Arrrgh!!!

We're all suckers for animals. We would never think of hurting a pet or a stray.
There were endless pets at home, sometimes overlapping in their stays, and each thought it was a voting member of the family. So it's no surprise that my very first cat felt the same way. When I was fresh out of college and newly married, we bought a cross-eyed seal-point Siamese cat, and named him Jamar. He was the child we didn't have.

Jamar, like most Siamese cats, was very independent. He would choose when he wanted attention, and ignore you if you approached him at the wrong time. One of his favorite times to hit me up for attention was when I was trying to read the newspaper. I don't know how he did it, but he was able to lay on the very sentence I was ready to read.

Jamar saved my sister one day. She was alone, taking a nap in my home, when the stereo system started smoking. Jamar ran up and down her body to wake her. I came home to fire engines and a indifferent, haughty, and proud cat!

We lived on the second floor of an apartment building. There were four apartments which opened off the foyer. One day I was carrying laundry out the front door, and Jamar slipped out. Before I could set the laundry down and chase him, our next door neighbor opened his door and Jamar slipped through. The neighbor must have forgotten something, because he turned and shut the door, and my cat was in his apartment! I knocked on the door, and explained that they had my cat. It was touch and go for a moment. The neighbor didn't believe me, but Jamar came walking out while we stood talking at the door.

When I wanted Jamar, he could never be found. If I called him, and he was sitting near, but out of line of sight, he wouldn't answer. When you discovered him, you could read the message on his face: "Crazy person! I'm sitting right here! Why should I bother to respond?"

One day I wanted to heat water for tea. I turned the gas on, and the ignition started clicking. Jamar jumped up and lowered his head to see what was going on just as the pilot lit the gas. It singed his whiskers and I shrieked, thinking my cat was on fire. He flew off the counter and ran down the hallway to the bedroom. I soaked a washcloth and ran after him. I'm sure he figured he was in trouble, when all I wanted to do was make sure he was okay. He was squirreled away under the bed, and I had to sweet talk him to where I could touch him. He was fine, but he looked a bit odd until the singed whiskers grew out.

We have a black cat now, named "Ed." I suspect he might have a little Siamese in his make-up. I was working at the table in the living room, pinning quilt block pieces. He hopped up, checked things out and calmly laid right down in the middle of it. I needed to move a few things so he didn't get pinned.

Despite the fact that you have to adjust to them, ya gotta love a cat. There's nothing quite like having a cat curled up on you, purring away, or playing Lord Independent!