“That cat’s pregnant!” I can still hear the stern tone in my mother-in-law’s voice as Samantha walked up to greet her. I denied it, saying that my neighbor who had found her was going to get her spayed. My mother-law, however, would hear none of it. She looked directly at Samantha, and with a wag of her winger, declared “you look pregnant!”, as though she were admonishing a wayward daughter. Samantha blinked in response.
The little black stray had shown up my doorstep about a month prior, with a kitten in tow. She had long, back fur, with gold eyes. A crumpled right ear told stories of a life spent outdoors. She was starved for both food and affection, gobbling up the food I set out, and immediately taking up residence on my lap. The kitten, which may have been hers, was more feral and aloof, accepting only food, and even then, with hesitation. I named the black cat Samantha, and the kitten Rascal. I knew there had to be a story as to how they showed up on my doorstep.
I found out that my next door neighbor, John, had brought Samantha and her kitten home from an apartment complex where he’d done some work. He and his wife had the pair for a few weeks, and were bottle feeding the kitten. He said they were going to keep the kitten inside and let Samantha be an outdoor neighborhood cat, after getting her spayed. I told him that I would help care for her.
Well, as fate would have it, my mother-law was right; Samantha was indeed pregnant, but I didn’t realize it until she started showing. I’d been attributing her voracious appetite to having been starved, when actually; she was eating for 2 or more. At this point, I knew that I would be keeping her and her kittens.
As the weeks passed, it was evident that Samantha’s kittens were growing inside of her. She seemed pretty content, and had developed her own little routine. She had also accepted Tiger, my other cat, and was slowly warming up to the rest of my family. I did notice, however, that Samantha seemed terrified of men; every time she would see my husband coming, she would run and hide, especially when he wore black shoes. I can only imagine what her life must have been like.
I had planned on making Samantha an indoor only cat, once her kittens were born. For now, however, she was allowed to go outside, as she didn’t wander far, and I wasn’t sure where she wanted to have her litter. I also did not know what to expect when the day arrived for the kittens to be born, as I had not entered the veterinary field yet. A Westie breeder friend told me what to expect and how to know if things weren’t going well. I also kept the number of the local emergency clinic handy.
On July 18, 1993, at 6am, I heard Samantha scratching feverishly at my front door. I set a bowl of cat food out then went back inside. The scratching continued, so I brought her inside, only to witness her attack Tiger, something completely out of character for her. I immediately scooped her up and put her back outside, so I could go console Tiger. Upon returning outside, I noticed that the front or my nightgown was damp from where I’d held Samantha, and I also remembered how feverishly she’d been purring. It was time, and I realized that Samantha wanted me there. I was about to witness a miracle…
I found the box I’d prepared for Samantha and put it my front step next to her. After nesting in the box, Samantha went into labor. Boots was the first to be born, and as I watched, it amazed me how she knew what to. A gray kitten soon followed. After awhile, Samantha, settled down to the business of nursing her two kittens; I thought she was done, so I went back to bed for a couple hours. Imagine my surprise when I came back out and found two more gray kittens, nursing! I brought my new little family inside, and set up an area in my kitchen, where Samantha could tend to her brood.
I named the kittens based mostly on their emerging personalities, with the exception of Boots. Wiggles was the most active, and the first to venture out. Dusty would hide in the corner of the box, like a little dustball. Trouble was originally named “Belly-up-to-the-Bar,” because she would always have her spot to nurse; but I decided to change that. Her new name has suited her well :)
Samantha’s kittens have grown into lovely cats and will be 14 this July, with the exception of Wiggles, who died at 6 years from kidney problems. Samantha will be 16 in May and often acts like a kitten. I like to think that her brood, as well as my other cats keeps her young. Although she is smaller than her offspring, they still back down when she swats or hisses at them, much like children receiving discipline. I’ve often said that Samantha personifies the expression “she who must be obeyed.”
I will always be grateful for this wayward black stray who walked into my life and into my heart. She not only gave me four beautiful kittens, but the opportunity to witness and be a part of the miracle of new life
Ellen 2/25/07
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