in SE Portland, I tried to keep Sam inside most of the time but would let him out during the daytime; he always came home before we went to bed and was a real joy to have in our lives. He liked to go for rides in the car and would sit in the back window, watching traffic, people and animals, not trying to get out of the car until we got home and I told him it was okay to get out. He wanted to go with me to work, but I told him he had to stay home until I got home; he'd watch for me and I'd stop the car and open the door to let him in so he could ride with me to the garage. He was a sweet kitty, very loving and affectionate to both my son and I. He was a "talky" kitty, one of only a few that I've had in my life. I'd talk to him like he was a regular person and he'd meow back at me. I really felt like he knew what I was talking about and I could tell what he was wanting almost all of the time. He even let my son bring in a little stray we named Bright Eyes, behaving like a big brother to her and grooming her after they'd had dinner. Sam slept both with me and my son, switching rooms during the night and snuggling with each of us. He liked to share our meals and even a little milk. He loved to play with both store bought and home made toys, and knew that I didn't want him to bring home birdies. Life was good with my special Sam. Many years later I was having a difficult time of it due to a broken heart combined with a really bad day at work. I was coming home that evening and was upset with my son, now age 9, as well, although today I can't remember why. I was driving down my street when he came running out to the car, something I'd told him never to do, and I started to give him grief about it as well as the issue I was upset about (a babysitter thing, I think) when I suddenly had to stop as he had a really weird look on his face, a look of total dread. I asked him what was wrong and he told me that Sam had been hit by a car. I yelled "Where is he??" and he told me Sam was in a box out back. I went tearing around the corner and my poor son brought out the box with my quite dead kitty in it. He told me that a man had come to the house and had told my son that Sam had run out in front of his car; he'd been hit and had crawled over to the curb by our house and died. There was nothing anyone could do. I was devastated, starting to cry and just couldn't stop. I felt it was all my fault because I'd let him feel that my car was safe; I'd just never taught him that other cars weren't. I didn't even change out of my work clothes before getting my shovel and digging a deep hole for my Sam, just outside of my bedroom window. I think Sammy died in early 1983, after something traumatic had happened in my life that I couldn't talk about for many years so I was already in a bad place emotionally. Our other kitties, Simon, Max and Bright Eyes were also upset, knew that something was very wrong and that Sam was gone. I've never had another kitty like him, although I've had kitties I've loved, each in their own special ways. I've not been able to even talk about my Sammy until going thru old photo albums this evening and seeing him again, realizing that, even though I've usually been good with dates, I'm not very good with regarding the date my Sam died as it upset me so very much. I'd had to have my Debbie kitty put down as she'd had feline leukemia and, at the time, there was no treatment for it, so was upset about my sweet Debbie girl. There were other issues as well that won't be discussed here but that were very traumatizing to me at the time. I will always miss my Sammy and hope and pray he's at the Rainbow Bridge playing with Max, Monique, Benjamin, Simon, Sarah, Bright Eyes, Shadow, Mikie, Naomi, Puff, Maynard, T.W. Anthony Woo, Schlomo, Butchie, and other kitties I've loved and lost thru out my life. I keep my kitties inside now and have never let another cat ride loose in the car, thinking it was a safe thing to do. I don't ever want another kitty lost to a huge piece of speeding metal with wheels again. Love you, Sammy. See you on the other side of Paradise, playing with the angels and pets who have passed, at the Rainbow Bridge.
I grew up in a home where there were always cats as far back as I can recall. I have always loved kitties, especially when they would curl up with me or even just sleep on my bed. We didn't dress them up, but would go to sleep at night petting them while they purred. After I married and had a child of my own, I still loved kitties but my husband was allergic and had real problems with any cats, especially long haired cats, being in our home. I had a manx for a while but had to give him away because he made my husband sneeze like there was no tomorrow. After my divorce, I again found myself wanting a cat and was brought a very pregnant and homeless female who gave birth to her kittens in my closet. It was most likely her first litter as she kept following me around [with a kitten coming out!] until I went with her back to the bed I'd made for her and stayed with her, petting her and speaking in a soft, soothing voice. She had four kittens and my son was thrilled, but, he was also allergic and we had to give them away. My son was very sick in early 1973 and was admitted to the hospital with a fever of over 101` and a bright red rash that covered his entire body. Neither he nor I had slept in three days as he was itching terribly and couldn't sleep. While in the hospital, he had his adenoids removed, was given allergy tests and was put on a decongestant and allergy shots to keep him from getting sick an average of every week. When he was 4 yrs. old, we were in a pet shop one nice day [I loved to go in and pet the kittens and puppies] in early Autumn, 1976, and I saw some adorable kittens who looked like lilac Siamese cats. They mostly came over and rubbed against my extended fingers before turning back to their siblings to play, except for one who was so special; I put my finger further in the cage and petted him. He began to purr then gave me a gentle love nip and purred some more. I was hooked for that special connection had been made. I pondered the thought of having a cat in the home, considering the problems my child had had with allergies, but as I