We are Siamese, if you please
Monday, 8 April 2024 12:09
Siamese Cat Day is celebrated every year on 6 April. If you are lucky enough to have a Siamese cat, step up the praise and pampering. Don’t worry that you might overdo it; there can never be enough adulation and indulgence in the world Siamese are intelligent, vocal, charmingly demanding and very much enjoy human company (what royal does not need an adoring entourage?)
Actually, Belvedere and I are rather surprised that Siamese cats have sanctioned this day; they descend from Royal Cats of Siam, after all, and it is presumptuous of humanity to patronise them with a “special day”. Every day is special. (All cats think this of course, but Siamese cats have priority.) The day was designated in 2014, in an effort to harness the glamour and charisma of the elite breed to help foster sympathy for abandoned cats of all kinds; it’s a bit like the UK monarchy backing their favourite marmalade/shop/ face cream by issuing By Royal Appointment licences.
The modern Siamese cat is an elegant imperious creature, with a sleek body, long legs and tail, impossibly glamorous fur, designer “points” and penetrating ice blue eyes. (Being with a Siamese or two giving you the stare is unnerving–like you’ve inadvertently walked into the wrong bar at the wrong time to find a convention of elegant villains, all of whom look like Ray Liotta in Goodfellas. So Belvedere tells me.)
Art Deco Cats
The first Siamese cats were introduced to Europe and the West in the late 19th century. The first breeding pair in the UK, Pho and Mia, arrived in 1884, brought in by Mr Owen Gould as a present for his sister Lilian. They were an instant hit. Breeders set about refining the original, introducing angular features, elongated body shape, killer cheekbones, and smooth lines, just in time to match perfectly with the sleek art deco style of the 1930s. Part of the allure was the contrast the new breed offered to the chunky, round-faced shorthairs most common in Europe. Belvedere and I have ruminated on this: it can’t have been easy for the native breeds; must have been like finding a string of thoroughbred racehorses stalking around your stableyard when you come back from a hard day’s ploughing mangel wurzels.
Back home in Siam (now Thailand, see below), the ancestor of the Siamese is the wichienmaat, which means ”Moon Diamond.” Isn’t that beautiful? This unengineered version has a rounder head, is a bit chunkier and remains a popular choice for Thai cat lovers.
A Book of Cats
We know a lot about the cats of Thailand because of the Tamra Maew, aka “Treatises on Cats”, a set of illustrated manuscripts originally produced sometime in the Ayutthaya period (1351-1767), although all the copies that still exist are 19th-century versions. Each cat is carefully painted and their attributes described in poetic form. You could say it was an early form of breed standard, which it is, but it is also concerned with how auspicious each cat is, so that potential owners could choose the cat most likely to bring luck and good fortune to the family. Most versions list 17 auspicious felines, some have 22, and some add in six inauspicious ones so you could be sure which cats to avoid.
(Just so you know, what was once the Kingdom of Siam is now known as Thailand. It changed on 23 June,1939 when the monarchy fell and the country was taken over by the dictator Philbun.)
Siamese stars
Movie fans will know that “We are Siamese if you please” ( see heading) is the opening line of the song written and sung by Peggy Lee for the 1955 Disney classic The Lady and the Tramp. The depiction of the cats is now considered disrespectful, but the animator has really caught their sinuous intelligence. The next line is “We are Siamese if you don’t please”, which neatly encapsulates the whole feline ethos.
Siamese cats have always been Hollywood A-listers though: Cary Grant (see blogpost for Tuesday 18 January) and Carole Lombard owned a pair, and Elizabeth Taylor owned several, and even gave one of them, called Magnus, to James Dean, her young, hot co-star in Giant (1956).
Actually, now I think about it, one day seems hardly enough.