The Back Story – Alfonso P. Wallabee – Soulmate #2

I’ve known a lot of cats in my life. Like many of you, we grew up with cats, and Siamese have always been in my blood. Before I was born, my mother had a Siamese cat named Andromeda that used to swim in the ocean in Nassau. When I was 13, my mother gave me a Siamese kitten whom I named Ptolemy. He died two years later from a brain tumor and I got Mozambique, or Beeky as he came to be known. Beeky followed me through my troubled teenage years into adulthood, through my marriage, the birth of my daughter, and passed at age 19. Soulmate #1. Shortly thereafter began Siamese Rescue.

In the Rescue, we met all kinds of cats. Every color, shape, size and personality you can imagine. The Rescue started because I went on line to search for my next feline companion, an attempt to ‘replace’ Beeky. I found Duke at the Kansas Rescue in 1998, and he became the first Meezer to ride the Meezer Express, travelling from Topeka to Locust Dale in June of 1999.

While Duke was great (he passed in 2006), he wasn’t the  Beeky replacement I was looking for. A nice easy going cat, he loved everyone and every foster cat he ever met, and we loved him dearly in return. Yet something was missing – that one-on-one connection that I find rare – be it with people or with cats. That incredible soulmate type relationship.

As Rescue grew, we ended up housing the unadoptables. The old cats that came in with terminal illnesses, the cats that had behaviors we just couldn’t find home situations for, the ones that no one else wanted. We welcomed many, many wonderful cats into our home, at one point having a geezer population of 12 cats in the house. Yet something was still missing, until Alfonso P. Wallabee came along.

Alf arrived on a transport on July 1^st, 2002. He had been left at a kennel by an owner who never returned for him, and the kennel itself was being shut down by animal control for horrid conditions. Found in a room with no windows, very little light, in a small cage with his father, Blue Boy, was one emaciated seal point named Aladdin. And as such he made his debut at the Virginia Center.

Pulling him from the carrier upon arrival, ‘Aladdin’ let out a stream of urine guaranteed to win any pissing contest.  I remember giggling at the time as his surrounds quickly dripped urine. If only I had known what this meant for the future …..

Aladdin quickly became known as Alf, for his ‘quack’ sounded like a very A.L.F.ish noise (NBC ’86-’90). We saw the vet, who (much to my disgust) pulled out his last two remaining teeth while on the exam table (they were so loose they fell right out). And Alfonso, and Blupert as he became known, spent the next three months in a three tiered wire cage at the Center, hoping someone would adopt them.

They were very bonded, and very desperate for human attention. Pick either one of them up and they clung to you like there was no end in sight. These cats were two of the most desperately sad cats I think I’d ever met.

And the urine streams? Well, they continued. Not with Blupert, but Alf took every opportunity to anoint anything and everything he could. No medical reasons found, and honestly, this did not really appear to be territorial either. It just was the way he was.

So what to do with them? They certainly weren’t adoptable with this type of behavior. And they weren’t sanctuary candidates, for living long term in an outdoor fenced facility in the state of VA is just not feasible for the thin and lanky Siamese cat.

It’s not hard to guess what happened. Alfonso P. Wallabee, as he came to be known, maintained that middle initial for a reason. Darrell and I could write a book about waterproofing your house. We can tell you what type of furniture to buy, what kind of flooring is best, how to seal the molding strips so that they’re impermeable to liquid of any kind. We went through a lot of laundry, we had stock in Clorox, and we always wore shoes of some sort when we walked around the house. We never left anything of value on the floor, and I didn’t even flinch when I felt warm liquid on my leg. Yes, I know, most of you think I’m nuts, but hey.

I will tell you something, however. We have known many cats over our lifetime, and we have really liked many of them. But every once in awhile, you meet that one cat who rises above and beyond the rest – they just have that something, that despite the thousands of cats I have met, only Beeky had previously – that heart-to-heart connection, that mind-meld capability – that deep, deep bond that just surpasses everything – even the pee. This cat was just the best. Partially sighted, he bumped into everything. Muddled as could be; he was really a dumb bunny. He would do the chicken trot every night at 7, when it was chicken treat time, circling the island round and round until someone stopped him. His hearing was so poor that when he heard you, he headed off in the opposite direction. We would play the ‘portapotty’ game where when he howled, one of us would race with a portable litterbox to put it near him to encourage him to do his thing (rarely worked). And when we cuddled, you could literally see him smile from ear to ear. I agree, it is one in a million cats that one would accept a warm stream from when you’re sleeping in your birthday suit and still be head-over-heels for this cat. But let me tell you, he was that special one.

In all of those 50+ cats we’ve had over the years, Beeky was that first soulmate, Alfonso came in as the next one. I feel so very fortunate to have had several others after these two (stay tuned for Basil and Bibbles). What is the lesson from all of this? That I love the older, dumber guys that pee? (Hubby is not laughing). I guess it’s to give a tough cat a chance – you just never know when a certain one is going to live in your heart forever.