When I was growing up, we had many cats, but my favorite had to be Rama.
Rama was a purebred Siamese.
This was back in the day when Siamese cats were kind of a rarity.
He was, what is now called, an “apple head” Siamese – not the triangular-shaped head that is more common now. Not only was he whip thin, with beautiful coloring, when he meowed it sounded like a baby crying, and I could (and would) walk him on a leash!
In fact, we kept Rama on a rope in the backyard when it was warm and he wanted to be outside.
He was a sweet, gentle soul, except when it came to the neighbor’s dog.
That poor dog.
We kept Rama tied to a heavy (redwood) lawn chair, and the neighbor’s dog knew exactly how long that rope was.
What he didn’t count on was, one day he stuck his nose through the hedge that ran between our property and the neighbors and Rama tore out after him – skinny Rama hit the end of that rope and that chair moved – at least a foot – putting the dog’s nose within easy reach.
After that, the dog no longer chanced visiting our yard if Rama was outside.
One of Rama’s favorite pastimes was to run (sounding like a herd of elephants) through the house, up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he would leap in the (dry) tub, race around and then start another lap.
One day, I heard Rama begin his run, only I knew something Rama did not know.
There was water in the bathtub. In fact, the bathtub was pretty full.
My bedroom door was right next to the bathroom, and I just stood in the doorway and waited for the inevitable.
Up the stairs came Rama. Around the corner and into the bathroom.
I watched Rama leap high and look down and see all of that water!
And I swear that cat switched directions and bounced off the top of that water, barely getting his feet wet!
Needless to say, that was the end of his bathtub romps.
Rama also liked to fetch.
The family would sit and watch TV and eat walnuts. We would throw the shells for Rama, and he would go get the shells and put them in the bag we had for that purpose.
If you didn’t have the bag out for him, though, he would go find a shoe and deposit the walnut shell there.
Until the day Rama caught a mouse.
And there was no bag to put the mouse in.
But there was a pair of slippers – my slippers to be exact.
(And no, that is not me – that’s my half brother Chick)