Our Kitty 1994-2012

Samantha the Panther

She saw me through my maturing years. And now she's gone. I just spoke with Amy on the phone to tell her the news - we both cried. I told Jud yesterday. She was their kitty sister.

Samantha (a/k/a Pooncy, and mostly Kitty) Goldsmith passed away yesterday at Creston Vet Clinic. She'll be cremated and scattered at the Pet Cemetery in DSM. Paul and I were there as our longtime vet, Richard Brus gave her the shot to render her unconscious for the next part of the humane "putting to sleep" routine. I gave her one last kiss and we left. I shed a few tears, just like I did when I called and talked to Mindy, the vet tech to make the appointment. Our cat had been slipping health wise and when we returned to town Friday, we found her totally blind. It was time.

As you can tell from her birth year, Kitty was old - we figure 19 years (I know the math doesn't make sense - but we thought she was 18 last year...) at her passing. (I was only 36 when we got her - a mere child!) Samantha was Amy's  9th birthday present - but she was already 6th months old by then. You see, Amy ever the softee, really wanted a kitten - but decided to adopt this beautiful black stray (with 4 white paws and a white beard) from the vet clinic. (This after a disastrous attempt at a kitten adoption when we discovered we had a boy kitty instead of the girl she wanted).

Samantha, was never a greatly affectionate cat. I believe that was due to her being mistreated as a kitten. Prior to our adoption, she lived in a cage at the vet clinic for several weeks. But she tolerated us quite well! And for some cats - that's saying a lot. Kitty was supremely mellow when compared to my first cat Bucko (RIP 1980-1993), who used to spring off my back and onto the shelf of my closet when I leaned over to put on my shoes.

Kitty left, Odie right - me in the middle

Samantha also got along quite well with our dogs. Most recently, she was queen over Odie, except when genetics took over and Odie chased her like the rodent hunter she is. If Odie was on my lap and Kitty decided that's where she wished to be - by golly, Kitty just walked on Odie and the dog skedaddled! The pecking order was set.

When we first moved to our present home, Kitty checked the whole thing out, pausing to hiss at herself in a mirror under the stairs. She also loved to sit by the back door waiting for a visit from the neighbor's cat, so she could pitch a fit.

Paul has been a trouper through the years, taking on the brunt of her care - food/poop scooping. Until recently she hasn't been to the vet for years - because she bit the vet, even when he tried to utilize a Plexiglas box to give her a shot. I guess she remembered those months of confinement as a stray...

When Kitty was much younger, she used to jump up on top of the cabinets in the kitchen (before our remodel made the cupboards taller), and lean on a stuffed wiener dog (before we got Odie) observing us safely from above when we entertained. Oh - she never liked any people but our family. She always knew the kids right away, even after they moved away.

It was always surprising when she would allow strangers to pet her. In her "golden" years she began staying on my footstool when friends would visit. If we were out of town, cat sitters rarely caught sight of her - and she would hiss at them if they did.

About a month ago she decided she needed a drink of my ice water...

When Paul and I returned from trips, Kitty made sure to let us know how angry she was at us - knocking over things on our dresser or tipping water glasses (or drink from them) over on my bed stand. She would often meow during the night the past couple years and walk on my head. Love those pets! She and Odie both slept with us at night. And oh those night I awoke to...if you're a cat owner you know the noise. Hairball! I'm pretty good at scampering out of bed to rush the cat to the tiled floor. (That I will not miss, along with the shedding)

I didn't sleep well last night - and today I keep thinking I see her sleek dark figure in the corner of my eye. After 19 years, I miss the old girl. Having pets is bittersweet - the end is so tough. Samantha you gave us many years of purring, companionship and stories.

We thank you! See you in the next life.

Downhill kitty

Our kitty is looking pretty old. I guess that's because she IS old. After all, Samantha (her real name, but somehow we've never called her that) was Amy's bday gift when she was in 3rd grade. So Amy would have been 9 and that makes Kitty 15. Yikes!

She's been in pretty good health until the past few months, when she's slipped. Her fur is matted and she walks gingerly. Poor old gal. She's been a good kitty really. As good as kitties can be anyways. Not evil like my first cat Bucko.

I got Bucko from the pound in Sioux Falls when I lived there for my first job. Bucko was a boy cat - although I did get him fixed. Regardless he's was always showing off his maleness. Climbing the curtains and leaping into high places. Just plain showing off.

Bucko pretty much hated all people except me. I think it was due to his brief stint in the joint (the pound). I loved him, and Paul tolerated him. He tolerated our kids by staying away from them. Bucko would wait until I bent over in my walk in the closet and he'd run and jump onto my back, launching himself onto the top shelf.

When we lived in Council Bluffs (as newlyweds) one night whilst I was taking a bath, Bucko decided to jump off the back of the toilet onto the top of the shower door frame. Unfortunately (for him - for me it was hilarious) he slipped, fell into the toilet which he flushed with the little legs on the way down. Good thing he didn't get sucked in!

Bucko also liked to bite. He'd lay on my chest while I read a book, rubbing his face on mine. Rub, rub, chomp! And it wasn't a love bite either. Pain!

Kitty has been much more mellow than that. She was a stray for the first few months of her life. We adopted her from the vet clinic where a lady was paying to board her since she'd found the stray that she couldn't keep due to allergies. We saved her life - and it's been a cushy one.

Kitty doesn't like vets. (Nor does she like most people - seems to be a theme with my cats) She chomped on Dr. Brus last time I had her in (5 or 6 years ago). I vowed then that she'd croak before I did that again. Well it's nearly time. For now, she's not in terrible pain and we'll keep babying her.

When Bucko died (he had health issues by age 13) I was such a basket case that I got a migraine and had to stay home from work. Paul buried him under a tree near 12 Mile Lake, while I lay on my bed crying. I think Odie will miss Kitty more than I will - especially since she'll be home alone. The two have had fun chasing each other around. I wish pets lived as long as humans!