So long, Sammy

Sampson Gregory Jennings

May 2005 - June 13, 2012

I remember going to the animal shelter with my best friend, Kim, back in July 2005 to adopt my first baby. We came upon a litter of three of the cutest kittens: the calm (almost too calm for a kitten) female was black with a white belly and white paws; her crazy (and I mean Tigger-bouncing crazy) brother was tan with some faint markings but no white; and the sweet-but-playful brother with the traditional-yet-gorgeous tabby coat, white cloud belly, white proud chest, white massive paws, big velvet ears, and future emerald eyes was my Sampson.

Originally named Mack, this handsome boy was worthy of a great name, and being an English teacher, I combed the works of Shakespeare to find the perfect fit. The characters from Romeo and Juliet were still jesting and dancing in my head from the students' videos from only a month before, and I couldn't help but think of "Mack" and his bouncing brother as Sampson and Gregory from the opening scene of the play, as they leaped around their sister perhaps biting their thumbs at her. I looked up the name "Sampson" in a baby book, like any expectant mother would.

 Sampson \s(a)-mp-
son, sam-pson\ as a boy's name is a variant of Samson (Hebrew), and the meaning of Sampson is "sun".

I hadn't even brought him home yet, and he was already pure sunshine filling my heart with a joyous light that only an animal could. Of course there was his namesake from the Old Testament, the hero with superhuman strength and long locks. Judging by his paws and ears, I knew my Sampson was going to be a strong, big boy too. But even the strongest demi-god is no match for fate, and even a lion can be weakened and defeated by nature's diseases.

Sampson's first day at home (July 2005) and after Christmas vacation (Dec 2011) right before the diabetes diagnosis

Guarding his chair

I've always described Sampson as being socially awkward. At the same time he thoroughly enjoyed the company of others by finding a comfy spot to relax in the same room in which everyone was gathering, he wouldn't hesitate to take a swipe or vocalize his discomfort when people he didn't know too well (and sometimes even those he did) came too close and too abruptly without his consent. He sure had his territories - his cat house, the railing leading downstairs, and on top of the living room chair - that he was not shy about protecting. Any change in routine or out-of-the-ordinary really ruffled his fur, and his defenses went up immediately. But even though my cat acted all high and mighty and fierce, he was just a big scaredy-cat. It was all just a front, a front that worked well, mind you. I always begged him to let people in the way he let me (and later my children).

The Sampson I grew to know and love was nothing less than an affectionate, playful kitty who melted like butter during a chin and ear scratch and lived for a good game of fetch with sparkly, crinkly balls or crumpled paper. He enjoyed being held like a baby and having his belly gently stroked, and we both had a good face-to-face nuzzle every day. He let the kids chase him around the house and never once attacked them aside from the occasional warning bat if they got too rough.

 He rubbed up on them at mealtimes when they put his food down and didn't mind that they watched him eat and pet him in the process. He accepted Olivia's bear hugs every morning and conversed with her through alternating meows. Like any feline, playing hide-and-seek in boxes and baskets was one of his favorite past times. He was also a champion jumper. I think Mike reworked the gate leading upstairs at least six times before Sampson conceded.

I regret not having more pictures of Sammy and the kids, especially with Olivia as a toddler and one with C&O with him.

His green eyes were strikingly beautiful. I can't help but wonder if the spot he developed in his right eye was a sign of what was to come. Was it related to the diabetes, or was it separate condition? Did it contribute to his getting sick? I'll never know.

Speaking of Mike, I have to give him a lot of credit and thank him from the bottom of my broken heart for making it possible to share our lives with a furry son and friend. He is allergic to cats and is far from a cat person, but because he loves me so much, he agreed to make Sampson a part of our family. Though he never pet Sampson or called him by any other name than "the cat," he still cared for him as if he were his own. He built Sampson a house to climb, scratch, and nap in, and when that house got too small for our tiger, he constructed a more spacious design. It was so big that my sister decided to give it a test  drive one night, much to Sampson's chagrin. Mike cleaned his litter box for over two years while I was pregnant and nursing babies. He fed him and changed his water any time I was away. If Mike was in charge of the family dinner, he would throw some scraps of meat in Sampson's dish for a yummy snack. He built a cat-friendly entrance and ramp for him to use to get downstairs once all the childproofing happened. For a non-cat person, my husband has been most caring and thoughtful.

As we were lying in bed last night sharing memories of Sampson, Mike confessed that he had already started to do things for the cat that evening and had to stop himself after realizing the cat was gone. He put the blinds back down, for there wouldn't be any birdwatching at sunrise the next morning, and he shut the gate leading downstairs since access to the litter box was no longer needed. And then he said, "It's going to be weird at the grocery store on Friday not picking out his food for the week." So while Sampson was simply "the cat" to Mike in the beginning, he was THE cat by the time he left. 

Our first Christmas card picture was with Sampson. He was just about seven months old. He loved the holidays, as many cats do, because of the plethora of boxes, paper, bows, ribbons, ornaments, etc. Our house was a toy store just for him.

