Sharing Sammy with Lydia.

A mass of contradictions, Samantha was the first pet you lost. She was 10 and you weren't even 2. She was very patient with you while you pulled her tail and tried to pick her up. And you loved her and called her "Mantha." Here are some of Mommy's recollections about her best friend who was born with health problems, but who lived well beyond the years the doctors said she would.

Samantha was:
Silent meows but noisy purrs that sounded underwater.
Poofy tails meaning I'm happy but walking at you sideways meant I'm mad.
Trying to kill Daddy when he first moved in but always enjoying company.
Chewing your hand after you showered and licking plastic bags.
Jumping straight up 6 feet high and a patience greater than a saint.
Mousing in the farmhouse and ruling the roost wherever we hung our hat.
Long sharp claws in the back and dainty feet in the front with one tiny claw that hurt as she kneeded you for what seemed like hours.
Her finiky nature toward all cat foods but her great love of Doritos.
A heart too tiny to keep her healthy, but big enough to house all the love in the world.