Siamese Cat Magic

An old lady came to the door. She had a round face covered with warts and a few hairy moles for good measure. Her hair was grey and short, she looked like a well-fed, smartly dressed witch. She showed me a Siamese cat. She said it was lost, and asked was it mine? I said, 'No', but I told her I'd look after it.

The cat was old. It's eyes were dark with no pupils visible. It had to be blind, or near-blind... It's legs were crooked and it's belly sagged, but she purred when I stroked her. Her breathing was wheezy, but she was confident when I picked her up, and her purr was strong.

She had a tatty red collar around her neck, she had to have an owner somewhere. Only I didn't want her to have an owner. I wanted to keep her.

I have Siamese cat magic going on.

On my 14th birthday my Grandpa gave me a long haired Siamese. This first cat of my own, Barney, was thin with a grey head and legs, a white body, and a bushy grey squirrel tail. He loved to jump on my shoulder unexpectedly. My Grandpa would give me everything I ever wanted. (I didn't go to his funeral.)

Ten years ago I visited my Mum in York, leaving Alex at home in our St.John's Wood flat. My mum helped a cat rescue charity, so one evening a lady turned up on my Mum's doorway carrying two smart green-blue cat baskets. She left the basket's in my Mum's hall, then disappeared into the night in tears. I left for London the next day carrying the two blue-green carriers, and two Siamese cat brothers. They wailed all the way to London.

Alex didn't want cats. Siamese cats are extrovert cats, you can't ignore them. They demand love - or hate. Alex soon loved them fiercely, whilst hating me for forcing him to do that.

I saw his point. Those cats were trouble. Peter soon got stuck on the roof of a four story building. Charlie nearly died of pancreatitis. Neighbours often rang us to report that our cats visited. They sometimes peed on their antiques. Our cats were the talk of the neighborhood. They were loved by many, and hated by anyone who valued their antique furniture.

When Alex's mum was ill with cancer he visited York a lot. And I felt stuck in London, I had no job, no friends, and I would have followed him to live in York, but how could I? I had my two needy cats.

When Charlie died our world changed. Of course he was 'only a cat' but to say that is not to know how much he wanted to be more than 'only'. He took over our lives as much as any child, making his presence felt with loud Siamese cries that made him sound like a peculiarly expressive baby. I got the blame for all the grief Alex felt when our cats died. All because of a decision to carry those two blue-green cat boxes on the train from York to London that day.

I've always had cats, but after Peter and Charlie died they were 'my cats,' Alex kept his distance. I sometimes wonder how much part those cats had to play in ending our thirteen year relationship. Their cheery purrs were always accompanied by my lover's resentment.

So the Tooting Bec smart-witch gave me a blind, crippled Siamese, and I felt she cast a spell on me as she did. I stroked the little cat, with a stoke that was all she needed to make her whole world happy.

And my head flipped. It was obviously a head-flip Siamese cat magic spell. You see, I feel I owe the world some happiness. I could list the reasons, but...

I deleted that. What point does it serve? Everyone has regrets. The thing is how much I want to make up for these. And stroking a lost, old, cat and making it happy felt like some small way to set the world to rights.

It felt like this Siamese stray had to mean something. So I searched for the meaning. I looked to the past, I looked to a dream future, and I loved that little cat for a little while. I wanted her to be mine.

But I knew that I should ring the vets to see if anyone had lost her.

Cats can be microchipped, a tiny identification number placed under their skin. I took the cat to the vets to check for this. They looked and shook their heads, there was nothing to show who she belonged to. I said I'd take her home, I'd look after her until her owner was found. Hoping her owner would never be traced.

The vets assistant said she needed treatment, she'd been lost for a while, she might need fluids, or help with her wheezy breathing.

The cat looked strong to me, and I knew she'd been happy in my arms.

I thought of invoking the law of, 'finders keepers'.

Then I realised I was being crazy.

So I left the blind blue Siamese at the vets. I thought I'd ring up today, to see if her owner's been found.

I decided not to. It was a strange magic that messed with my head. I have Dolly. I wanted that needy Siamese, for lots of reasons, but perhaps it's some kind of penance that she made me hurt, and that I didn't get my own way for once.