Sammy

Most of you know I spent the greater part of my childhood years in the Caribbean, growing up on St. Croix in the Virgin Islands

Before moving there, the only pet we had was my older sister’s horse, Cucuyo, when we lived in Guantanamo Bay – just prior to settling in St. Croix. In fact I remember the first time I ever saw a cat – when I was eight years old. 

I’d walked over the hill to play with the neighbor girl who was my age. She had two Doberman pincers that scared me half to death, and a couple of stray cats that lived in a shed out behind their house that fascinated me.

The mother cat had a litter of kittens in the shed, and we four girls (the two neighbor girls, my sister, Patty and I) pulled the kittens out of the shed to play with them.

Being a nurturing mother type from birth, I was so excited to be able to play with these little babies (though I am ashamed to say they weren’t as excited about it as I!) 

But in no time at all my face started puffing up and my eyes started to swell shut, so I thought it best to go home – quickly! 


My mother took one look at me and asked if I’d been around any cats. I thought she must be amazingly psychic! 

But in reality it’s just that she and my dad were both incredibly allergic, so it was a natural leap for her. 


My great bubble burst, and eventually, my grossly swollen face and angry red eyes returned to their normal state.


Out came the Benedryl and to my dismay, my mother told me never to go near those baby kitties again.

In future visits, oh, how I longed to venture into the realm of the dusty, hazard of clutter in search of life-threatening fur balls.

Well, in spite of my parents’ allergies, we somehow managed to become owners or caretakers or co-inhabitants of enough animals to fill our own ark over the years.

Shortly after we moved there, we got our first horse. Bilbo Baggins, we named him, though he looked less hobbit-like than any creature could. He was old and sway backed with his ribs and hip bones sticking out. 

My dad had been on his way home from town when he was flagged down along the way by Mrs. Blayden. 


She was a woman who was just a few years away from being the crazy cat lady.  


Now she and a black man he didn't know were standing in the middle of the road. The elderly man owned an equally elderly cart horse who needed a new home as the man had to move into town. Mrs Blayden, a fiesty British woman, told him my dad had a lot of kids and she bet he’d just love to have a pony and cart. 

So they waited by the side of the narrow country road until my dad came driving by and they flagged him down.

And the next weekend, Bilbo Baggins came to live at our house. Other horses, Aragorn, Mirage, Celeborn, and Lothlorian, all followed in fairly quick succession, as did Galahad, Big T’ing and Arriba later. 

One Christmas I even brought home cranky, cantankerous Willard – the meanest, nastiest horse on the island.


I couldn’t resist when his heartbroken owner (a fellow 7th-grader) left the island for good without finding anyone who would take the mean, old nag.   How could I help but solve their problem?

So I told him to tie the horse out in a green field of grass and leave him lots of buckets of water.  


I got up before the sun on Christmas morning and walked the mile and a half to where Willard was tied out in a field of grass and brought him home as a Christmas gift for my sister, Patty. How could my parents say no to a gift? Especially if the owner had moved back to the states?

When we moved to a new, bigger house next to the yacht club, the house came with two dogs (Jane and Casha) and two cats (Clyde and Claude.) Clyde and Claude were soon followed by other cats who showed up on their own.

Stranger, a sleek, slender black and white cat just showed up in our kitchen cupboard one day. Gladys did too, although she was a wild thing and only came home long enough to eat her fill and then would be off again. 

When my dad remarried after my mom’s death, the new step-mom brought a son and a daughter and an ancient, mangey, toothless calico named Mama Coo who also joined our menagerie as well.

Another time some men in a pickup truck showed up at our house with a Styrofoam cooler in the back. 


Inside sand and water covered a dozen or so sea turtle eggs. They’d inadvertently been dug up on the west end of the island where some construction was going on.

As the workers pondered the dilemma of what to do with them, someone mentioned this Carson guy who lived out on East End and had lots of kids who loved animals. And thus we became recipients of a nest full of sea turtle eggs.

Against all odds, at least half of the eggs hatched and we had an aquarium full of baby sea turtles. We kept them and fed them and played with them, both in their aquarium and later down at the beach in front of our house. 


We’d take them for swims in the ocean, bringing them back to the aquarium when we were done. 

