Six years ago this month I brought home a Siamese kitten. This is not an unusual thing. He was the sixth Siamese cat I’d had since 1972. I admit it. I am addicted. My addiction is specific. I have always preferred a boy, Seal Point Siamese. It had taken some time to find a breeder in the area and there was a mix up with phone numbers, so by the time I went to view the kittens, I was in severe withdrawal. I needed a Siamese in the worst way. The breeder was very nice and she did indeed have Siamese kittens but the Seal Points were girls. Hmmm. There was a little boy, climbing the couch in the next room, but he was lighter in color and had fuzzy fur, something I’d never seen before in a Siamese. She extracted him from the couch and brought him in so I could take a look. He was all wiggle, wiggle and yowling at the top of his lungs. I questioned her because he did not look like what I expected. She showed me his parents – both very dark, short-haired Seals, and said sometimes they are born with longer hair. It gets shorter as they mature she said. They darken as they get older she said. He was purring in my arms by that time, so all I really heard was blah, blah, blah. Within days of bringing him home, I knew that not only was he not a short haired Seal Point, he was the kitten from, well not a good place. Destruct-O Kitten. Our lives were turned upside down. I will admit that I secretly devised ways of finding him another home and totally lost my mind from time to time, mostly due to sleep deprivation. I’d like to say our Blue Point Balinese cat has matured now and blended into our home. That’s not what happened. There is very little change in him since that first day. He was not at all what I wanted, but he was exactly what I needed. He still drives me crazy at times, but I have realized that he has also become one of my greatest teachers. I have learned and am still learning patience, understanding, acceptance, non-attachment (to most of my things which are broken or damaged) and to my addiction, and most importantly that I can’t always have my own way. He prepared me for many things I could not have possibly accepted without his unwavering devotion to causing turmoil. The little things don’t matter so much anymore. The big things are still big, but easier to accept. We never get what we want in life unless it is in harmony with what we need and it is a rare thing, because we are usually so out of touch with what we need. Sometimes what we need becomes something we could not imagine living without.