Oct 19 2010
Wubert Post
“Yes, he is annoying because he doesn’t wake up at 9 or 10 or 11 or 12!”
— Lucy commenting on Wubert’s early morning breakfast demands“I’m a little girl and he’s not a gentleman so he’s not my little baby!”
— Lucy explaining why Wubie can’t be one of her “babies” (like her dollies)“Hey look at this—a tall Wubie with a smile!”
“That’s Wubie at night playing baseball! That’s his window, and his treehouse, and his bat, and his baseball!”
— Lucy explaining her latest drawings of Wubert
Way back in 1998, Jill and I had been in our condo for a few short months when we realized something was missing.
1998 was a big year for us. I’d (finally) gotten my BA from SJSU, began working fulltime in Palo Alto, and settled down in a peaceful, quiet condo with Jill. Looking back, it was probably too peaceful and quiet, because we both came to agreement that we longed for the pitter-patter of little feet.
Yep, we needed a cat.
We started looking around, and one day dropped by a local pet store that occasionally showed off rescued cats in need of homes. The store had a little room in the back that housed about a half-dozen cages. On this day the little room held captive a clowder of Persian cats that had been rescued by the aptly titled Persian Cat Rescue Society.
Though we weren’t looking for a Persian, we walked into the room and took a look at the wall of cages, each one housing a pair of cats and a litter box. As we strode by each cage, Jill would give a kind word to each cat:
“Hi, little feller! Aren’t you a cutie!”
“Hiiiiii! Meow, meow, little guy!”
“Look at you! Oh, what a pretty tail you have!”
We were almost finished w/ our little tour when Jill stopped in her tracks in front of a cage. Inside, taking up most of the metal box was a big fluffed out Persian. But next to the Persian, relegated to a permanent spot in the litter box due to the tight confines of the cage, was a small, quiet(!) Siamese cat. Yep, it was Wubie. For Jill, it was love at first sight.
“OH, HI, LITTLE KITTY! LOOK AT YOU! YOU’RE SO SWEET!”
She immediately tried touching the object of her affection, plunging her fingers between the metal bars of the cage. Seeing this, Wubie stepped out of the litter box and flicked on his “charm” switch. (Funnily enough, I think this is the last time he flicked on his charm switch, the little con artist!) He pressed himself against the cage, allowing Jill to pet him while he purred quietly(!)
“Oh, this is the one! I want him!” Jill said excitedly.
“Are you sure?” I asked as I eyeballed the cat. “He’s not a kitten, ya know. He’s a full grown cat.”
“He’s the one!”
I looked at the cat again. “Pretty cat,” I thought. “He seems friendly and low-key.” (yep, famous last words.)
So, while Jill staked out the cage w/ her “claimed” cat, I went looking for a store employee who could help us out. To my surprise, none of the employees could assist with the cat. Instead, they referred us to a Persian Cat Rescue Society flyer with a contact phone number. Remember, this was 1998, so neither of us had a cell phone.
Jill reluctantly left Wubert as we both went out in search of a pay phone. Luckily, we found one right outside the shop. However, our hopes were dashed when our call led to an answering machine.
We left an excited, semi-coherent message, pledging our dedication and commitment to this newly discovered caged beastie, made sure to leave our contact info, and hung up.
I remember that call very well. By that time, Jill’s admiration for this new cat had become contagious. I wanted this cat too. And there he was, looking pitiful and depressed, hunkered down in a litter box behind bars. But we couldn’t save him. The only thing we could do was say goodbye and go home to wait for a call that might never come. We felt utterly powerless.
Time went by, enough time for us to conjure up paranoid thoughts of assorted miscreants swooping in and taking our cat. But then the call came.
“Yes, we want the cat!” Jill said to the woman on the phone.
“Are you sure? He’s a Siamese cat you know.”
“Yes!” Jill said. “I’ve had Siamese before. I know what to expect.”
“What to expect? What are they even talking about?” I thought as I listened in. The majority of my experience had been with gray tabbies. “Whatever. A cat’s a cat,” I decided.
Arrangements were made. When the day came, we drove off to the pet shop, excited as can be. When we saw Wubert, he looked worse for wear than our previous meeting. He now had an infected eye and was looking rather glum.
However, this time we were able to do something about it. We filled out the required paperwork, paid our “adoption” fee, and excitedly purchased cat food, toys, and a litterbox for our new charge.
Once we got him home, our new roommate took some tentative steps around the condo before doing some full-fledged exploring. We named him “Mr. Wu” which eventually turned into “Wubert”. Lately he’s been “Wubie”, the moniker Lucy applied to him.
Now here we are, almost 13 years later. Having Wubie has been great. He’s been a loyal (well, as loyal as a cat can be!) constant companion. However, I now understand much better what it means to share a home with a Siamese cat. Shortly after the adoption, Wubert shed the quiet, tentative demeanor. Once he became fully comfortable, he decided to wave his Siamese freak flag high.
Some observations about Siamese cats:
- They are loud and proud
- If they are lonely or bored, they will let you know about it, loudly
- They are stubborn
- I truly believe that they see many daily interactions as a struggle of wills
- They are incredibly perceptive (Wubert will run and hide if he thinks Jill and I are doing anything that looks remotely conspiratorial. He can sense when a trip to the V-E-T is imminent)
- Have I mentioned they’re loud?
Anyway, that’s the rather longwinded story of how we met Wubert all those years ago. Now, here’s some stuff that’s a little more recent:
Wubie’s getting older, so now he has to see the doctor every now and then. These are some pictures from a recent trip to the V-E-T (we spell it out when in front of him)
The above two pics were taken in the V-E-T’s office. The pic on the right was snapped after Wubie came home after a two day stay at the hospital. They had to put him under while he was there, so they shaved a little window in his sleeve where the needle for the anaesthesia was placed. Here’s a close-up of Wubie’s “window”:
More pics of Wubie after his return home. The left picture above shows him playing the role of customer at Lucy’s “store.” The pic on the right shows the two taking a break.
And here are two last pics of the partners in crime just hanging out. Young Kid and Old Cat—sounds like a cop buddy movie.
BTW, long before this blog was created, Wubie had his own web site. We have an archived version of it here.
