The cat is a puzzle for which there is no solution. --Hazel Nicholson
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"Princess" Flower,
a very special Siamese cat--her story
Born
in March of 1982, Flower's life started out in a rather amusing
way.
Sarah, my cousin, was having labor pains and knew it was time to leave for the hospital. Rosa, Flower's mom, was very much in heat. Sarah had already talked with the owner of a very handsome young Siamese male about breeding Rosa. As Sarah and husband Doug rushed out the door, they grabbed Rosa and literally dropped her off to meet her "date". Tyler, Sarah's son, was born just a few hours later, and Flower about nine weeks later. Her name had already been chosen.
The only female in a litter of four, Flower knew she was something special from the beginning. Always the leader, she was the first out of the cardboard box and the first to get into trouble. And it was her brothers who always got caught! Sarah was too busy with her own new baby to teach any of the kittens many manners, and Flower learned quickly who was in charge--she was! As young as four weeks old, she developed what I always called her bottle brush tail and she used it to her advantage hundreds of times. With her tail then not much more than three inches long, she was able to make it bristle to a width of one inch! In later years, she could make it bristle almost three inches wide and she did so anytime she was excited, happy or just up to no darned good. All happened often.
She came to live with us when she was a little over six weeks old. I had two older cats and didn't know a lot about proper cat introductions. We had intended to put Flower in a room by herself for a few days, but stupidly didn't have a carrier and tried to bring her into the house cradled in our proud and loving arms. (This was our first experience with "cradling" Flower!) Flower immediately flew, almost like a firecracker, out of our arms, raced right up to the two resident cats, widened her tiny legs, blew up her tail to its fullest capacity, and hissed in their faces. She then promptly took off, with that little bushy tail straight up in the air, to explore (and take over) her new surroundings while my flabbergasted old-timers started fighting among themselves! Flower never did give either of them much heed.
When we went to bed that night, we tried shutting her in our bathroom. After about ten minutes of the craziest noises we had ever heard, we thought we needed to check out the situation and perhaps think up something else. To our astonishment, when we opened the bathroom door (Flower "flew" out!), she had in just ten minutes time pulled up the carpet, pulled down all the towels and completely unrolled the toilet paper.
I don't remember where she ended up that night, but I do recall trying to shut her out of our bedroom. Besides attempting to climb the door several times, she also managed to pull the hall carpeting out from under the metal strip that held it to the floor. Remember, this was about a seven week old kitten! We learned quickly that you didn't shut Flower in and you didn't shut Flower out and that there weren't many alternatives in-between. Flower, ever the flying squirrel, would get herself up on top of our bedroom curtain rods and from up there, at 3 o'clock in the morning, leap into the middle of our bed, laugh heartily, and tear out of the room. We didn't sleep much the first six months.
We had fully intended for Flower to become a mom, but Flower had other ideas and put off coming into heat until she was almost 14 months old. At 4 1/2 pounds, the vet told us she would need to have a C-section and her "date" should be small. Not knowing any small stud Siamese males and not wanting to put Flower through surgery, we soon had her spayed. I think Flower was grateful and to this day, I have never been a "mom" to kittens.
I don't remember much about the next several years, but I do recall that Flower's beauty, spirit and incredible charm melted ice in the hearts of many non-cat loving friends, several of whom acquired cats themselves after being won over by her conspiring ways, sparkling eyes, endearing purr and that fabulous bottle brush tail.
Flower tolerated all my other cats (and dogs), as there was never any doubt in her mind, even when she was old and ill, that she was top cat and queen of the house. Even when Ziggy, my 24 pound Maine Coon male, would attempt to sniff her (saying hello?) from behind, Flower would turn around (if she felt even that was necessary), simply look at him as if to say "what, are you crazy?", then walk away. I think I really fell in love with her when, at about age eight, she became nursemaid to my beloved old male cat who died shortly thereafter. Up until that time, she had nothing much to do with him but I guess she knew something then that I didn't. She cared and my heart really melted.
Ever the clown and always "her Royal Highness," Flower was an extremely happy and healthy cat. In mid-life, she had a malignant growth removed from her thumb on one of her front paws (which didn't slow her down any), but really nothing much else went wrong until about age 17. Her coat was full and shiny, her teeth white and her posture erect and proud. We were just as proud of her. She even decided (finally!) to let us hold her for about a minute, sometimes a little more, and she reserved for us her very best bottle brush tail!
The next couple of years are hard to write about, but Flower held in there and retained her dignity and her beauty until the very end. We miss her terribly.
There will probably be another Siamese in our future one of these days, but there will never be another "Princess" Flower. Probably anywhere. Ever.
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