The story of Sam

Having a hard day. We're bringing my 15 year old cat, Sam, to the vet this morning to be put down. Arthritis, kidney failure, and a tumor in her neck that is starting to obstruct her airway and ability to eat. The vet said she would begin to suffocate soon, and that its not at all peaceful.

Samantha and her brother, Duckie, were found on a farm, likely dumped. I had just started grad school and needed someone soft and fuzzy to cuddle. I called the local vet's office, and they hooked me up with the farmers who had found this duo. A calico and an orange tiger. Sam was named quickly after she would just flop backwards in my arms, spreading her front legs like an eagle. Samantha Eagle, ala the Muppets.  Duckie was shy (later realizing he was feral) and would actually "duck" an incoming hand to avoid being touched. They set the trend for all of our future cats to be named after birds.

Sam has had a good life. Her purr sounds like marbles rolling around in her throat. I can cluck and she perks up immediately, looking for me. She had her own pillow, next to mine, to sleep on. And occasionally, I would sleep on my side and I'd find her perched, up on my hip, balancing precariously. 

I love you Sam.