If you look close beneath his upper lips you can see fangs distending from below it. He had a glorious set. I called him my Sabre-toothed Siamese cat. You should have seen him before he lost his kitten fangs. The poor little fellow had four sets of fangs in his little mouth--all impressive.
Gaius came home to a Labrador Retriever named Nink--who adored him. He had taken to sleeping at the foot of our bed on his first night with us, but gravitated down to Nink's bed within a couple of weeks. She kept him toasty warm in the night. Both Nink and Gaius would push the drapes apart every morning and stare out the windows at the bunnies playing chase in the circle inside our driveway. After several years we replaced the drapes with wooden blinds and Gaius still felt compelled to look outside. Hm-m . . . how does a cat manage such a feat? Solution! We pull the blinds open with one set of claws and get between the blinds and the windows! Easy peasy. And noisy!
You've met Gaius before. Here he is on his first day at our house. So little and disconcerted. But that was just Day One. Things changed fast!
See what I mean? Our little Siamese thief absconded with every blessed scrap of paper in the house and used them for toys. Regular kitten toys? Pffft!
Gaius decided he wanted to help write my book(s). You might think cats don't have much to say. You would be wrong. Siamese cats never stop talking.
You've seen this, too. He made the leap to the top of the cabinets as recently as last month. I never failed to worry that he might decide to try an Evil Knieval stunt and try to cross the tops of the window frames. At 1/2 inch wide -- I'm thinking he couldn't make it.
Gaius went to sleep for the very last time today. He was precisely eleven years, 2 months old today.
Gaius is even a character in my last book, Alex Campbell.
This is his eulogy:
To Gaius Germanicus Catullus
May You Rest In Eternal Peace
Goodnight my sweet little Gai.
We will love you and miss your rumbling purrs and grumbling meows forever.
9 May 2008 ~*~ 9 July 2019
Thank you for sharing your eleven short, precious, and thoroughly delightful years with us.
~Dad, Gretchen, and me
This page will be added to the book.