This is Simba. I visited Simba last weekend, when I braved icy roads to visit his human companion, Elsie.I must admit that I looked forward to seeing Simba again, too.
I owe him a debt of gratitude, for he convinced Elsie that I was an OK guy. She and I sat on her couch - this is when she lived 90 minutes south of here. Simba was a few feet away, and I clicked for him.
Simba came to the couch, got in my lap, and started purring. According to Elsie, he rarely reacted so positively to men. This planted the idea that I was a decent fellow. If Simba had been Jewish, instead of Siamese, he might have said I was a true mensch.
Simba is unique among Siamese of my acquaintance, in that he doesn't talk much. DJ, our mutual feline friend, is chattier than Simba. Elsie told me he once got caught in a closet, and she didn't know about it because he didn't cry out.
Anyone who has ever spent more than 5 minutes in a room with a Siamese cat know this is highly unusual.
Anyway, here's to you Simba! Have some catnip on me!
No comments:
Post a Comment