First, some background on how we came to acquire Samson. I work at a water garden nursery near here. We had a nursery cat, Sultan (named for a variety of water lily) that died suddenly in May 2003. I took it very hard as he was sort of "my" cat, even though he was at the warehouse. My husband, Juan, and I had been in an apartment for a long time. We'd talked about having animals if and when we ever got a house. The problem was that he said they needed to be outside and I said inside. So it seemed pointless to even talk about it since we didn't agree.

Anyway, in August of 2003 we bought our house. Ours. No landlord to tell us we can't get a pet. About September, after yet another meltdown on my part about losing Sultan, Juan says we needed to talk. He then says "I've been thinking about this. If you want to get an indoor cat, that's OK, but there are 2 rules". I ask what the rules are. He says "First, the cat cannot come into the bedroom" (after bringing Sammy home he was there in 3 days sleeping on the end of the bed). The 2nd rule? "If the cat makes any messes on the floor, YOU clean them up". I laughed and said something about the fact that I couldn't even get him to wash dishes, why would I think he'd pick up cat poop? Anyway, with both of us working all day, I didn't think it would be fair to the cat.

Then Juan's son moves in with us for a while, this was in October. Around the end of October, someone either dumps a cat off close to the nursery or the cat wandered in. He decided he liked it there. The problem was that the boss didn't want another warehouse/office cat. We have one feral living there, this cat didn't like the feral one too much. Anyway, as always, it was decided that I was the one to call the shelters, etc to try to find said kitty a home. Well, I tried our old cat's vet as they have an adoption program. Nope, too full. I tried all the no-kill shelters. They were all full, no luck. No one at work wanted him, they all have pets, so lots of reasons. So I asked Juan again if it was OK that I brought a cat home. Then I broke the news to the cat that it was either the Humane Society (and you never know their fate there) or home with us. I brought him home. He's named Samson due to the strength that he had at a vet visit. The vet went to draw blood to run the tests and he kicked so hard that the syringe flew out of his leg and onto the floor and bent, so the vet had to start over. Then it took two people to hold him down and the vet to trim his nails. Yup. He was scrawny but strong. You've seen his photo, he's not scrawny anymore....

The baby food. Well, in April of 2004 I called the vet to see what they charge for cleaning teeth. I made the appointment, as Samson had very nasty-smelling breath. They told me at the (NEW) vet clinic (I changed vets after the first visit with the kicking episode) that if they found a bad tooth they'd have to pull it. As it went, they had to pull one. The vet gives me the medicine (which he took about once) and told me that I'd better feed him soft/wet food for a couple days until he healed up. Now this is a fussy cat. He's NEVER eaten ANY canned food, no matter the flavor or brand. And he doesn't like Pounce or Temptation cat treats. He only eats one kind of dry cat food. Juan and I go to the store. He picks out 3 cans of wet food. I told him I needed to go to the baby aisle. Being the cat person that I am, I read a lot of cat magazines and books. I'd remembered reading that baby food is a good soft food for cats, especially baby kittens that haven't got a mommy anymore. So I come back with Lamb and Rice, Veal and Turkey. He shuns the Lamb and Rice. I didn't even open the Veal. I gave him the Turkey and he went insane. I swear I heard him say that he liked it even more than fresh catnip - LOL. So now he thinks that he needs his Turkey Baby Food every day. And of course, being the good mommy that I am, he gets it.

It's really quite funny. He can be laying on the floor, and totally ignoring us. I'll start out "Samson, do you love your mommy?". No response. "Do you love your daddy?". Nothing. "Do you love your t-t-t-toys" (emphasizing the t sound). Still nothing. Then I ask if he loves his "tur-KEY?". His head pops up, his eyes enlarge, he stares at me. I swear he's smiling. If he is outside and won't come in, short of picking him up and hauling his furry self in the house, I'll ask him if he wants "tur-KEY". Pretty soon he stands up, stretches and gives me a look that says "I was on the way in anyway...what's the big deal?". He is quite fond of his treat. So it's a bribe sometimes. A lot of the times at about 3 a.m. when I want to go back to sleep.

So there you have it, Flippy. He's pretty spoiled, isn't he? I write songs (to familiar tunes) about him. It drives Juan crazy. Oh well!

Copyright © Sue Banda
September 27, 2006