stood there holding this sweet, warm little ball of purring fur I knew that he wanted to come home with us as much as I wanted to bring him home, so I paid $10 for him, hoping and praying that my son could live with him without much of a problem, and God must have heard me for my son was as taken with him as I was and didn't react to the short haired kitty who we named "Sam". On the way home, my son put Sam inside his shirt when we went to get cat food, litter, etc. in the grocery store. He laughed because Sammy started to purr and it tickled him. He quickly became a much loved member of our family, sleeping with my son until I went to bed, then coming to sleep with me. I took Sam to the vet for a physical and his shots and, when it was time, got him "fixed" so he wouldn't get into fights or be responsible for kittens being born. We also kept him inside, which he didn't seem to mind. That Fall, I decided to return to Oregon as I missed my family and my ex husband had remarried, so I felt safe. We packed up everything and drove up to Portland, Oregon from San Jose, California in mid November, 1976. I'd gotten him a cat carrier complete with food, water and a litter box. Poor Sam didn't like that cage at all and cried for the first 30 miles or so to be let out. My son said he'd watch Sammy so I decided to give it a try - I just didn't want him hiding under the seats or hindering my ability to drive safely. Sam climbed out of his cage and immediately came to sit on my lap while I drove, purring away. What a relief! We drove until after dark, ending up in Redding, California for the night. I got us a room to stay in and left Sammy in his carrier while my son and I had a late dinner, then returned to our room. He slept outside the carrier, on our bed, all night and we got to Portland before evening. I had a duplex to live in where my older brother and his family had lived while waiting for their new house to be ready, and we stayed there, keeping Sammy inside all of the time, until I found a house to buy the following year. After we moved into our new house in SE Portland, I tried to keep Sam inside most of the time but would let him out during the daytime; he always came home before we went to bed and was a real joy to have in our lives. He liked to go for rides in the car and would sit in the back window, watching traffic, people and animals, not trying to get out of the car until we got home and I told him it was okay to get out. He wanted to go with me to work, but I told him he had to stay home until I got home; he'd watch for me and I'd stop the car and open the door to let him in so he could ride with me to the garage. He was a sweet kitty, very loving and affectionate to both my son and I. He was a "talky" kitty, one of only a few that I've had in my life. I'd talk to him like he was a regular person and he'd meow back at me. I really felt like he knew what I was talking about and I could tell what he was wanting almost all of the time. He even let my son bring in a little stray we named Bright Eyes, behaving like a big brother to her and grooming her after they'd had dinner. Sam slept both with me and my son, switching rooms during the night and snuggling with each of us. He liked to share our meals and even a little milk. He loved to play with both store bought and home made toys, and knew that I didn't want him to bring home birdies. Life was good with my special Sam. Many years later I was having a difficult time of it due to a broken heart combined with a really bad day at work. I was coming home that evening and was upset with my son, now age 9, as well, although today I can't remember why. I was driving down my street when he came running out to the car, something I'd told him never to do, and I started to give him grief about it as well as the issue I was upset about (a babysitter thing, I think) when I suddenly had to stop as he had a really weird look on his face, a look of total dread. I asked him what was wrong and he told me that Sam had been hit by a car. I yelled "Where is he??" and he told me Sam was in a box out back. I went tearing around the corner and my poor son brought out the box with my quite dead kitty in it. He told me that a man had come to the house and had told my son that Sam had run out in front of his car; he'd been hit and had crawled over to the curb by our house and died. There was nothing anyone could do. I was devastated, starting to cry and just couldn't stop. I felt it was all my fault because I'd let him feel that my car was safe; I'd just never taught him that other cars weren't. I didn't even change out of my work clothes before getting my shovel and digging a deep hole for my Sam, just outside of my bedroom window. I think Sammy died in early 1983, after something traumatic had happened in my life that I couldn't talk about for many years so I was already in a bad place emotionally. Our other kitties, Simon, Max and Bright Eyes were also upset, knew that something was very wrong and that Sam was gone. I've never had another kitty like him, although I've had kitties I've loved, each in their own special ways. I've not been able to even talk about my Sammy until going thru old photo albums this evening and seeing him again, realizing that, even though I've usually been good with dates, I'm not very good with regarding the date my Sam died as it upset me so very much. I'd had to have my Debbie kitty put down as she'd had feline leukemia and, at the time, there was no treatment for it, so was upset about my sweet Debbie girl. There were other issues as well that won't be discussed here but that were very traumatizing to me at the time. I will always miss my Sammy and hope and pray he's at the Rainbow Bridge playing with Max, Monique, Benjamin, Simon, Sarah, Bright Eyes, Shadow, Mikie, Naomi, Puff, Maynard, T.W. Anthony Woo, Schlomo, Butchie, and other kitties I've loved and lost thru out my life. I keep my kitties inside now and have never let another cat ride loose in the car, thinking it was a safe thing to do. I don't ever want another kitty lost to a huge piece of speeding metal with wheels again. Love you, Sammy. See you on the other side of Paradise, playing with the angels and pets who have passed, at the Rainbow Bridge.
