Fourteen years ago my life flashed before my eyes. Little did I know that my best friend would soon try to end my short life. Running down a never ending hall way, ankles bleeding, tears rolling down my cheeks, I was too young to die. Why was this happening to me? Samantha was my sister only hours before, and now she wanted to murder me in cold blood. Samantha was my cat, and I was three years old. In the early years, Samantha was a regular cat living the typical suburban cat lifestyle. She slept all day and enjoyed being rubbed on on her belly as she purred so softly. With her golden fur coat, she stood out from all the other neighborhood cats. Every once in a while, a dead bird would find its way to our door step. In a weird way, I always thought the dead animals she would bring us was her way of saying thanks for the love and care we gave her. I was too young at that time to understand that these tiny gifts that she brought to me were foreshadowing what would come later. In my little eyes, Samantha was the best cat and friend that any child could dream of having; but then things started to change. As the days passed and changed, so did Samantha’s characteristics that I loved so dearly. Her personality began to fade away from what I had known it to be. Instead of playing with the other cats in the neighborhood, Samantha began to display aggressive behavior and engage in cat fights. One morning she came home limping with cuts covering her face. I attempted to pet her, but she rejected my efforts with a hiss and a bite. As the tears rolled down my face, I could not figure out the reason she was acting this way. My mother hugged me as I continued to cry, still so confused. The next day I put some cat food in the bowl that I crafted for Sam at school. I called her name as I got on my knees and clapped like I always did. She simply lay on the floor motionless as if I were invisible. Samantha always came for me when I called her name, especially if she was being fed; but her attitude towards me showed indifference now. She lost weight and hair as her condition worsened. My furry friend became nonexistent in my life, and she soon would change forever. The Samantha I knew would never again return. She was small and fragile, seemingly a different cat than before. No longer did I attempt to pet that golden coat I once adored; it was pointless. I poured fresh food every day just hoping she would eat something and everything would return to normal. I dreamed every night about having the Samantha I once knew in my arms again, but it was hopeless. The day my life flashed before my eyes still remains etched on my mind. I was in my room minding my own business when Samantha came around the corner. Surprised to see her up and walking around, I kindly greeted her. She met my greeting with a hiss, and the cheerful grin on my face disappeared. Samantha chased me through my house as I screamed and cried for help. She bit my ankles and drew blood. Somehow, I reached my sisters room and jumped onto her bed. My sister knew something was wrong just by the look on my face, and my father heard us yelling and ran to our rescue. Seeing Samantha moving in for the kill, my father was shocked but not surprised due to her behavior the last few weeks. As she leaped toward the bed moving in for the kill, my father snatched her out of the air. My dear Samantha was taken away that day. The Veterinarian said that she somehow suffered from brain damage recently and was to be euthanized. What I learned that day is something that still sticks with me today. When trusting someone, everything feels more comfortable and secure, but I now know that one can never become too complacent in life or in a relationship. People change, and there are always extenuating circumstances that change the people or cats we love. Learning from my experience with Samantha, I move forward in my life, always on my toes, ready for the unexpected.