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My love affair with Oriental cats began through the Siamese. For as long as I can remember I have adored Siamese cats. Then I came across the Oriental. They have the same body type as Siamese, beautiful elegant lines with a strong, muscular body, and long legs and tail. The main difference being that the colouration isn't limited to their points.
I have two Orientals in my life, and I can't imagine being without them. They are hugely interactive creatures, interested in anything and everything I'm doing. In the mornings they come to greet me with purrs and 'help' with getting ready for work, chatting away all the time, watching intently while I prepare their breakfast, in case I get anything wrong. When I come home in the afternoon they are often by the door as a welcoming committee, and it's impossible to get on with anything until we've all said our hellos and had a quick chat.
They are ridiculously demanding and vocal. They will sulk, they will pretend to any unsuspecting visitors that they haven't been fed for days. In return, they are unerringly loyal and affectionate. They tolerate being constantly picked up, carried around the house, and having their silky coats cried into when I'm upset. They love attention and are happiest being involved in whatever is going on in the home.
Sometimes when I'm sitting at the computer with a cat on the keyboard, one sitting on the mouse, one standing in front of the screen, and another trying to explain something dreadfully urgent to me (I have two Siamese as well as my Orientals), I wonder how life would be if I were able to do things when and how I choose. This morning, as I was cooking scrambled eggs and opening a tin of salmon for their breakfast, I wondered what it would be like to have time to have breakfast myself. Then this evening when I am buried under a blanket of loving, purring, beautiful feline people, I'll remember that that sort of life would be just terrible.