WHO WILL WRITE MY CHRISTMAS LETTER NOW?




I got some very sad news today.  My beloved cat Sam, who I had to give to some very nice people four years ago, is dying of cancer.  We got Sam and his sister Lucy in 1996.  They were beautiful cats, part Siamese but without the awful wailing.  Sam had white paws and a white streak on his nose.  We found out from the adoption place that they were found in an office parking lot.  Evidentally, the mother cat brought them there hoping someone would find them and give them a good home.

When we first got them home, they refused to come out from under a living room chair.  They stayed there for several days, venturing out only as far as they had to in order to get to the food and water dishes.  Eventually they were brave enough to come out and use the litter boxes and we moved the food dishes to the kitchen.

Once they were out, they were really out.  We had lots of plants in the house, one asparagus fern hung from the ceiling.  They managed to climb up to it and they would swing back and forth on it until we got some spikes to put in the plant.  And did they fight!  At one point Lucy, who was definitely the alpha cat had Sam so scared he crawled under the bed in the master bedroom and would not come out for anything.  He was there for several weeks!  We had to take food and water up to him, as well as a litter box.  If he did venture out and Lucy saw him, she would hiss and he would scamper back to his hiding place.  And then one day, he appeared downstairs like nothing had ever been wrong.  Lucy just ignored him and Sam just went back to being his normal self.

When my husband died and I sold our townhouse in VA, I moved to PA, Sam and Lucy with me, of course.  They were scared to death.  They had never been out of the house except to go to the vet's.  I'd tried to give them tranquilizers, but they were having none of it.  I had to get two friends of mine to come over the morning of the move to help me get them into their carriers.  Once at the new house, it was the same thing.  They refused to come out of the guest bathroom for days.  But once again, they tired of that room and were finally coaxed out into the house.  

Four years ago, I had to take them to a farm about 4 miles out the road from my house because I was having surgery and knew I wouldn't be able to take care of them.  Sam, seemed to acclimate himself very well, unlike Lucy, who disappeared never to be seen again.  The wonderful people who took Sam loved him on sight and although they vowed they were not going to have one more animal in the house, caved in when they met Sam.  And Sam, who had never really been an outdoor cat, loved being outside romping with the other animals.  He really did thrive there.  That made me very happy, knowing that he had a happy home.

And now, he has inoperable cancer.   They've taken him to three vets, discussed options and decided on home treatment of two pills a day.  He's lost a lot of weight, but is still happily sunning himself under his favorite tree and going for walks with the dogs.  

Who will write my Christmas letters now?  Even though I didn't go to see him, it was too hard on me, I have his picture in the living room and think about him all the time.  I truly did miss having him here.  And now I guess I'll have to think about him romping around up on the heavy side layer with Lucy.  I don't know if I will be able to take seeing him one last time.  I'd rather remember him as the fearless Sam, hissing at the mailman, chasing Lucy through the house and snuggling with me at night.

And who will write my Christmas letters now?