We first got Samson when I was 13 years old. My mom's friend found him in her backyard a few days before Thanksgiving - cold, wet, and crying for his mommy who was nowhere to be found. When we went to visit her on Thanksgiving, we decided to take him home and nurse him back to health. I tucked him in my sweater to keep him out of the rain and off we went. He was very weak and small - too small to be away from his mommy - so we wanted to give him a name that symbolized strength. My mom suggested Hercules but being that he had such long silky fur, I thought Samson was more appropriate. We bathed him, fed him milk until he could eat proper kitten food, snuggled him and loved him, and before we knew it, he was a healthy, active, full-grown boy weighing almost 20 pounds!
And he was quite the smarty-pants, too. He figured out how to turn on the bathroom faucet whenever he wanted a fresh drink of water. And how to turn it off when he was done. He learned how to open doors and cabinets to find hidden treats he wasn't supposed to have. He was a funny eater who would eyeball my french fries and go for those over chicken any day. He loved going for car rides and sitting on top of our fish tank to dangle just one little paw into the water. But never once did he try to catch or hurt the fish. That's not to say he wasn't a hunter. He definitely was! Frogs, squirrels, birds ... you name it, he caught it. And left it in almost-perfect condition outside my bedroom window as a little "gift."
|Check out the knob. He figured out how to turn it on and off!|
|Hanging out in the fish tank before we added fish.|