"... would smell as sweet".
This Shakespearean quote seems somehow so very appropriate to initiate this post with. And as you read along further, it will become soon clear why.
It has been a while ago since
Batcat was featured in my writing. And many of you, curiously enough, have recently inquired about his well being.
Thus I decided to dedicate yet another post to my faithful traveler through life and my partner in crime, my furry friend - having been my devoted companion for the last eight years.
In that time span, he has been called many names and each name made him into a certain personality, yet in my eyes he has always been the same jovial feline, brightening my days and making me smile.
Batcats real name is actually
Samson.
I named him that way when I collected him as a tiny, six weeks old kitten from a farm, some hundred miles north of where I lived. He screamed his lungs out the whole drive back home (and still detests being in a car). I contemplated many different names, wanting to keep the letter
S, as apparently cats names should be starting with one. I have no idea where I have heard that or if it is even true. Still, when the name
Samson entered my mind, I knew right away that it was the one, thus it was chosen - but come to think of it - never used.
My first serious boyfriend, with whom I acquired the cat named him
Daloon. As in
Da - Loon. Or
The Loon. Perhaps because his eyes as a kitten were at all times huge like saucers and he was always looking for trouble, defying anything that came in his way. Never giving up or giving in, already as a kitten proving he was a REAL cat. A fighter.
He refused to be confided in a cardboard box and already as a tiny little thing was roaming our apartment. When we tried to prevent him from entering an open staircase by blocking it with cardboard as well - afraid he might fall through the stairs and be injured - he found a way of climbing the narrow space between the stairs and the wall by pushing himself upwards on his little paws - an incredible accomplishment and sign of resilience and determination.
When the Irishman came into my life, he very quickly established that Daloon was no Loon, but a Superhero. To him he looked like a feline Batman and thus he named him
Batcat. This was when I started my blog and thus to everyone here my cat was known by this name.
The name Batact has however been abandoned for quiet a while now and another name has gained hold. My new family call him today
Sammy, a name instigated by the man I love and inspired by the original name; Samson.
Well, no matter the name, my devoted cat is my everything.
My baby and the one living, comforting soul that has been waiting for me in the dark house when I returned from work for all those years living on my own. The one who made my old house feel alive, when it was so quiet, deserted and still. That one living being that always stuck by my side when everyone else left me. The one into whose fur I cried bitter tears when I was feeling the loneliest I have have ever been...
And the one who I hugged when I was the happiest I have ever been as well.
These days, I am not the only one whose life has changed dramatically. Even
Sammy has undergone changes of major proportions.
He has been uprooted, relocated and furthermore been introduced to the
outside.
Being an inside cat his whole life, the outside to him is as overwhelming as it would be for the common man to fly into space.
Today Sammy is however a content cat. Just like me, being almost middle aged, he is starting all over again. And just like me, he has finally come
home - and in his case in more than just the abstract sense - I recently realized he was born on a farm only a stone throw away from where we live today.
How funny is that.
(All images in this post are of Sammy exploring and enjoying the surroundings of his new home, summer 2011)
