The Embodiment of a Turkish Angora Cat
by Simon Mouer
We already had two cats when the kids age 6 and 9 talked us into walking through a PetSmart store. On display inside was one of the many private animal shelters displaying their latest trove of cats for adoption.
There he was, pure white, with yellow-green eyes, and actively chasing a ball around in a circular cage. Once I picked him up and showed him to my wife, we couldn't put him down, and wound taking him home -- a $100 poorer, but infinitely richer in acquiring what we would later determine to be a Turkish Angora.
We don't know anything about his origin or previous owner, and he was listed as a stray. But he is the embodiment of everything we read about Turkish Angoras -- his medium-long fine silky coat, his very long fluffy tail, his untiring playfulness, his intelligence in opening containers and cabinet doors, that he likes to play in water, his gentle and calm disposition, that he doesn't like being petted much, his talkative nature, how good he is with the children -- allowing them to pick him up without scratching or biting (but escaping them on the first opportunity), his almond eyes slanting slightly upward, the tufts on his ears, the long tufts of hair between his toes, his tendency to climb up to the highest points in the house.
I have to say I have never seen such a beautiful cat. And he is fascinating to watch whether awake or a sleep. And he sleeps like he is dead, assuming strange positions, sometimes half on his back with his paws over his eyes or just laying out like he died, and sometimes with his head up like the sphinx.
And when he is awake, he will make a toy out of any small object on the floor. Our other cats are interesting, but he is fascinating.