When they grew too large for our aquarium it broke my heart to take them down to the beach for the last time and then let them go when we were done playing and watch them swim out to sea. I cried and learned my first lesson of loving and letting go.

We also had a pet mongoose. We’d caught his pregnant mother in a safe animal trap and kept her in a large cage. When she gave birth, we raised the baby to be tame and let her go. 


I can’t recall that he had a name, but he became best friends with Stranger, the black and white cat who’d adopted us previously. The two were inseperable, and the mongoose never ceased to entertain.

But by far the funniest pet who adopted us was Sammy, a scrawny, wiry, feisty brindled mutt who just showed up one day. My dad tried to put his foot down this time. But Sammy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He just moved in anyway. 


My dad even drove him a couple of miles down the road and dropped him off once, hoping he’d find another family to love. But Sammy had already given his heart to those kids out by the yacht club, and he always found his way back home to us.

Sammy was a real islander; a tough, ingenious, never-take-no-for-an-answer kind of guy. He was a lover, not a fighter, but could defend his ground if need be. 


But most of all, he loved to be the center of attention. He loved to dance in circles and bark for attention, or welcome the sailboats coming in to dock at the yacht club. He loved swimming in the pool at the neighboring Fairleigh Dickenson University Laboratory – much to their caretaker’s dismay. But more than anything else, he loved chasing birds.

Every time a bird landed on our balcony or down in the yard, he was after it in a flash. But the little banana birds and sparrows were small fry to him. Chasing pelicans was his real passion. As they flew in low across the shallows of the bay, scanning the waters for fish, Sammy would run along the beach parallel to them, hoping they’d dive into the water. And when they did, the scrawny, hyper little dog would take a flying leap into the water and try to get to them.

Of course, the pelicans never dove in close enough for him to get to them. So he discovered if he ran along the dock at the yacht club, instead of parallel to the beach, he could get closer to them as they flew overhead. 


He would run and bark and threaten and then have to come to a stop at the end of the dock as the pelican flew on, unaware of the fact that he’d just broken Sammy’s heart. And the poor dog would tuck his tail between his legs, hang his head, and slowly return to the beach.

Well, one day Sammy was chasing pelicans with a vengeance. Along the beach, then out along the dock, then along the beach again. But the pelicans seemed to be oblivious to his efforts. Finally one flew along parallel to the dock, looking for the small fry that swam in schools around the peir. As it neared the end of the dock, the pelican apparently found what he’d been searching for. He flew up into the air, then folded his wings and dove head first into the water with a splash!

I’d given up watching Sammy and was surprised to hear a second splash immediately after the first. I quickly looked up. 


Determined little Sammy had seen his chance and seized the day. In a split moment decision, he leapt from the end of the dock, splashing down just feet from where the pelican had disappeared.

He began swimming in small circles, knowing that pelican had to come back up somewhere soon! And sure enough, it surfaced right in front of him, its gulled filled with food. And before the startled bird had a chance to take off, Sammy dog paddled over and grabbed the poor pelican by the bill, still thrashing about in his best, excited dog-paddle stroke

Poor Sammy had spent all of his time and energy trying to catch a bird, but had obviously not thought beyond that. So here he was, dog-paddling in circles, holding a pelican almost as big as himself that was not at all pleased about being grabbed by his beak while he ate his dinner!

In his excitement, Sammy decided he had to let the whole world know he’d finally done it! He’d finally caught himself a pelican! 


So, longing to share his victory with the entire world, Sammy started barking at the top of his lungs. And in that split second decision to show off, he’d let go of the trophy.

The startled pelican took advantage of Sammy’s grab for glory and flapped his broad wings once, twice, three times…and he took off to freedom.

Sammy never again caught a pelican – but not for lack of effort. And we both learned a good lesson that day: He who toots his own horn usually doesn’t get to take a victory lap.

Wise men store up knowledge,
but the mouth of a fool invites ruin.

Proverbs 10:14

A prudent man keeps his knowledge to himself,

but the heart of fools blurts out folly.


Proverbs 12:23

A fool finds no pleasure in understanding

but delights in airing his own opinions.

Proverbs 18:2