I lost Clove to death on Friday, 13 January 2012. He was my perfect cat, a confirmed pedigreed Siamese with perfect confirmation....hence being called my "perfect" cat. He was less than perfect in most every other way...his nickname was "the evil cat," or the "bad boy."
Clove was born on 8 September 2004 and I brought him home on Halloween 2004. He was born in Holland, Michigan and my friend Angie went with me to pick him up from his cattery...he was just 8 weeks old when I got him and he cried every mile between Holland and Lansing, Michigan, horrible, howling cries, when Angie couldn't stand it any longer and then she held him the rest of the way to Flushing...he instantly loved her and purred the rest of the way home. Two things you always noticed about Clove, outside of his ill-behaving ways: his purr (so loud you could hear it a few feet away from him), and his cry (the annoying sound could be heard on the second floor of the house and Clove was in the basement).
When I say that Clove was ill-behaving, I utter the truth, but he had a way of daring you with his Siamese blue eyes to not be captivated by him in spite of his poor manners. (He loved to jump on the counter, sleep on chairs,steal my mother's jewelry--he loved bling...the list goes on and on of his daily terrors).
One time when I was taking a nap, on a hot spring day, he woke me up by jumping off the kitchen counter continually with a loud jump every time near where I was sleeping until I was so angry that he wouldn't let me sleep that I got up and watched him jump back up on the counter and look out the kitchen window and I was about to wring his scrawny Siamese neck when I heard crackling noises and smelled smoke out the window. I forgot about yelling at Mr. Bad and went outside the house to see the fence on fire! I was able to put out a fire that my neighbor set (lighting a propane grill with lighter fluid on a windy day).
Another time when I fell down the stairs into the basement and my legs were all twisted at queer angles on the stairs, Clove came to sit beside me until I could compose myself and unbend my crooked legs. Other times if I cried he would come by me and hunker down beside me until I was calm again...
I still miss him and Cinnamin has become more attached to me in Clove's absence. My "perfect" cat was a bad cat but with a large, comforting presence.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
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