I don’t know what got me thinking about this, but many years ago, when I was still living in San Francisco, I had a little female Siamese cat. She was a beautiful little animal, and very sweet. Unfortunately I have no photos of her, so I was looking online for some reasonable approximation, at least for color.
I named her Honey because she was, for the most part, the color of a dark honey, and I did usually refer to her as Honeycat. The online photo here is a male and gives a pretty good idea of her color, as best I remember it. After all, it has been close to 50 years ago. As a female she was smaller and more delicate looking.
She and I got along pretty well. I’d get home from work, and after dinner I’d sit in the lounge chair with my feet up on the ottoman. She would jump up and sit on my legs. I’d reach out to scratch her ears, and the purring would start. Then she’d roll over on her back and demand to have her tummy rubbed. And the purring sounded like an airplane warming up! At night she would again sleep on top of my legs (on TOP of the blankets, thank you), and in the morning I would often find her curled around the top of my head!
There was a game she liked to play. She would crouch down over on one side of the living room, and when I’d walk through heading to the kitchen, she’d race across in front of me, as if to say, “Ya can’t catch me!`” One day I anticipated this, and when she started her dash, I reached down and scooped her up. Smart cat, though. The next time I came through, a few days later, I reached down to scoop her up, and she jumped right over my outstretched arm! So there!