Alas Poor Sam

Sam the cat passed away Wednesday evening.  He was 15.

Although he was very shy when he first came to live with us, he was also very loyal and loved to cuddle.  He was always there to curl up in my lap whenever I was sad or lonely or just frustrated, and his presence was a balm during those years of George's decline.  He opened up considerably after we moved to Knoxville.  He loved sitting on the sofa with George's caregivers, and he missed them when they were gone.  He was a sweet, patient, lovely cat who would often greet visitors looking for a little affection.

I spent a lot of time with him these last few days.  He stopped eating Friday morning, but I was out most of the day and didn't really notice until evening. Saturday he was weak and having difficulty breathing and I wrangled an emergency appointment with his vet, where he was immediately put on oxygen and a large amount of built up fluid was removed from his chest.  I was shocked. He spent the weekend in the ER, where we learned he had lymphoma, and I authorized the first chemo treatment, hoping we could turn things around.  I visited him there and brought him home on Monday.  The tumor was too large, he was old, and too sick.  He had suffered with diabetes for years.  This time it was my turn to sit with him.

Moisés (on the right above) and I will miss him.  But if there is a kitty heaven, I am sure he is there, basking in the sun.