But I’m a pushover for a warm, fuzzy body and slightly wet nose. Growing up, we always had at least one dog and one, two – or four or five – cats. Occasionally there were hamsters, fish, a mynah bird named Sam and a pair of love birds.
My favorites were the cats. I love their independence and intelligence. And I’ve never had a cat who didn’t curl up with me when I was sick. I know dogs will do the same, but that’s what a dog does. Cats curl up with you because they want to. Cats never do anything they don’t want to do.
For as long as I can remember, we had a Siamese cat. Not the same one, of course, but we loved the breed. Talk about independent! These cats take the prize for arrogance and pride. They also are intensely loyal to their owners and are immensely entertaining.
For example, their voices are unmistakable. If you have ever heard a “Yaowwwl” from a Siamese, it’s a sound you won’t forget. We had one cat who we swore could talk. Well, he had one word down pat. He’d stand at the back door, glare at us and cry at the top of his lungs, “O-u-u-u-t-t-t!”
We had a particularly mischievous Siamese aptly named Trouble. He was always into something. Most times it was harmless, but there was the tragic tale of the love birds.
My sister had two love birds in a pretty hanging cage in her room. They were beautiful birds and she loved them. She kept the door closed because she didn’t want the cats near the birds. We tried to tell her they were safe because they were hanging in a cage four feet off the floor, but she didn’t trust the cats. Turns out, she was right.
One day, we heard a terrible clanging, accompanied by a “Yowwwl!” and frantic cries from the birds. My little brother ran to see what was going on. He quickly came tearing down the stairs, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Daddy, come quick. The bird is in Trouble - literally!”
The cat had snuck in and climbed up on a chest of drawers, where he calculated his leap to the cage. He was able to catch and dispatch one of the birds before being stopped. Tamara was inconsolable and Trouble was confused. He was only doing what cats do – and dadgumit, he had done it pretty well. Needless to say, Trouble was banned from Tamara’s room for the rest of his life.
My favorite Siamese growing up was named by my father. This cat was born with the two “bad” traits associated with the Siamese breed - severely crossed eyes and a short, crooked tail. Dad called her Bum Butt. And I swear she knew he was the one who saddled her with such an undignified name. She refused to stay in the same room with him. If she walked into a room and Dad was there, she’d sniff her haughty nose and stalk out. And if Dad happened to enter her domain, she’d twitch that strange tail and leave. It never failed.
I still have a Siamese. Sterling is a gorgeous silver-point with stunning blue eyes. I’ve had him since December 1991 - you do the math. He’s getting ancient, but he’s happy and fairly healthy. He’s begun to limp a little with arthritis but it doesn’t stop him from jumping into my lap when I’m on the sofa.
Now, Sterling has his quirks, too. For some reason, he took an immediate dislike to my youngest daughter. Even as a kitten, he would lie in wait for her, then leap out and attach himself to her with teeth and claws. It was the strangest thing. He only did it to Sarah.
Finally, I had had enough. I called his vet to ask about his behavior. Sterling was all of about eight weeks old, and had not yet been neutered. This was a new vet, who had only met me. She didn’t know the rest of the family.
“Sterling chases Sarah all over the house and attacks her all the time,” I told her. “Is there anything we can do to stop him from doing that?”
The vet paused, then asked, “Has Sarah been fixed?”
After a stunned second of silence, I cracked up and explained that Sarah was my daughter and no, she had not been fixed. Sterling went in for his procedure, but it never really solved his aversion for Sarah. He stopped biting and scratching her, but found another way to express his dislike – he’d pee on her stuff. And he still does, if Sarah forgets and leaves her stuff out where he can get to it.
I know my time with Sterling is nearing an end. He’s old and getting frail. But he’s happy and still sassy – when he wants to be. He’s loving and smart, and great company – when he wants to be.
I guess that is why I love cats so much. If they are affectionate, it is because they choose to be. There is no second-guessing how a cat feels about you. You always know where you stand with them. If only humans were as easy.
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