Measle Sniffles

Yes, we have the Measlesniffles. And we are a cranky beast. Who would have thought that it would be possible to pack so much anger and indignation into such a relatively tiny little cat body?

See, to Romeo, this is just one more Great Injustice heaped on top of Squoosh, and other changes. Romeo Detroit, for the record, says that change is bad.

He has an upper respiratory infection, and probably a sore throat. So now he's on antibiotics. Poor measle. He's lost his voice, and can't growl. He tried to growl at Dr Vet, and it just ended up sounding like a coffeemaker when it's running out of water to percolate. And that only pissed Romeo off more, 'cos he was trying to be intimidating.

Not many people are intimidated by coffeemakers.

This is one thing that I love about Siamese cats--they have such a solid sense of Self, their rights, and Entitlement. And righteous indignation. A *lot* of righteous indignation. In fact, pretty much everything that occurs in Life is just one more indignity to be suffered to a Siamese's way of thinking. It's kind of cute.

So Dr. Romeo Detroit, C.O.M.S. (that stands for Cream of Mushroom Soup) is ok. Sick and angry, but ok. They gave him a loading dose there, and I start his meds tonight.

Romeo was named Romeo because the person who bought him for me told me I should "name him something nice". Meaning of course, that other cats I've had (and have had since) were given weird names. Hmmph. I don't think there's anything wrong with Trurl, Klapaucius, Wee Beastie, and etc... But whatever. I loved him from the moment I saw him, and so I did name him something nice. Well, I think Romeo is nice. He likes it when I say it in a Siamese voice--high-pitched and twangy, with three inflections. :-) It makes him happy; I'm speaking his language. The "Detroit" I added after about the first six months, because he was sheer murder, and Detroit is like, the murder capital of the world. Well, just about.

Cream of Mushroom Soup is his colour. That got added to his name one of the first times I took him to the vet, for a checkup, or shots, or something. The receptionist behind the counter took the cat carrier I had him in behind the desk (that vet took your animal back for you, and called you back when they were ready for you), and was asking me questions for his file. She'd obviously had a bad day or something and was being very brusque with me, which made me just more nervous. I get into these "trying to make people happy" modes in those situations. Or used to, at least. We got through name, sex, age, and then got to colour. I paused.

Well, he's a Siamese; they aren't one whole colour! And "Siamese" isn't a colour! I didn't know what she wanted!

She sighed, loudly. "Honey, what colour is he?" I panicked, trying to think of something that was the same colour...and finally thought of Cream of Mushroom Soup. It actually *is* the same colour as a seal point Siamese, but it too is not an actual colour. "Ummm...I don't know," I said timidly, "Cream of Mushroom Soup-colour?" The space for colour, I saw, didn't look big enough to write Cream of Mushroom Soup in.

She threw her pen down, sighed again, and got up. "Fine. I'll look." I realised that she thought I was trying to be funny. I was ok with her looking because up 'til then, I'd not thought about what colour Romeo was, and I was curious. She opened his box, and said "Oh! A Siamese! Why didn't you say he was a Siamese?" Well, I told her, because that's not a colour. And I know that Cream of Mushroom Soup isn't a colour either, but it was the closest I could come. I think she realised at that point that she was being a little short, and she laughed and said that she thought Cream of Mushroom Soup was a very good description. And then she wrote "Siamese" in for colour.

With all of the things that have happened with Puff-Puff and Squoosh, I think I've been remiss in preserving all of the wonderful things about Romeo for posterity here. He's definitely my baby--my son. :-) My son is a grumpy Siameasle who invented Fetch, and loves lobster. And hates Interlopers. And I should do something nice for him. Like buy a heating pad for him, even if that means Meg will start calling him "Bubba".

I should have never told her about the Southern Sisters mystery series. Sigh.