Mamas Gone Crazy

Here I am with my cat Samantha, I called her Sam. It’s July, 1988, I am almost 13. At the time we were living in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, tiny town called Escanaba.

I loved cats, I think all together we had about 10-17 cats. Not all at once though. We have our very own “cat cemetery” to prove it along the side of our garage.

In this picture, Sam is pregnant. I remember the day she gave birth. Sam was pawing at my face in the early morning. Her constant meowing was as annoying as a rooster’s crow. I slowly got out of my bed, and Sam made her way into my closet and just laid down. And stared at me. And meowed. A lot.

What do you want Sam?

Meow. Meow. Meow….times 30.

She got up again, moved her way down the hallway, she kept meowing and looking back at me to make sure I was following her. We had a built-in cabinet/dresser drawer in our hallway, it was pretty convienent and nice, wish we had one in my house now. Anyways, for some reason, the bottom drawer was pulled out and there were towels in it. Sam slowly made her way in the drawer and laid down.

What are you doing Sam?!

More pitiful meows and looks of agony from Sam.

I went downstairs and Sam followed. Made my way into the kitchen and suddenly, more intense, shrieking meows from Sam. And right there on our kitchen floor, Sam birthed 4 kittens. It was the most amazing sight I’d ever seen. She cleaned them up and gobbled up the “afterbirth”. Which was fascinating and disturbing at the same time.

I found a box, placed towels in them and led Sam to carry her kittens and to place them in the box. As she was settled in her “room”, I noticed that one of the kittens was not there. I kept asking Sam where it was as if she would respond to me with a witty remark of, “oh that one…he’s in time out already!” Then I saw a tiny little tail sticking out from under her. I moved her to where I could grab the kitten from underneath her.

You sat on your baby Sam! And it died!

I was so upset. I called my mom at work, whom was a nurse at the time, to first tell her the news of us being the proud owners of four new kittens, but, also telling her that one of them didn’t make it. I remember sitting on my moms bed, sobbing uncontrollably with the little kitten in my hand. Literally that tiny kitten was in the palm of my little hand. My mom was very sad and felt sorry for me. My mom told me that it was probably sick and that Sam knew it was, and that’s why she didn’t take care of it. I’m sure after that, one of my brothers stuck it in a box and buried it with all of our other deceased cats.

After calming my tears, I stayed by Sam and her kittens all day long. One was all white, a girl, I named her Sugar. The other was also all white and a boy, his name was Salt. And the third was brown and black, a boy, his name was Pepper. I was the only person that Sam allowed to be near or hold her kittens, everyone else, she hissed at. I realized that Sam really wanted me to be a part of her birthing the kittens. And I’m so glad that I got to see that.

My mom said we couldn’t keep all of them. So, the die-hard lover of cats that I was, I moved them all into my room. Litter box and all. The smell was horrid. But, I had my cats with me. But, it only took me a few days to realize that it was just as much torture for the cats than for me to be confined into one tiny bedroom. So, eventually we gave all of the kittens away. But, Sam stayed with us. She was a good cat to have. We had to give her away before we moved to CO a year later. But, she was left in good company.