I’m not Sassy or Finicky, I’m “Sammy”..

Day 1

Okay…I'm full figured. I love to eat. I can't help it. I also like to watch TV, sleep, enjoy the sunshine and watch the neighbors. Not a real active lifestyle but it works for me. My name is "Sammy" and I don't know what that means. I am often called other names as well such as "Sam Wham", "Buddy Boy", "Buddy", and "Pain in the Rear". I like to be petted but only in certain spots. Touch me in the wrong spot and something inside me just snaps and I might just bite you. I don't know what gets into me sometimes. It's like I have not control over my body. Later, I am sort of sorry. Not that I would tell anyone so.

Day 2

I like my life. Most of the time. I'm a 10 year old Maine Coon (well, I look like a Maine Coon" but maybe I'm not 100%). I was found in a barn and had that darn Herpes virus. I had runny eyes, sneezing, and nasal discharge. Very annoying. That is where my cat parent found me. I was really sick. I think they call it "Feline Upper Respiratory Tract Disease" Well, to make a long story short, I got taken to the vet who was very kind. They recommended antibiotics, which did not taste very good but made me feel better. I didn't want to eat because I couldn't smell my food. My cat parent was very smart, they cleaned my nose out, cleaned my eyes, heated up my food to make it "smelly" and so….I started to eat. As I lucked out (luck??, sometimes I am not so sure), I was adopted by very nice people (as people go). I say maybe lucky because as "luck" had it, my main new pet parent was a vet student (and the other a vet). I also say maybe good because I got prodded a lot. Look in my mouth, look in my ears, listen to my heart, feel my belly, and generally mess up my hair and annoy me. You get the picture? I used to think…why me? Why couldn't I have a normal pet parent? Every day when she came home from vet school classes, I was prodded and examined to see if I might have the "disease du jour." What do you call it when someone thinks you might have every disease they read about….we cats called those people "Hypocatriacs".

Well, anyway..that was a few years ago and she is out of school now and there is no so much prodding now.

Day 3

Every morning starts off the same. Let me explain a little about my day. My cat parent gets up at about 6:45 am. My day starts about 6 am. I start of with a small stretch at about 5:45 and eventually by gastric juices get to a rumbling and I get on my paws around 6. I need a little nourishment. After all, I have a relatively full figure to maintain. I then go to my pet parent for a little "Wake-up call". First, I start with a very subtle walk across the body which to be honest is overrated by other cats. It doesn't usually work for me and I have to go to something a little more sophisticated. I step up the input to some strutting and prancing around the bed and intersperse a few meows and head butts. My cat parent often then uses one of my alternative names such as "Pain in the rear". They often follow this with some other words that I don't understand but do seem unfavorable but if I really persist…that body rises and gives me my precious. Have you seen Lord of the Rings? Do you know how the ring has powers and Gallum wants the "precious"? You have to say it just right too…."ppppreeecccious". Anyway, I want my "precious". I can't think about anything else. I want my precious. In my case, precious = Fancy Feast. And not just any flavor. If you open a can with meat chunks and gravy, I like the gravy. Don't always expect me to eat the chunks. Well, I gotta stop my blog and take a little cat nap. All this talk of food, I am getting a little hungry. I think I'll be dreaming of my preeeeciousssss…..szzzzzzzz.

Day 7

I wish my cat parents were a little more intuitive. This is a typical morning with my male cat parent. As part of my morning ritual, I send out messages as I rub up against his legs delivering my message of salmon, ocean whitefish, turkey, chicken. Often, they don't get it. He thinks if I ate it yesterday, I will eat it today. That's not how it works. Nothing gets his goat more than when I walk away from my breakfast. Then he says something I don't understand and then eventually he bends down to peak again in the cat food cabinet. I rub up against him some more, send some more messages…. Salmon….I want salmon…..saaaalllmon…. He may or may not get it this time. Eventually he gets it. But he is often quite annoyed and the "good boy" often has a slightly different tone than his normal good boy. Once I get the right precious, I love it. I am so excited. Yummmmm, yummmm, yummmmm.


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