I've always had at least a pair of cats since I was a young girl, and they've usually been Siamese.  Siamese have diverse and strong personalities.

My Siamese usually have had names that began with "S" -- Sap and Sin (wealth and money in that language), Simon, Siri, Solomon and Shamar.  There have been other breeds mixed in there, but the Siamese have always been my favourites.

It's been my mission to debunk the unfortunate myth that Siamese are inherently mean and aloof animals.  Mine have always been loving, playful and smart, and I firmly believe that it's because of the way I've raised them.

One important method is to NEVER roughhouse with kittens using your hands.  Always use a toy, whether it's a piece of string or a store-bought toy, otherwise they'll associate your hands with a threat or something that's all right to tear apart.

This is the story of Siri.

Siri was a challenge from the beginning.  When I got her, I was living in Grand Forks, North Dakota, and she was in Fargo, 80 miles south.  I arrived at the house where she and her five siblings and parents lived, and I was told that the kittens hadn't been handled much and it might take some time to see them.  Oh no, I thought.

As it turned out, they'd never been handled AT ALL and were practically feral.  I waited for almost two hours until the mother decided it was feeding time and the kittens came out to eat.  I had wanted a male, but after chasing the kittens around and finally snatching up a female (the rest went back to their lair behind the kitchen cupboards), I decided I'd best take what I could get.  She rode home with me, snuggled all the way into the sleeve of my coat.

She never quite recovered.  The cat I had at home, Simon, took her under his wing and seemed to be the only being she could completely trust.  She didn't like to be held, but for some reason she loved being kissed on the forehead.  She would also purr while she ate!  It was the funniest sound I ever heard.

Siri survived the Great Flood of 1997 and several long distance moves.  Our last move to a small, northern Minnesota town would be her last.  She began to show signs of old age and finally kidney failure.  I had spoken with our vet here, a wonderful man with boundless empathy, and before I had gotten the words out of my mouth, he told me he'd be willing to come to our house to euthanize her.  I just didn't want her to spend her last moments being terrified going to his office.

It was the July 4th weekend, and my husband and I were heading to our family cabin.  Before we left, I asked God if he would please take Siri -- take her gently over the Rainbow Bridge while she was sleeping.

When we came home, I found her, curled up on her favourite cushion (actually the dog's bed) and I couldn't tell right away that she was gone, because she looked so peaceful.

I knew after 16 years of being afraid of nearly everything, she had joined Simon and was finally at peace.

© Lisa Foss  <lisafoss @ yahoo.com>

Lisa is a freelance graphic and website designer.  She lives in Ely, Minnesota, where she shares her 120-year old house with her photographer husband, Steve, their two dogs, Molly and Maggie, and two Siamese, Solomon and Shamar.


 

 


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  • Reduces fighting, injury and noise
  • Reduces spraying and smelling
  • Much less likely to wander and get lost
  • Safer from diseases like feline AIDS, mammary tumours and feline leukaemia
  • Reduces the number of unwanted kittens

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