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I have only been lucky enough once to have a siamese cat. Some friends of friends had to move and couldn't keep their cat. He turned out to be a chocolate point siamese. His name was Sam.
He was a different sort of cat than any I had lived with before. We would come home from the store and see two or three siamese cats lounging on the sidewalk (this was before I wised up and learned that kitties don't live very long outside). We were unable to tell which cat was ours. Once we were home and settled in, one of the siamese cats would walk up the sidewalk to our house and that was Sam. It could have been any of the cats; we couldn't tell them apart.
Sam had gorgeous blue eyes slightly crossed, chocolate points, and a horrendous yowl. He was friendly to us, but he was always a cat that lived with us, not really part of the family. I suppose it was because we got him later in life and not as a young kitty. As I remember, he was about seven years old when he came to live with us.
One day he came to the top of the stairs and yowled at me. Then he fell down the stairs. I knew it would be bad. We took him to the vet's office, but they couldn't save him. We only got to live with him for six months.
When Sam was alive we would see all kinds of siamese cats around the neighborhood. After he died, we never saw a one. Apparently, they just came out to visit with him.