Janey Way Memories

The Perfect Cat

At our house, we have the perfect cat. When we got her at age six weeks, she was a puff of white cotton with brown feet and tail and a little dark face: perfect Siamese markings. We proudly named her Sophie.
As she aged though, she lost some of her luster.
Her tail began to reflect feint white rings. One foot remained brown while another turned black and the others mottled.
When I took her to the SPCA for spaying, they noted “short hair/Siamese mix” on her medical record. Oh well, maybe she wasn’t so perfect.
However, she did retain her piercing blue eyes. She is smart too.
When she cleans herself, she goes to her water dish, dips her foot in it, and rubs it on her face and body to take a bath. We leave the heavy metal door to the garage ajar so she can get to her litter box, and when she needs to go, she sticks her foot into the crack, swipes the door open and runs through. At day break, when she is ready for breakfast, she jumps on the bed and talks to me, until I feed her. She runs our house.
She reminds me of another perfect cat I once owned on Janey Way. He came as a gift too.
One day, I went with my big sister to the house of a married couple she knew. We sat in their living room, drinking coffee, surrounded by a little of seal point Siamese kittens. They were so beautiful that I walked over and picked one up. It surprised me. It didn’t squirm or scratch or cry. It just purred.
Then its owner asked me, “Would you like to have him.” I said, “for sure.”
So, I took a perfect little Siamese cat home that day, wondering out loud, what my father would say. He loved the little animal. We named him Sinbad.
Sinbad grew to be a sleek and shiny feline. He made Janey Way his kingdom. Other cats, indeed other animals, walked a wide birth around him. If I saw him perched down at the corner of the street, I would yell “Sinbad,” and he soon came running to me.
One time, he got into a fight with a squirrel behind Dom Costamagna’s house. It caused his leg to become infected. Dad took him to the vet, at no small cost, and he soon returned to perfect health. Dad loved Sinbad.
Sadly though, we ultimately lost Sinbad. We let him out to play one night, and he never returned. We hoped someone just took him home with them, but you never know. He just disappeared.
These days, Sophie is our “perfect cat,” and Sinbad is a long lost, but treasured Janey Way memory.

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