My buddy, Sammy

A lot of people blog about their animals. I don’t have any, haven’t for years. But I used to have pets, mostly cats. And there was one particular cat that stands out amongst the rest.

His name was Sammy. His coat was slightly longer than a short-haired cat’s. It had a sheen to it that went from silver to gray to almost black. He was slightly long in the nose, kinda like a Siamese cat. AND he had personality galore.

He was a stubborn boy. When he was particularly naughty I would stand nose-to-nose with him and we’d have a staredown. When he lost one of those it was done grudgingly.

Like all cats he figured nothing, especially food, was off-limits for him. I know he got a belly-ache the time he ate the bread dough. Never stopped him from trying to get into more, though.

One time my parents were watching him, don’t know if I was on vacation or what. Now breakfast was not a very formal affair at my parents place, especially on the weekend. On Friday they’d go out and buy doughnuts, Twinkies, King Dons, all that kind of stuff. Then they’d leave it in a paper grocery sack on the kitchen floor so everyone could help him or herself.

It just so happened that the box of Twinkies had been opened and one had been eaten. That meant there were eleven left in the box. The first person that got up Saturday morning found the other eleven on the floor. There was one bite out of every one.
It had to be Sammy. He could smell it and it smelled good. But the taste of that plastic wrapping was more than he could handle. I know the family was probably ticked about losing those Twinkies, but the laughs we’ve had over it since then were worth it.