Easter was another favorite of Sampson's, again because of the baskets, flowers, eggs, and other extra things to play with.

How did we get here?

Yesterday I was stroking a warm body of silky fur and listening to the motor of a kitty who was sick but very much alive, yet today I had to stop vacuuming because as each clump and wisp of Sammy hair disappeared into the power nozzle, another piece of him was gone. I was erasing him.

How do you explain to a toddler and her 3-year-old brother that their beloved pet will no longer be greeting them at the bottom of the stairs for breakfast or at the front window after an afternoon walk? Since I was told of Sampson's fate literally minutes before picking Collin up from camp, he saw me at my worst and asked why Mommy was so sad. I had never planned out a preschool version of what death was before yesterday; I just spoke from my heart.

"The vet cannot help Sampson feel better anymore, but God can make him feel better in heaven. Today Sampson will be going to see God in heaven. And while I'm happy he is going to be happy and healthy up there, I am still going to miss him so much. That's why Mommy is sad."

"But God can just shoop him back to our house as soon as he feels better, Mommy. He'll be back in a few minutes," my innocent, hopeful son replied.

"No, he is going to stay in heaven to help God make all the other kitties and puppies who are sick feel better too. God needs him to be a friend to them."

"But when all the animals feel better, they can come home. Sampson will be home in a little while," Collin rationalized. 

[Gulp.]

"Heaven is Sampson's home now, honey. God is taking care of him. It's his time to go be with God. I'm sorry, buddy, but I promise he is going to be happy and playing up there with all the other animals."

"When I get enough money, I'm going to buy a rocket booster and fly up to heaven to see Sampson and God, Mommy. Is heaven in the sky? It's in space, right?"

[He was really trying to fix the problem and make me feel better. God bless my Collin Monster.]

"You can think of it like that. Heaven is out there somewhere in the universe; we just can't see it, but we know it's there. We feel God is there for us and with us."

"And God has a rocket ship he can fly around in!"

[Gotta love a little kid's imagination! Whatever works, right? He was trying to make sense of it all in his own way. It was a sweet moment, even if under the saddest of circumstances.]

This is Sammy Cat, one of Collin's favorite bedtime pets (before Hoppitt came this Easter, Sammy Cat was THE favorite). A sweet and thoughtful student of mine gave this little guy to me in 2006 after listening to me go on and on all year about my cutie kitten. Little did she know he would be my firstborn's nighttime companion and now a tangible symbol of the cat with the same name that we love so much. For the past two days, I feel like I need Sammy Cat more than Collin does.

Later, Mike came home from work to be with me for what was probably the hardest thing I have ever had to do aside from attending funerals of family members. The decision to euthanize my first baby was not an easy one, nor was it much of a choice. Sampson was well into a severe state of DKA, or diabetic ketoacidosis, which developed as a result of not having enough insulin. He was a hard one to regulate because his disposition did not make it easy to administer shots and do regular glucose testing, which is what he needed to stay healthy. We even had the vet come to the house to try for a blood test at one point with no luck. Also, with two kids and only one parent earning a solid income, we didn't have the cash flow for as much insulin and special food as Sampson required. DKA would mean Sampson staying at an emergency animal hospital for IV fluids, testing, medications, more testing, poking, proding, etc., and all that stress and thousands of dollars later would not even guarantee a picture of good health. In the end, my kitty was feeling miserable, suffering, and on the brink of death. The only humane thing to do was put him to rest.

On the way out of the house to say a final goodbye to my friend, I asked Collin if there was anything he wanted me to tell Sampson. You want to know what he said? In true, smiling, Collin fashion he exclaimed, "Happy God!!!" My sister-in-law (who is a saint and rushed right over to be with my kids while Mike and I went to the vet to be with Sampson) and I both felt that one straight to the heart. He said it like leaving life on Earth for life in heaven was just another celebratory holiday, like a happy birthday! or merry Christmas! And you know what? He's right, isn't he? Maybe I should try to take a lesson from my wise-beyond-his-years son and celebrate the fact that Sampson is comfortable and enjoying all that God's kingdom has to offer, including spending time with our other beloved pets that have passed on (Kramer, TJ, Moonie). Happy God! indeed.

So after a final chin-and-ear-scratch, belly rub, and cuddles that would never be enough, I watched my SammyDoo squint and wink his eyes at me, letting me know that everything was going to be okay, as I sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to him. And now when I look up at the sun and the stars, I can imagine Sampson riding around the universe on God's rocket ship, watching over our family as all angels do.

Rest in peace, Sammy. I love you so much. <3

Sampson was an indoor cat for the most part, but he spent many hours outside on our patio hunting bugs and insects. He even had a run-in with a baby opossum one summer. He didn't know what to do with the thing, especially when it played dead (they really do that)! Btw, the picture at the bottom right was taken just a month ago. As you can see, he was doing so well! I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be writing about his passing on the blog today.

 

 

Mike and I picked out a nice rhododendron and some annuals to plant in his favorite hunting spot (see large picture above) as a tribute to what an awesome family member he was. We're all really going to miss that guy. ;(