November 3, 2002. Begrudgingly, I rolled out of bed knowing if I hit snooze one more time I wouldn't get my son to the bus, my daughter to daycare, and forget making it to work on time. Alas, it was cold, I was tired but I got the day rolling anyway.
Work was just another day, counting down the minutes until 5pm. Until, I vaguely caught a glimpse of something orange run by me. No, I must I have been daydreaming. But, there it goes again, a kitten? Where would a kitten come from in an industrial park?
I had lunch at my desk that day, but wasn't really hungry. Leaving my chicken salad behind and my office door open, I headed outside into the cold for a smoke break. Smoking wasn't worth shivering so almost immediately headed back in, and there he was. A little orange kitten, eating my chicken salad. What a jerk.
Spending the next 3 hours totally unproductive at my job, I chased said kitten around the office. On the desk, under the desk, up the curtains, and so on. Finally I tried to shoo him into a cardboard box with a broom. He ran up the broom handle, scratched my hands like a little baby cheetah and took off again. What a jerk.
Finally I relented and enlisted the help of some fellows on the back. Armed with welding gloves and determination we finally won over this 2 lb monster. Now what though? Homeward bound it is I guess.
That night we chose a name, well the 2 year old chose a name. Sammy. Sammy got locked in the bathroom to be tamed. He hid in the closest, behind the toilet, and under the sink. I was losing hope that this fellow would ever be a family pet. Then one day, after 6 months he just decided to be a part of the family. Well, a menace to the family but hey you can't have everything.
Sammy, the cat that hung from the curtains at every opportunity, then dropped down on you like some wild animal trying to go for the kill. Sammy, the cat that would rub on your hand to be petted but when you did he would viciously bite you. Sammy, the cat the would hide behind a chair and jump out and scratch your feet as you went by. What a jerk.
Broken dishes, climbing on counters, destroyed furniture, ripped curtains, and a few dead pet hamsters, that was life with Sammy.
Life with Sammy meant a lot of blood shed. But....we loved him. I loved him. Despite him being a jerk, he was a great cuddler. Sammy met me at the door every single day. Sammy comforted me through hard times in life. Sammy slept in my bed every night. I loved him.
About 6 months ago, at 15, Sammy was diagnosed with cancer. We brought him home to live out the rest of his days. It didn't seem to stop Sam from being Sam. He was still climbing on the table and spilling the little girls half full glass of milk. Still scratching my furniture and biting me when I scratched his head. But this past Sunday was different. He didn't want to be a jerk. Not once, all day. He wanted to be on my lap, he wanted to have his head scratched. Sammy didn't wander far from me that day. At 4:30 in the afternoon, while sleeping on my lap, it was over. Sammy was gone.
The grief is almost unbearable. People say it is just a cat, but he was my cat, my little jerk. I managed to explain it to my kids and comfort them but I don't seem to reason with myself when behind closed doors. Sammy left me with many wounds and scars, but this final wound is one that won't heal for some time to come.
