Sammy the Mighty Guardian Warrior Cat

Living in the wild country in Wyoming the outdoors are full of perils. We accept these perils in return, nature gifts us with great beauty. The further from town you lived, the greater the risk of running into one of nature's problems and vice-versa. My family was living in a small subdivision about eight miles outside of town. Our home was located right near the fringe of the development, that was adjacent to BLM land. A small creek ran through the BLM land providing water to a variety of wildlife. There was always plenty of antelope to see grazing on the vast prairie when looking out my kitchen window.

It was a beautiful late spring day, my three daughters were rambunctiously playing on their swing set, "pirate ship," in the backyard. My ferocious guard cat, Sammy, was on the deck with me as I was planting some flowers. I was up and down off the deck to the flower beds. I leaned the shovel by the backdoor when I hear the phone ring. When I come outside less than two minutes later from answering the phone, my daughters are upset. All three disgruntled little girls were standing on the platform of the tower section of the swingset.

“Mama, Sammy is being a meany,” the youngest complains.

“Yeah, Mama he is being a real butthole. He chased us up the tower,” my middle daughter pipes in.

“Well, I am here now come off the tower. Sammy won’t bother you,” I told my girls.

Sammy had a thing with herding the girls like they were his kittens. He would charge them, nipping their feet and ankles, cuffing their feet. He did this the same way a mother cat manages her older kittens. The only time I had ever seen him herd the children was at night. He did not like them to come out of their bedroom after lights out. I finally got Sammy trained to understand the girls were allowed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. However, if they're in the hall too long, he would herd them back into their room and to bed. Kittens need their sleep.

Sammy was a vicious tomcat who ruled the neighborhood. That cat found taunting and fighting dogs amusing. His little ears looked like lace on the edges they were so torn up from fighting dogs and cats alike. Sammy’s had a weakness, his family. He had been known to chase neighbor kids on the command of his "kittens" or attack anyone he deemed a threat to his family. As far as Sammy was concerned, he was the guardian warrior of the house.

The girls were climbing down. Sammy charges them, herding them back up the tower, swiping at them with his claws frantically.

“It has happened, Sammy has gone mad. He has the hantavirus, 'tis the new plague, from all the mice heads he has eaten. Now, what unearthly tortures shall befall us as we are sentenced to our tower, like our queen Anne Boleyn,” my oldest makes a fake swooning motion.

“Oh, for the love of the God…” I stop mid-sentence. I could see why Sammy was herding the girls onto the tower. There was a huge rattlesnake in the yard, just a few feet from where his "kittens" were playing. Sammy was circling the snake making erratic leaps and more noise than I have ever heard him make.

“Girls call Sammy!” I command as I grabbed the shovel off the deck.

I could hear their little voices calling, “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…” that good cat went to protect his children first, when hearing them call his name, abandoning the snake momentarily.

As soon a Sammy was out of the way, I threw that shovel like a javelin. I killed that snake. I have been at war with rattlesnakes for years, thanks to Sammy cat that rattlesnake didn’t hurt any little girls or myself that day.

The slaying of the rattlesnake lives on as a family tribute to celebrate the memory of a guardian warrior, Sammy.