Letters to Sammy: Crisis of Conscience

Dear Sammy,

Here we are, going into our second month without you. It’s gotten a little bit easier, though I still stop when I think I hear you jumping off the bathroom counter or opening up a cabinet drawer. There have been mornings when I thought I heard you, meowing to be fed. Those days, those mornings, were rough. Your dad has been through a couple of them as well; I can see that it bothers him, just by the look in his eyes. It bothers me, too. Then, there was what happened on Wednesday.

Wednesday morning, as I was walking to work, I decided that I would take a look around the local Petco, just to see what sort of canned cat foods they might have. It was just a spur of the moment sort of thing, nothing more. I entered the store and spotted the adoption spot near the front. In both kennels was a cat. The cat in the top kennel saw me, looked me in the face and meowed.

Of course, I had to walk over. I gave the cat a scratch. The cat nuzzled my fingers. I started to talk to the cat. The cat licked my fingers. I laughed. The cat began to play with my hair. Then, I looked at the placard on the front of the kennel.

She had your name, Sammy. It was then I had to fight the tears. Even worse? I had to fight the urge to take her home.

I wouldn’t mind having another cat. I just don’t know if the time is right.

The thing is that I’m not entirely sure that I’m ready to welcome a new family member. The urge is there, but it’s tempered by my ever present feelings of grief. I’m still grieving for you, Sammy. Although I can now look back on the good times and laugh, I still cry over you. I still miss you. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll always miss you.

But if I know you, you’d think I was stupid for wallowing in my depression. You’d do something to distract me. If we had adopted another cat and you were still here, I’m pretty sure that you’d have let the “young’un” know that you were in charge, then you would have been fine. I can’t help but think that you’d want us to save another kitty, give someone else a home.

You’d probably want us to carry on, move past this. You never did like it when either me or your dad was upset. That was just how you were.

It’s going to take me some time, but I hope I’ll open up to the idea of getting another cat. But not just yet.



P.S. If your dad spots a “we need to move so free cat to good home” ad on his work intranet and doesn’t jump, I may have yell at him. For reasons.

About Silverwynde

I'm a Transformers fan, Pokémon player, Brewers fan and all-out general nerd. I rescue abandoned Golett, collect as many Bumblebee decoys and figures as I can find and I've attended every BotCon since 1999. I'm also happily married to a fellow Transfan named Prime and we were both owned by a very intelligent half-Siamese cat, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on June 16, 2018. We still miss him. But we're now the acting staff of a Maine Coon kitty named Lulu, who pretty much rules the house. Not that we're complaining about that.
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