Sam
By MommyVal

I adopted Sam at the tender age of 5-6 months from a local shelter, six years ago. He is my first "grown up" cat, some 20 years after my "Daffy" had been put to sleep. Before this, I had neither the inclination or capability to care for a cat, but an opportunity and decision to adopt two abandoned kittens fizzled.

I started a two month search, indecisive, until I saw Sam. He looked like a Birman, but is half-Siamese, a Lynx Point. He's longhaired with furry "breeches" and tufts in his ears and feet. His pads are pink and black. Until cut off to tame a flea problem, he had a big ruff around his neck. People glancing at his photo thought he was a little Husky dog. I thought this cutie was already adopted, but by closing, he was still available. The next day I came for a formal visit. He got loose from his cage and was slinking under the cages...this cat had attitude and personality, and a purr that wouldn't stop. He was perfect.

We came home the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. He was my little shadow, following wherever I went, talking a mile a minute. Tthe bell on his collar jingled every time he jumped off and on the bed, punctuated by his attacks on my toes.

He developed a cold, and I took him for a free vet visit offered by the shelter. He huddled in my arms as the vet took his temperature. She couldn't believe we'd been together just five days.

Six years later, he still follows me from room to room. He whines, he cries, he meows - he's a cat with a full vocal repetoire. He loves to give kisses and lick my head, but isn't fond of being held. He likes to be chased around the room, or just bat a ball back and forth (his aim is terrible and I do a lot of runing around to retrieve the ball). He gets the "night crazies."

In the morning when I stir, he walks up my back to curl on my pillow next to my face. Sometimes he throws his upper hind leg over my neck, burying my nose in tummy fur.

He loves Q-tips and will tip over any wastebasket that has some, whether or not in sight. He loves to chew on the rubber suction cup that is supposed to hold a toothbrush (he'll chew the toothbrush, too), and will only drink from one water faucet with his rear well elevated. He wants company or petting when he eats, and doesn't like his butt-hair trimmed when it gets clots.

He's been a "surfer cat" who flies into a room, onto furniture, and sometimes finds himself sliding off. He always greets me at the door with a big stretch and ankle rub, before demanding the attention he wants.

He's the only cat I know who whines and carrys on when thirsty, so much so that if I'm on the phone I have to excuse myself to go "water the cat." As often as not, he does anything but drink (once he does, he alternates drinking and headbonks). When he's driven me crazy enough running back and forth turning the water on and off, I end up upending him onto his back and "watering" him with a medicine dropper. As much as he hates that position, he actually likes this.

He likes to bounce into a room with his back arched, legs stiff, and tail upright. The first time he did this, I was ready to hold him off with a chair, until I realized he was bluffing. He still plays bluffs, but his play can turn suddenly into a swipe with his claw. We both contend for dominance in this household. I suspect he wins.

He can be very aggressive when stimulated, sometimes for no discernible reason. He's given me enough scares and scars to earn his full name, "Sam the Monster Cat from Hell." I wouldn't trade him for anything. He's a lover and a fighter. I probably would lose his licks on the ear, his kitty kisses and headbonks from no particular reason, if the other side of his nature were tamed.