When my mother was growing up she had a Siamese cat named Suki.  She was a great cat; the only thing was she would get out at night and leave her “presents” the next morning … namely dead rabbits.  Of course mother was horrified.  When she got married she brought Suki with her and I remember her when I was very little.  She lived a long time and her passing was particularly hard on my mother, who had her since she was a teenager.  When I was about eight Daddy took Mama and me to get another girl Seal Point Siamese and he named her Ling Ling.  Much to Mama’s disappointment, Lingy was always my cat.  She spent all her time in my room and only left to eat and use the litter box.  I took her with me when I moved out and she lived until I was about 28.  Lingy had shared most of my life with me and I loved her so.  I wrote about this at Christmas, but sometime last fall a beautiful fawn-colored calico mama cat had kittens in bad conditions; three favored her and two had blue eyes.  They were all gorgeous but one in particular got my attention; he looked like a purebred Blue Point Siamese.  I named him Blue and hoped he would keep his striking blue eyes.  His mask has darkened perfectly and all his points are exactly as a Siamese should be.  His eyes have remained a stunning light blue.  However as he has grown, so have his antics.  I had remembered the great intelligence Siamese have and that they are very communicative.  What I had forgotten was how wild they can be; as wild as a March hare Mama used to say.  Blue is as wild as they come and certainly has the intelligence.  The cat can outhunt the wolves in scavenging for food.  He will stealthily sneak up and snatch anything edible out of your hand before you even realize what’s happened.  And he will get into anything:  witness Exhibit A in this picture.  I have found him in my huge pot on the stove, inside the Christmas tree, on top of my little one’s five foot tipi, and on the mantle.  I had forgotten how Siamese love to be up high.  He has already broken two of my things.  But I have NO earthly idea how he managed to get on the windowsill above a twelve foot ceiling.  I have pictures of it all.  He’s a long, lanky thing and spends much of his time lying in wait to pounce on others.  The poor wolfies are scared of him because he hunts their tails.  He hides under the bed, in bags, underneath tables and sometimes he just openly runs, leaps and dives straight down like a fox.  The Austrian born psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud said, “Time spent with cats is never wasted.”  Blue certainly keeps us on our toes (or hiding them) with nary a dull moment … our gato loco.