I was twelve years old when my mom, my sister, my cousin and I took a trip to a friend's farm to look at a litter of kittens. The cats my parents brought with them to Illinois from Las Vegas before I was born had both passed away and our house felt empty without the unconditional love of a pet. I remember finding a tiny kitten that I wanted to bring home, but was too young to leave it's mother. I was so upset that my sister ended up picking out a kitten who we named Sammy.
Sammy was never a typical cat. He never meowed or hissed, but instead he would chatter at the squirrels he saw outside the window. One time my little sister grabbed him by the tail not knowing any better and he kept coming back for more. You could carry him around the house like that and he won't care.
We slowly adopted other cats who needed homes and Sammy took charge of the group. He would wonder around the house pulling on the cat food container to let us know we the food bowl was empty.
Last week my mom had to make the toughest decision of all. Sammy always hated the vet, but this trip was different. He curled up next to my mom, purring nonstop. And after seventeen years of ruling my parents house, Sammy left us.
He was the most lovable cat anyone ever had the pleasure of knowing and we will miss him desperately.