Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Our lilac point Siamese, Thai Shan, died one year ago today. He was nearly 14 years old, and the one constant in my life for that time.
He was sweet natured and well-behaved (to an unnatural degree; he would even walk past a pile of alpaca yarn) and a devoted pet. Every night when I came home from work he would be waiting at the door. If he'd missed me particularly he'd call out. It sounded like he was saying, "Mama's home!".
He's the cat who turned DH into a cat lover.
When he was young he was the feline MP of the group of cats my ex and I had (after Sud Ying died...she's a book's worth of anecdotes!). He was an excellent sergeant.
Thai would wait up for me if I went out at night. Last July I went to a bookstore party to get the last Harry Potter book, and he waited. He stayed with me all night as I read, though he was very ill; dying, in fact. He refused to go to bed until I did, at around 6:30 a.m. that morning.
He did thousands of sweet and funny things; I can't seem to pick just a few more to add. I'd be here all day, writing about him.
He was buried in a pet cemetery, with a marker including a photo of him and a quote from a poem dedicated to an English Siamese cat named Charles. I cannot remember the exact quote at the moment. I'll look it up later and add it in.