Lynx Thoughts

Dedicated this week, in remembrance of Sam.  The formal naming of the bridge she used to cross over from her cat tree to her food, and to her personal perches upon high for sleeping, watching, and rapt contemplation.

Forever it will be, as she is in spirit, a part of my home.

Sam entered my life about five years ago, through Fiona, who was a housemate at the time.  I didn’t see Sam for much of the first month or two, for she hid under the couch nearly nonstop, and would certainly hide if I came into the room.  Sam had not had an easy time at her former place of residence and she would only come out, tentatively, when the familiar face of Fiona was the only one in the room.

Over time, that changed.  The short way of saying it is I won her over.  With patience, openness, and love, along with some nice words in the secret cat language (which is French), she warmed up to me and to the world at large.  When Fiona moved out, she asked if I would like to keep Sam, and I wholeheartedly said yes.

Sam would run to greet me at the door when I came home.  She was a total winter lap and cuddle with you while you sleep cat (in the summer, too hot!).  She would hunt her toys at night, and bring them to me with a meow at 2am.  She enjoyed rolling around on the front stoop, and she loved romping around the backyard.  She stared through the window at the possum sitting rock still on the nearby fence.  She would hop upon my lap as I worked, and then would lie on the desk near me.  She loved rubbing her head all over shoes, and when I would get home from kung fu practice, I’d lay on the floor and she would come and nestle in the crook of my arm, head happily buried into my armpit.

Whenever I would pet her, she would meow, quite a bit.  At first, her meows sounded plaintiff.  I surmised it was a strategy from her previous household, where another cat would terrorize her.  With a plaintiff meow, the other cat wouldn’t come to investigate.  That too transformed.  She would meow much more playfully, joyously, as I pet her, motor running with intensity.

She was a wonderful cat.  She filled my life with feline grace and affection and delight and love.

Today, August the 10th, 2016, Sam crossed over the rainbow bridge.  I held her as she passed.  We had shared a glorious set of years together.

Goodbye my dear Sam.  You will be missed.

I can complete the poem I began yesterday:

and maybe,

just maybe

I can smile

as I imagine my cat

chasing that die

as it rolls across the sky