Eighteen years ago, when my family moved to Tulsa, a little gray and white kitten decided that he liked our apartment and refused to leave. I remember trying to talk my mom into naming him Pepé Le Pew because he had a white stripe down his back but she MADE me call him Sam instead. He immediately became MY kitten. I dressed him up in my baby doll clothes, I remember putting him in a laundry basket and holding it while I made him and myself dizzy. My sister and I took him “camping” once ( I was 20ish and she was 16ish). Really, we set up our tent in the back yard and Sam was too scared to get his nose out of the corner and we were too cold to last the whole night out there. Around 3am, we all packed up and went inside. Sam and I went straight to my bed and snuggled the rest of the night; happily under my warm blankets.
When I moved to Philadelphia, the one thing I missed the most was that damn cat. He had stolen my heart when I was eight years old, and at the age of 21 I still didn’t have it back. All I wanted was to hear him purr before I went to sleep at night. Such a sweet, deep, warm purr.
I moved back home and then I moved to Phoenix with every intention of coming back for him once I got my own place there. I ended up moving home after a few months because of how much I hated it. I was so depressed at this point in my life. I felt like a failure, I felt like I had a lot of growing up to do but I didn’t know how. I knew I wanted something more in my life, I just didn’t know what. I wasn’t capable of making intelligent decisions in regards to the path I wanted my life to take. But you know what? Every night when I would lie in my bed and think about these things, and a lot of the time I would cry about these things, Sam was always there rubbing on my hand and purring. And then I would calm down and he would cuddle up next to me and we would fall asleep.
After a few years I found myself back in Tulsa while my parents lived in Claremore. I went to their house to visit one day and I saw Sam chilling on my parent’s bed. He had aged so much, but the way he looked at me, was the way he looked at me when he was a kitten. The way he anxiously stood up and followed me everywhere throughout their house was exactly the way he would follow me to the laundry mat when we lived in those ghetto apartments and he was just a baby. I would go back inside, sit in the kitchen in front of the stove, and tell him that he was a “pretty kitty” while I tried to make him purr as loud as he possibly could. Sometimes, my mom would be sewing in the other room and would say “Is that SAM!?”. I don’t know if it was because she really was surprised his motor was running that loud or because she was trying to appease me. Either way, it made me smile. I would sit there, in front of the stove, for hours. Just petting my Sammy.
That day I decided I wanted to bring Sam home with me. He was getting old and losing weight and I wanted to make sure I was with him if anything went wrong.
Today I took Samson (he answered to every one of these names, as well as PSST!. Every time I would say that, he would run to me) to the vet and had him put to sleep. He had suddenly gone blind while I was at work yesterday. His retinas were completely detached from his eyes and there was nothing we could do to make it better. Dr. Caruso asked me if I wanted to stay while she did it, or leave. I looked at Sam and told him we were doing this together. There was no way I was leaving him there by himself like that. He never walked away from me, I wasn’t doing that to him. I know, it might sound retarded because he was a CAT. But dammit, I grew up with him.
The way I missed him while I lived in Philly is similar to the way I feel now. The only difference is that I know I will never hold him again. I will never hear him purr again. I will never feed him again. I will never watch him chase a string again. I will never get to see him and Joey cuddle again. I will never get to watch Sam kick Joey’s ass ever again. I will never yell at him for eating grass again. He will never lay on my feet and keep them warm again. Sam is gone.
There have been a few times today that I have glanced over and saw a white plastic bag and thought it was Sam. I was lying on my couch trying to take a nap and I remembered that every time I laid down like that, he would always come and cuddle next to me or lay on my back.
I know I made the right decision today. He was too old to train himself to function without eyesight. I also just moved into a new apartment today, so the scents and directions of everything are obviously different.
This is just a lot harder than I thought it would be. I didn’t think I was capable of producing this many tears. I have broken down three times today. THREE. I can count on one hand how many times I cried last year. It’s not the way I deal with things, but yesterday and today I haven’t been able to hold them back. They just keep falling. Even feeding Joey was hard. It was hard because I wasn’t feeding Sammy too. I don’t remember life before Sam. And I have never been able to imagine it without him. If I ever get another cat, he has some very big shoes to fill.
Goodbye Sammy Pooh Bear Punkin Head Cutey Pie.
I was blessed to have had 18 years with you.
Gosh I’m so sorry to hear that. I had to put my first pup down and it was honestly the worst day of my life.
I think remembering all the good memories I had with Jinks helped me get through it, and forcing myself to focus on Murphy my younger pup made a big different.
I know you are hurting right now, but just try to through yourself into Joey and she will help you through.
((((BIG HUG))))
Not sure if you remember meeting me at Brad’s place a week or so ago, but I wanted to comment about Sam. I am sorry for your loss and I totally understand and feel your pain. Especially at the beginning of any loss, it seems the worst. My wife and I lost our full blooded seal point Himalayan cat, Pandora to a rare and awful tick disease. She went rapidly downhill, didn’t eat or drink, sat in the same place and spaced out. If I recall this correctly, her red blood cells were being destroyed and not replenished. My wife didn’t have the heart to let her go easy. We took her to the OSU small animal school where they could try to keep her alive with another infected cat’s blood that hadn’t succumbed to the the disease. It was valiant effort and I do hope it helped with understanding the disease more so that it can be combatted in the future, but, I regret that we didn’t put her to sleep instead as it really was stressful to her little body. We were devastated as Pandy had been with us practically the whole time my wife and I have been together. The hurt of death goes deep, especially when it is one you’ve bonded with. Death brings us all together as one, brings us to the reality of life: that all of us have an appointment with death. It’s unavoidable, it’s a fact. Your story brought back to me my loss and then, BAM, “boot to the head”…sadly I never learn. Over and over, this reality of life: death, gets clouded over by my silly complaints, pains, frustrations, problems…etc. As you must know, I don’t suggest we to dwell on death. I’m stating instead that I should focus on the fact, or should I say, the DEMAND that I MUST, MUST, REMEMBER to live each day WITH it’s struggles and frustrations. Demand of myself to NOT let it rule over the gift, the blessing of each day our Creator gives us of life and choice.
Amanda, thank you for sharing your story to me, even though I just tripped over your blog for the first time.
[...] was a tragedy in my small little family. My cat Sam, who had been mine since I was 8 years old, had passed away. I don’t think I have ever cried that much in my life. At one point I called my mom to ask [...]