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| Name: |
Sam
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Age: |
Six months old
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| Gender: |
Male
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Kind: |
House Cat
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| Home: |
Malmö, Sweden
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Getting Sam was like having an unplanned baby. One minute I was living in a single no pet household, and the next I was with cat. Let's call it a wine-based decision. I was at a party when a friend of mine asked me if I wanted a kitten, because one of her dad's barn cats had just had a litter, and in some weepy state of halfway-through-the-bottle all I could think of was how cute kittens are (she showed me photos and they were so cute), so of course, of course, I said yes.
The thing is I had in fact sort-of, but not like 100% seriously, been surfing the web looking to adopt an adult rescue cat. My old cat, who unfortunately passed away in the summer of '14, was a rescue cat and I loved that big ol' lug with all my heart. There are a lot of cats out there who need help, so it felt like the right thing to do. Besides, I didn't feel mentally prepared to deal with a kitten and everything that comes with it (shredded furniture, disciplining, teaching it about the world and the birds and the bees etc.). And yet ...
By mid-August I was in a car headed an hour due north to pick up this little grey ball of fluff that supposedly was my responsibility now. I got him for a lottery ticket and a box of chocolate (it honest to goodness pisses me off so bad how little value cats have to people...). The family I got him from were very nice people, but they had that quite common Swedish "this is the country side" philosophy that cats can spend their lives in the barn and simply fill their function as rat catchers in exchange for clean water, some kibble and the occasional scratch behind the ear.
So when I got him, the little bugger was feral, had his ears full of scabies and to top it off he had a cold. I prepared to settle in for a long night of no sleep and a lot of crying, but I was surprised to say the least. He slept all through the night, on top of me of course which was less than comfortable but a sacrifice I think any cat owner would've made, and didn't make a single peep. The next day I took him to the vet where he was prescribed medicine for the scabies and eye ointment for the cold. Two weeks later he was like a brand new kitten.
I asked my ten-year-old kid brother what he thought I should name him and he said Sam. My kid brother's name is Samuel. Yeah. The grade A ego runs in the blood in this family. Anyway, I asked him for a name so I couldn't really say no. Sam it was.
Sam the kitten is, by every standard ever made concerning how good cats are (not sure such a standard exists to be honest, but it probably should), the best cat in the world. He really is and I don't care what anyone has to say about it, my cat is the best cat literally ever. Since I got him four months ago he hasn't really destroyed any furniture, except the sofa which just smells better than the cat tree I guess? but it's white pleather so it doesn't really show, or decorations. Well... Almost no decorations. He tipped over a framed poster so the glass shattered and pretty much devoured the bedspread, BUT other than that. No incidents...
Seriously though, he really is the sweetest cat ever. At night he sleeps right by my head on his own pillow and purrs right into my ear, I've grown so used to it it sort of works like a lullaby by now. He's not nearly as wild n' out as when I first got him, but spends most of his time sleeping in various poses of that-cannot- be-comfortable; mostly on his blanket in the bedroom window or in the bedside armchair that no one else even dare to approach anymore. Or, if I'm on the computer, in my lap doing his most to stop me from being productive.
He does have two spazz outs a day, though. Once at midday when he will fight his cat tunnel, fight his cat bed (which he has never even slept on...), fight his stuffed animal skunk and, if I'm home, fight me. And then he'll have a second one closer to 9 PM when he'll drag a plastic bottle around underneath the sofa because yeah, apparently that's fun. But honestly I'm just happy he sleeps through the night and don't mind sleep-ins.
So when all is said and done, I love my obnoxious little tomcat (more than he deserves on any given day) and I wouldn't trade him off for the world. Sometimes a wine based decision will turn out to be the best decision you ever made.
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