It Was A Dark And Stormy Night...

I'm glad my mother will never read this. With every sentence I write I'll hear her corrections to all of my facts- ALL of them. I know that this happened in Maryland in the early sixties- maybe even 1960 itself. Our friend Vivien had a friend who had a Siamese cat named Sindbad. Her friend was being transferred overseas, and couldn't take the cat. My mother had always wanted a Siamese. A match made in kitty heaven.

Mom drove over to the far side of Fort Meade (headquarters of the Second Army) and maybe even the far side of Laurel- I was like seven or eight, so I really don't know - in our Plymouth Valiant station wagon with the electric rear window that wouldn't roll up all the way. My stupid brother (six years older) and I were in the rear-facing back seat. Vivien rode shotgun.

I remember three things the woman told us: 1- never laugh at Sindbad, because he's very sensitive; 2- never let him outside because he'll never find his way home; 3- when you put down his food, tap the dish and say "this is for Sindbad." Of course, as you well know, these were HER issues, not Sindbad's

It began to rain- a mean miserable thunderstorm, at rush hour traffic time. Vivien had Sindbad wrapped in a towel, my stupid brother and I were in the rear-facing back seat with soda bottles trying to minimize the inpouring of water. Visibility was dismal, the thunder and lightning were terrifying, traffic was horrendous, the cat was howling that wonderful Siamese howl.

We made it home somehow, pulled into the carport, took the cat inside and set him down. He took off running, and disappeared. For a week we searched the house- a big rambling split level with a crawlspace and an attic- to no avail. We left food and water out for him, but it was never touched- of course, we hadn't been able to tell him "this is for Sindbad." We decided he had run away or died somewhere in the house. About a week later, he just appeared down stairs in the recreation room. He was our cat for fourteen years. It didn't take him long to teach us how wrong dumb-ass high-strung cat woman was. He spent much of his life outside, we all laughed together a lot, and in fourteen years we never ever said, "this is for Sindbad."