November 13, 2009

• Sam In Love

  
  

  “There are no ordinary cats.”
  -Collette
  

  My Sam, our big boy-kitty (please see my profile picture) is a character. I’ve had several cats (or, as they see it, they’ve had me) throughout my life: Charlie was my little brother, Nappy was my lover-boy, G.G. was my roommate and confessor, and Jag was our buddy… Sam is my baby… and my puppy.

  We adopted Sam when he was three months old (and already huge… he is part Maine Coon). He was a little bit people-shy, but we very quickly realised that he was not dog-shy. When we took him back to the vet (where we adopted him) after a month or two for a routine check-up, we told Dr. Kris about Sam’s dog-like habits of playing fetch, chewing on my slippers, and sort of barking at the neighbours’ dogs, et cetera. Kris laughed and told us: “Well, he was born downstairs in the kennel. We let him wander around pretty freely, since he had such a calming effect on the dogs.”

  Sam liked to nap with the dogs in the kennel, and played with the puppies in the little fenced-in yard.

  All of this explained a lot. To this day (Sam turned nine years old on July 4, 2009), Sam LOVES a good game of fetch. My slippers are always soggy (even though Sam no longer has teeth). He’s made friends with many of the dogs that live in our complex. During the warmer months, he sits in the window and “talks” to his canine friends when they are out for their walks. He has a weird meow for them that is very similar to a bark.

  I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam fell in love with Sylvia, a mostly-white American Pit-bull. She and her owners lived here for a few months, and then moved to a place up the road. I don’t know who couldn’t fall in love with her; she’s sweet, friendly, very smart, and Sylvia is a beauty queen with her big blue eyes, sweet pink nose and impeccable fashion sense (she usually goes with a simple pink bow on her collar… understated and classy… that’s Sylvia!).

  To say that Sam was a smitten kitten would be an understatement. Oh, the meowing that went on!!!

  … And, Sam’s affections were returned. Sylvia’s owners could not keep her from breaking free of her leash and running to our front door every single time they took her outside.

  Every morning, around six, I’d hear someone yell, “Sylvia! NO!” A few seconds later, I’d hear Sylvia scratching at our storm door; this was accompanied by Sam’s meowing like his heart was breaking.

  Sam is not an outdoor cat (especially because he no longer has teeth), but I let him onto the front porch with Sylvia. They’d sniff at each other and give each other kisses. He’d purr and she’d murmur like she was in Heaven. Sylvia would bow down and Sam would put his front paws on top of her head and clean her ears. Her tail would swish back and forth at about 60 mph.

  The same thing would happen another three or four times each day.

  Then, Sylvia disappeared.

  Alas. My little man moped around the apartment, meowing… oh, such mournful meowing!!!

  Then, one morning back in October, Ken and I were sitting, having coffee and muffins. All of a sudden, Sam, who had been sleeping on his chair by the window, jumped up and ran for the front door, sliding on the linoleum (on his big ol’ butt). He slammed into the door, meowing frantically.

  Ken and I were laughing and saying, “What got into him?” Then we heard barking, and there was scratching on the storm door. Ken opened the door and there was Sylvia, her leash on the ground behind her.

  I let Sam out onto the porch and he got the life licked out of him. He gave as good as he got.

  The lady who owns Sylvia came running up the hill all out of breath and apologizing… like we’d be upset or something, right?

  That was when we found out that the couple and Sylvia moved just up the road. On their way out somewhere, they stopped to check their old mailbox here. The lady said that as soon as they turned into the driveway, the dog went nuts. When they parked she put the leash on, thinking Sylvia just needed to “use the facilities”. As soon as the car door opened, the dog ran right to our door.

  The guy-owner looked mildly annoyed. The chiquita was cool about it; she and I pretty much ignored him… Sylvia was almost flat on her belly with her tail going 60 mph. Sam was holding her head down and cleaning behind her ears. The lady was like, “I can’t believe how STILL she’s laying there!” (Sylvia is a hyper puppy).

  After they left (their parting was such sweet sorrow… I swear, Sam was slick and shiny with dog slobber), Sam went inside and slept most of the day away, content.

  Sylvia comes to visit about once a week, now. Same sappy love scene on my front porch each time. My cat smells like a wet dog most of the time. Mikey, our other cat, looks on (from a distance… Mikey does NOT like dogs) with what can only be described as disgust. My husband and I preach tolerance, but I don’t think she is listening.

  What will Sam do after next month, when we move to Wisconsin, cruelly ripping him from his ladylove?

  Well… Sam will be staying with some of Ken’s cousins for a while when we get to Wisconsin. One of their neighbours has many dogs (she is some kind of breeder, I think). I’m sure that will help to keep Sam’s mind off of Sylvia… Well. I hope it will help, anyway. My poor little man!

  Note: Because our moving date was rescheduled (we were originally going to leave in February 2010; we are now set to move right after Christmas), I doubt that I will be online much, if at all, after this weekend. I definitely won’t have time to write much of anything… so I wanted to take this time to wish good luck to my friends who are participating in NaNo, and to wish you all happy holidays! 

  • 5:55 pm
  • 30 Comments