Sad News About Samson

Any idea how old he was?

nine years for a feral cat is a loooooong time. good for him for surviving so long.

Samson was a friend, one who took a long time to get close to, and would let you know with a swipe when he'd had enough of brushing against your ankles: but he never drew his claws, and would trot off before hurting you.

The first time he let us scratch his head when we stopped to talk to him at night was a milestone, as if we had finally been accepted into the neighborhood; and his first meow to us was scratchy and short-breathed, but as good a welcome to the street as we could hope for. He let my wife and me take dozens of photos, and once he knew us, never failed to respond to our greeting. Our cats at home would smell him on our fingers and our jeans, and now they'll wonder too what has become of that unseen cousin who lived so close.

As for his age, we never knew: a kid from his side of Prospect Place once told me, "Cat's older than me, man, and I'm twenty-one, been here forever, you know?" These last days there was a strange premonition in the air, and a few days before he went I saw pigeons pecking at his food: deathwish with a healthy Samson, and now a sign of his last waning summer.

I wonder what we'll do now when we walk in front of his house, but one thing we know: it will always be Samson's place for us, as long as we live here.

I still miss Samson so much when I walk down Prospect Place. It isn't quite the same without him. I neutered him 5 years ago when I found him living in a backyard with other cats on the corner of Classon and Prospect Place. He eventually made his way down to the middle of the street where he found some caring souls that were able to take him under their wing. He had a wonderful life there with him. That boy definitely touched my soul. He will forever be missed.