I've been thinking lately, a little obsessively, about Siamese cats.
In December my 18-year-old cat, Kitty, died. People often remarked that he must have been part Siamese: he had the Siamese voice. And he was the ultimate cuddle-cat. Not to mention quite the mischief-maker, even after he was diagnosed with kidney failure.
I have two cats at home now, both domestic short hairs, one gray and white, one tuxedo. Clyde, the gray and white guy, is 18--he has arthritis and is being treated for hyperthyroidism. Casey, the tuxedo cat, just came to live with us in January. He's about 5, and he needs another cat to chase around and generally befriend. Clyde certainly isn't up to it (though he did manage a couple of seconds of batting at Casey today).
So I'm thinking a Siamese cat needs to come live with us. A rescued cat, not a fancy one. I think that should make both Casey and me happy. I can't really speak for Clyde. Mostly, Clyde likes to eat his food.