I inherited Sammy when he was two months old. Friends could not keep him, so he came home with me. He was a tiny kitten that turned into a 20-pound absolutely beautiful Tonkinese, with the heart of a playful kitten.
At that time, I had two older cats who wanted nothing to do with this little guy. So, one year later, he found a friend. I have no idea where he found her, but he hauled her over the wall in my backyard and she was here to stay. We named her Ginger.
Our vet thought Ginger to be about six weeks old when she appeared with Sam on our back patio – coal black with gold eyes. She has long fur, very short legs (may be part Munchkin) and when she walks in front of me, she looks like a moving dust mop.
Sammy taught Ginger how to be a cat – what the litter box was all about, how to groom herself, and I stepped in and taught them both the need for nail clipping and teeth brushing (neither was overjoyed, but they both tolerated the process). For 12 years, these two were almost attached. If one moved to another room, the other followed; where one was, you always knew the other was not far away.
Last May, Sammy was diagnosed with aggressive cancer, and we had to say goodbye. It was a very sad day when that happened.
Not long after, we adopted another cat, an older tortie named Jasmine. We still miss Sammy every day, but at least Ginger is not alone.
Story submitted by Linda from Chandler, Arizona.
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