Sanpete

This is Sanpete, my cat. He found me on a cold November day in 2010. Ethan and I were walking to Ephraim Cemetery for Kenna Sorenson Kattelman's interment. In passing the abandoned motel on Main St, I heard the wee cry of a kitten calling out to us, a tiny grey one crouched under a roll of carpet. When we stopped, he came running and rolled around at my feet, purring all the while. Then I noticed his mouth was torn open at the corner and hanging agape with dried blood caked to his fur. We didn't know what to do with the wretched little thing, but we had to do something!

When we reached the cemetery, we gathered with the friends and family who had come to honor Kenna's life. Also in attendance, I believe there was a white owl in one of the giant pines that line the plots. Mara was there, and when we mentioned the kitten, she insisted that she would take us back to get him. We decided it was also a sign, since Kenna always kept cats and loved kittens. When we pulled-up to the motel and called for him, he came running. I wrapped him in a towel and we took him back to the house where he ate some leftover Thanksgiving turkey and slurped noisily at a bowl of water. I had to give him three baths, despite his protests, because he smelled so bad. But he didn't mind getting dried off with the hairdryer. We cleaned his mouth area the best we could, but it obviously needed medical attention. He curled up next to me and slept soundly that first night in the blue room.

So, to make a long story shorter, I named him Sanpete. He spent a month at the veterinarian's clinic and then I adopted him. Now he is a giant tomcat with lots of idiosyncrasies. He is kind of naughty, but I adore him anyway and he brings me pleasure everyday. We take him to Ephraim with us to keep the mice away and he gets extra frisky because he obviously enjoys being there. As do we.