Samsi, the Easter kitten
Samsi is a gentle boy—probably the most tender little tomcat I have ever met. His tenderness has earned him the nickname “bunny,” which is often used. He is actually our Christmas tomcat, because he has been living with us since Christmas Eve 2002. We took him in from a nearby animal shelter after our 19-year-old Max passed away shortly before Christmas.
He has a timid and domestic nature and normally never stays out overnight, but usually sleeps in our bed all night.
During Holy Week in 2005, Samsi did not come home from his day trip on Monday as usual. At first, we attributed his absence overnight to the warm spring breeze. However, when he did not show up the following morning, we realized that something must have happened to prevent him from returning home.
He has a timid and domestic nature and normally never stays out overnight, but usually sleeps in our bed all night.
During Holy Week in 2005, Samsi did not come home from his day trip on Monday as usual. At first, we attributed his absence overnight to the warm spring breeze. However, when he did not show up the following morning, we realized that something must have happened to prevent him from returning home.
The following days followed the same pattern, yet I could not and would not accept that my beloved bunny was simply lost forever. When my wife and I set out to search for Samsi again on Easter Sunday, six days later, some of our neighbors declared us to be incorrigible cat lovers who simply couldn't understand that at some point, the time comes to accept the inevitable.
We searched the familiar paths again, calling his name in front of every house, every garage, and every barn. It was Easter, after all, and it was possible that Samsi had ended up in the house of a family who was away on Easter vacation. We called out with all our might and, close to despair, I suddenly heard a very quiet, completely frightened “meow” coming from a garage in the neighborhood. I had no doubt that it was Samsi's voice.
When no one answered my ringing at the apartment door, I thought about how to open the gate: spare keys with neighbors, fire department, locksmiths—all possibilities flashed through my mind. Linda, my wife, kept her cool and rang the doorbell of the house again. After a while, an elderly woman opened the door. Of course, she immediately ran back into the house and, after we had quickly told her our story, opened the garage door from the inside. She explained that the young family who lived in the house had indeed gone on vacation a week ago and that the gate had been locked ever since.
However, the “garage” turned out to be a completely overfilled storage room, almost a junk room, in which all kinds of museum-like objects lay scattered about.
When we entered, however, there was no sign of our kitten. Not even the slightest “meow” suggested that an animal could be hiding behind all the bizarre oddities. Only after a few seconds of complete silence did our beloved little friend make himself heard again.
We immediately began to clear all the objects and rubbish in the room from the right to the left side, because we suspected that Samsi was behind it. Other neighbors came by and watched our “madness” with discussion. After a good 30 minutes, when we were almost done, a completely distraught little animal—our Samsi—dashed past us and disappeared again behind the pile of junk we had just created. After all those days of being trapped, his fear of all the people standing around was far too great for him to approach us.
I realized that we couldn't succeed this way. After Linda had fetched the car and Samsi's food bowl from home, I asked all the neighbors who had gathered to leave the area. When complete silence finally prevailed, Samsi showed his white nose among all the junk. The food, the water, and my tender words took away his shyness after just a few moments, and he slowly but purposefully approached me. I stroked him, whispered to him in a familiar voice, gave him time to eat and drink, then took him gently in my arms and carried him to the car.
When we got home, our little animal was so exhausted that he slept almost continuously for the rest of Easter.
The moment of reunion after all those days of tears and despair was certainly one of the happiest moments of my life. Our bunny thus became the Easter Bunny against its will, and it has not spent a single night outdoors since.
April 2007
We searched the familiar paths again, calling his name in front of every house, every garage, and every barn. It was Easter, after all, and it was possible that Samsi had ended up in the house of a family who was away on Easter vacation. We called out with all our might and, close to despair, I suddenly heard a very quiet, completely frightened “meow” coming from a garage in the neighborhood. I had no doubt that it was Samsi's voice.
When no one answered my ringing at the apartment door, I thought about how to open the gate: spare keys with neighbors, fire department, locksmiths—all possibilities flashed through my mind. Linda, my wife, kept her cool and rang the doorbell of the house again. After a while, an elderly woman opened the door. Of course, she immediately ran back into the house and, after we had quickly told her our story, opened the garage door from the inside. She explained that the young family who lived in the house had indeed gone on vacation a week ago and that the gate had been locked ever since.
However, the “garage” turned out to be a completely overfilled storage room, almost a junk room, in which all kinds of museum-like objects lay scattered about.
When we entered, however, there was no sign of our kitten. Not even the slightest “meow” suggested that an animal could be hiding behind all the bizarre oddities. Only after a few seconds of complete silence did our beloved little friend make himself heard again.
We immediately began to clear all the objects and rubbish in the room from the right to the left side, because we suspected that Samsi was behind it. Other neighbors came by and watched our “madness” with discussion. After a good 30 minutes, when we were almost done, a completely distraught little animal—our Samsi—dashed past us and disappeared again behind the pile of junk we had just created. After all those days of being trapped, his fear of all the people standing around was far too great for him to approach us.
I realized that we couldn't succeed this way. After Linda had fetched the car and Samsi's food bowl from home, I asked all the neighbors who had gathered to leave the area. When complete silence finally prevailed, Samsi showed his white nose among all the junk. The food, the water, and my tender words took away his shyness after just a few moments, and he slowly but purposefully approached me. I stroked him, whispered to him in a familiar voice, gave him time to eat and drink, then took him gently in my arms and carried him to the car.
When we got home, our little animal was so exhausted that he slept almost continuously for the rest of Easter.
The moment of reunion after all those days of tears and despair was certainly one of the happiest moments of my life. Our bunny thus became the Easter Bunny against its will, and it has not spent a single night outdoors since.
April 2007