Sam was almost left behind. One chilly March day, after I first moved here to Michigan, I was feeling the lack of feline company in my life.  When Chuck and I went to MARL* (Michigan Animal Rescue League) shelter to adopt a cat, the furthest thing from my mind was adopting TWO.

I had already picked the cat I wanted (or did Squeaky pick me?) and we were leaving with her in my arms.  As we walked past the cage next to Squeaky's,  a gentle white paw reached through the wire and patted Chuck's sleeve. We hesitated and looked in; there was a sweet faced, white cat staring back at us with such a hopeful air.  Suddenly he opened his mouth, as if to plead his case, but no sound emerged;  the "silent meow".  How could we resist? 

Sam's feelings are easily hurt: a sharp "no!" and he gets  a worried look, stops whatever it is he's doing and looks so dejected and scared that usually the "no" turns to a cuddle and treat.  I suspect someone was cruel to him in his first "home". He remembers being turned away from the family he thought loved him - he's still afraid he's not loved, even after all these years with me.  Constant reassurance is the only thing that makes him content. Yes, Sam, you are loved.

Sam has been in my home and heart ever since.  He's about 14 now, a bit slower to jump and a little grumpy about being pounced on by Pepper, but still the gentle, loving cat we knew he would be from the start. His favorite sport is burrowing his nose in my hair at night-time and purring at full strength till we both fall asleep.