Goodbye Samantha

My kitty died tonight. My dad got her and her sister about 12 years ago. They're both pitch black. The only way we could tell them apart was Delilah had a few white hairs on her chest, and Samantha had a slightly thicker tail. The vet said she had a heart murmer, and to just make sure she doesn't get too excited. Dad kept her and her sister for a while. A couple years later, Doug and I had our first pair of kittens before we were married. They ended up dying of feline leukemia before they were a year old. At the time, Dad was with someone who didn't like cats much, so he brought the girls up for us to keep. They travelled from Binghamton to Plattsburgh, and then back to Binghamton when we moved back to the area. This past summer, Samantha was suddenly paralyzed in her back legs. We called the emergency vet, took her down about 9pm, and he kept her overnight. He told us she had an embolism, and the blot clot had lodged in the main vein that runs to the back legs. He put her on oxygen, gave her heparin, and said he'd call us if things were worse. If we didn't hear from him by noon, then things were ok. I don't think he expected her to make it. Well, she did, and stayed at the vet's office for a few more days. We brought her home, and she began to walk on the legs again. We were told to give her a baby aspirin every other day. Sometime this past fall, she had another one. We took her to the vet again, she rallied, and was put on a heart medication every day. In between vet visits, you'd have almost never known she had any leg problems. She was running around, jumping, being her usual self. The vets were amazed at how she recovered. About a month ago, it happened a third time, but this time it was only one leg that was affected. We gave her her medicine right away, and decided to see how she did at home overnight. By the morning she was much better, and again started gaining back use of her leg. Tonight, Doug went downstairs, saw her on the chair and pet her. When she didn't coo or wriggle into his hand, he knew she was gone. She looks like she went very peacefully in her sleep, or at least that's what I'm hoping just by the way she is curled up. I realized I don't have very many pictures of her at all, so I'm going to take a couple before she gets buried. She just looks like she's sleeping right now.

These are my memories of her:

• curling into my hair at my neck and shoulder when she was a kitten
• jumping onto my lap every time I went on the computer and was sitting in the computer chair
• when I moved to a laptop and the couch, she'd always sit on the back of the couch, purring inches away from my ear
• being pregnant with Daniel and having her lay on my huge belly when I slept on my side
• having her cuddle up to me at night by putting her paws on my ribs and laying half on me
• Doug complaining that she sat on his head in the middle of the night
• feeling how very soft she was
• calling her the "dumb blonde" even though she actually was the most courageous of all the cats
• watching her explore every inch of the house when we first moved in, while her big "tough" sister remained hiding
• listening to her yammer away the few times she went outside, and calling her cow kitty because of the way she grazed
• calling her "needful thing" as a nickname
• always knowing she would come jump on the bed when I crawled in, and hearing her purr as I went to sleep
• knowing if I put a hand out on the bed, she'd nuzzle her head into it
• seeing her come out of the bathroom with her head soaked in sparkly drops of water from drinking out of the drippy tub faucet
• calling her "soft lovey", Manthers, and Manther Panther
  

Doug's going to take her out to the grove and bury her tomorrow. I was petting her a few minutes ago, and kept thinking, "I don't want to stop petting her, because I know it will be the last time." Goodbye my love.