Dedicated to the Greatest Cat Ever

Gone, but Never Forgotten

I remember the day when we first got you. My mother took me, my brother, and my two little sisters to the local pet store to get some more toys for the dogs we had at the time, but when I walked in, I saw you. You were the sun. The way you seemed to glow, your orange fur mesmerizing my six-year-old eyes. You were beautiful, radiant. I made my way over to you and reached my little, sausage fingers into your cage and you returned with a lick and a soft meow. Your green eyes drew me to you and I knew that I had to have you.

On the way home, you howled. You were always so afraid of the car. We talked about you. Your name was Sam, but that was also my sister's name, so we gave you a C for cat. You didn't throw up in the car, but you threw up as soon as we brought you inside. As our tired parents cleaned up the mess, we paraded you around the house and gave you the best tour we could muster. You met your friends that you would outlive.

Boxer Jane seemed to like you. She and you never fought and you were always laying in the sun together, as cats do. She would watch from the window as you would go outside and explore our cul de sac. You were never chased by our two dogs, who you seemed to like very much. Buster and Cody never got too much in your business and you grieved when every single one of them passed away.

You were a tough guy, quickly took over our home and our hearts. You went outside for entire days and we'd see your bright orange fur in the green porch chair as we came home from school. You always seemed to be right on time for us, wanting to greet us.

You let the four-year-old twins bathe you. You got all sudsy and upset and it probably wasn't good for your skin, but you didn't scratch them. You didn't even growl. You were tough, but you understood love and would do anything for us.

When you were out one night, three foxes cornered you on our front porch. We all watched in horror as they stalked you, but you didn't give up. You hissed and growled and fought each of them off with only a clip in your ear to show from the fight. You thought you were going to die, but you didn't.

When you were rolling around on the driveway, entangled with your teeth in a raccoon and it clawing at your sweet, ginger fur. There was so much blood and we gasped when the yowling stopped. We were afraid to look, but you were standing, tail bushed out as the bloody creature fled with its tail between its legs. We thought you were going to die, but you didn't.

When you left for three days. My brother was in tears, carrying around your picture frame and watching our porch constantly. We checked the pound, the streets, put up fliers until my mother gave in and got your sister, Mungo. You came back the night we got her. We thought you had died, but you didn't.

When you were gone for exactly 62 days. We were all so worried. We thought you had left for good or finally lost to the raccoon or the foxes. We didn't know what happened to you, but you came back. You were fat and happy and it was raining and you were wet, but you didn't seem to care. You purred and gladly ate the ice cream my dad "accidentally" left out. We thought you had died, but you didn't.

You would leave for some periods of time, but you always came back. You needed us. You needed to make sure we were safe at night, to sleep on our feet, to bother us as we ate, to show the new cats the ropes to taking care of us. Every time you lived, it was for us, but you couldn't be strong forever.

You grew old. You were still so kind and patient. When we got the new kitten, you never once hurt him even though he really absolutely bothered you. You stopped going outside as much and for as long. Your muscles wore down to almost nothing. You stopped purring. Your meow wouldn't come out anymore. Your kidneys started to fail. It was our turn to be strong.

Tonight was our last night together, and it's the hardest thing I've experienced so far. I know we've both lost the others, but I was too young to have known the others for long. I grew up with you. You took care of me during heartbreaks. You slept on my chest when I was sick. You saved my life multiple times, so I'm sorry I couldn't save yours.

Everyone left when you started to cry as they put the catheter in. You had fear in your eyes. You were hissing and growling and fighting for life. You didn't want to go, but you knew you had to. Everyone left because they couldn't bear to see you like that, but it was my turn to be strong for you. Your ginger fur from your leg was shaved off. It reminded me of that scene in Narnia when they shaved Aslan. You were my lion. You were brave and you had some ice cream afterwards. I didn't get to hold you as you were sedated. You slowly became limp in my brother's arms. Your head relaxed on his shoulder and you looked so tired. You didn't want to leave, I know you were trying to stay alive for us, but we had to be strong.

I'll never forget the feeling in my chest as they slowly pushed the poison into you. How I watched your flank stop moving and your tongue fell out of your mouth. How your eyes turned glassy and you stared at nothing. How wide your pupils were. Your eyes wouldn't shut and your mouth wouldn't close. I knew your spirit was gone. All that was left was your shell and I hope so badly that somehow you saw us grieving for you. That you're watching me even now somewhere with all of the other animals we've had to say goodbye to.

I hope you know you were loved so much. I had them save your hair and we have your big paw prints that your apprentice, the kitten who annoyed you so much, wants to fill. I know you taught everyone how to care for us. You taught us patience when you kept pissing on the floor in the basement. You taught us grief when you left for those 62 days. You taught us to stay strong when you stood your ground with those wild animals. You taught us love when you didn't hate us after the twins bathed you. And you taught us the process of life.

You were an amazing fifteen years, Sam C. I will always remember you and, yes, I will grieve for days. You might not want me to, but I will. As long as I am alive, you memory will be alive. I'll never forget your beautiful orange coat, your meow, your lovely green eyes and those two silly freckles on your nose. You were and will always be my boy, even though your spirit has moved on. I love you and you might be gone, but you will never be forgotten.