The Search for the Seal-point Siamese

So last week, while I was in the middle of writing The Magician blog, this voice in my head said, “You need to start looking for your kitten—right now!” There are a limited number of things that I know for sure, and one of them is that it is always a good idea to pay attention to the voices in my head. It was time to start “The Search” to replace the Siamese we lost last spring. This is the fourth time in my life I’ve had to do this and it’s almost as stressful for me as job hunting—because not just any kitten will do. We love seal-point Siamese and they are difficult to find.

So I googled “seal-point Siamese kittens, Portland, Oregon.” and checked out the local catteries. It looked like they might have a few kittens—if we were willing to pay $350-$600. Prices had gone up. I called one cattery and the phone was picked up and then immediately disconnected. Unusual etiquette for a business.

I started to pull up Craig’s list, but the Oregon Humane Society listing caught my eye. We have never gotten a cat from the Humane Society. Some of my friends have found wonderful cats and kittens there, but just as many have come home with emotional wrecks. Pre-owned cats are frequently abused and confused. My life is complex enough with out having to deal with a neurotic feline. But again, the voice out of nowhere said, “Give ‘em a call.” The number was right there, so I called them. “Do you have a seal-point Siamese kitten?” I asked, certain that the answer would be, “Are you kidding!?”

“Hang on a munute,” the nice young man replied.

And then, “Yes, we do.”

“How old?”

“Two months.”

“Male or Female?”

“Male.” Perfect. It pays to listen to those voices. “When do you close?”

“The adoption service closes in twenty minutes.”

My husband and I scurried over to the Humane Society and into sur-reality. This did not look like an animal shelter, it looked like the lobby of a four star hotel. We told the young lady at the impressive front desk that we were here to see the seal-point Siamese kitten. She smiled, rolled her eyes, and said “Oh, you want Desi,” Then she turned to the young lady next to her and said, “Hasn’t he been adopted?”

“I don’t think so. He disappeared.” she replied.

Another young lady appeared from the depths of the cat section and led us over to a glassed in viewing room. Five or six cats and kittens of various sizes and shapes were snoozing on carpeted ledges, munching kibble, or batting at each other. None of them were Siamese.

A voice came over the PA system, “Adoption services are now closed.”

A woman with a slightly bemused expression materialized out of nowhere. Any kid would have been happy to call her grandma. “Are you looking for Desi? You’ll never guess where he is.” She unlocked the viewing room and pulled our guide in after her.”

“They won’t let you put a hold on kittens, you know.” I jumped slightly and looked to my left. If the woman standing there wasn’t a Lake Oswego matron, she should have been. She was blond and trim and decked out in elegant casual. She looked like she’d just turned away from the bar in some fashionable fern-filled bistro—right down to the glass in her hand that contained some ice-cubes and the remains of a drink. Her twelve year old look-alike was watching the two volunteers grope around in the viewing room wall. “We wanted that kitten,” she explained, “but they couldn’t find it and wouldn’t let us put a hold on it. My daughter found another one.”

By this time they’d located Desi. He’d crawled up into an electrical ductwork opening. They set him up on a ledge where we could see him. He was a beautiful seal-point. “You can put a hold on him and come and get him tomorrow,” the younger woman said. I looked for the blond, but she and her daughter had vanished.

Curiouser and couriouser.

“He’s really frightened,” the older woman said. “You’ll have to be patient with him.”

Rats, he was probably messed up. But he was so cute, we decided to come back and check him out.

When we arrived the next day, the same young lady was at the front desk. “Just fill out the paperwork and he’s yours.”

I told her we needed spend some time with the kitten before we decided to take him. The same older woman came trotting out with Desi. “I can’t believe it, he’s so much better than he was yesterday.” She handed over the kitten.

Clear blue eyes gazed up at me, and a marvelous purr rumbled through him as he relaxed into my arms. I was in love and my husband was headed quickly in that direction.

Then the theme from The Twilight Zone started playing in my head. “This is a blue-point Siamese,” I said.

“Yes, he is, and his points are perfect,” the woman said. “I used to have one.”

“But Desi is a seal-point.”

“No he’s definitely a blue-point. They must have gotten the paperwork wrong.” My husband started looking at the kitten’s collar, where they print the cat’s name, but before he could read it, the woman, whom I was now beginning to think of as The Magician whisked the kitten out of my arms and back in the viewing room. “We’ll bring him out to you and put him in your carrying case when you have the paperwork done.”

When we’d signed on several dotted lines and handed over the check, the efficient young lady who had helped us with the paperwork appeared with our kitten. “Is this the one you want?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this isn’t Desi.”

Oh good, I wasn’t going mad as a hatter. “So, can we see Desi? We really wanted a seal-point.”

The Magician put us in a small room and handed Desi over. His whole body was shaking like a vibrator and he flinched when anyone except my husband touched him. He started struggling, so I set him down on the floor and he ran to the farthest corner and looked back at us fearfully.”

“You could take both kittens. If you take two kittens the second one is half price,” said The Magician.

It didn’t take us long to figure out that we just wanted the blue-point. We didn’t have the patience for Desi.

She left to get the blue-point and reappeared in a panic a few minutes later. “He’s gone!” she said and turned and ran out the door.

Desi stared out at us from his corner and shook.

Minutes went by.

The Magician reappeared followed by the efficient young lady. “She knew you would want this one, so she put him in your carrier and switched the paperwork.” The young lady had our cat carrier in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other.

We checked the paperwork and the cat carrier contents carefully.

Everything was in order.

We thanked the two women and practically ran out the door.

We’ve had the blue-point Siamese five days now. His name is Paris and he’s an absolute joy.

Chalk one up for The Magician.