Then there was Samantha – who put to rest all the lore about cats.
Samantha was a tortoise shell cat I had foisted upon me by stage partner Morgan LeFey (no doubt as retribution for the great difficulty I had with our dance number “The Persuasion”).
I got to sing these yummilicious lyrics:
Masses and masses of gummy molasses!
Fudge by the van!
Fresh marzipan!
(I also wonder if, after struggling with a ponderous lift during rehearsal, my remarking on her seeming growing weight may have added to the rancor?)
Anyway, I suckered into taking custody of a wayward kitten.
From day one, Samantha (“Bewitched” was big than) was on odd bird, er, kitty.
One evening, during the eleven o’clock noise there arose such a clatter that I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. There, prancing down the hall, head held high with pride, was a very, very, dirty Samantha. It seems I had forgotten to let her back in from the yard, so she had found her way up to the roof top and attempted to climb down the fireplace chimney. Since there really were no climbing holds, what you really had was one determined cat, in free fall, clawing at the brick all the down.
Now the flue probably had never seen a brush and the living room looked like a scene from DR MS’s “Mary Poopins”. There was soot everywhere! But Samantha seem quite pleased with herself; henceforth, she never need again bother humans to gain reentry to her abode. From that day forward, Samantha always did her Santa bit to get back inside. (After awhile the chimney was clean, and, needless to say, we built no future fires.) Now I must say, our guests for Bridge one evening were somewhat taken aback when Samantha made her entrance! “Did that cat just come down the chimney!!!!!”
Now Samantha had never heard about the fact that cats like to give birth in solitude.
We were moving from San Diego CA to Newport RI and I had wife, three pre-schools, and a very pregnant Samantha in tow. On our first night out we stayed the evening with friends in Westminster CA I awoke early in the morning with this strange sensation around my toes. It seems Samantha had crawled under the covers and delivered her litter of six at my feet and one of the kittens had mistaken my toe for a teat!
The next day we all piled in my brand new Opal station wagon and started the journey across country. Samantha was not too pleased to have to lie in the back with a bunch of hungry kittens, and she kept picking them up and trying to throw them out of the car window!
This cross-country trek prepared me well for the last cross-country sojourn with only Woody and five dogs.
In Newport, we rented a lovely old three-story house in downtown – and there was no exposed flue on the roof for Samantha to scurry down; however, the undauntable Samantha did find a way to climb up on a porch roof, then jump into a large maple tree from whence she was able to leap onto the window sill of our second story bedroom window and insistently meow to be let back in.
Samantha apparently grew tired of Newport and set off to find other roofs to scale.
Der Brucer (who as a result of having Samantha curled up on his shoulder every night did develop a real nasty allergies to cats that took years to abate)
