GRC Si Sawat's Sunan, "Muscles" was until now, the oldest Korat.
He lived 22.5 years.

In the late sixties we lived on the side of a mountain in California's high desert. I made outdoor runs for the cats with heavy wire so they could enjoy the good weather without being snatched by coyotes.

I was in contact with Fred Kimball, of Garden Grove, CA, who had the gift of being able to communicate with animals. Fred wrote a book about it. Unfortunately I loaned my copy to Cleveland Amory and it was not returned.

Muscles also had a large indoor cage. I phoned Fred while I stood with Muscles in the cage, and asked Fred to ask Muscles what had changed his attitude towards shows at a show a week-end or so before.

The answer was there was a judge with a dark face he didn't like, and there was a smell.

(I afterwards recalled seeing a fellow-exhibitor (not a judge) who always admired Muscles leaning over close to Muscles in his show cage, and Muscles shrinking away from the man, who had a dark, rather large face. With the usual ceiling lights above, it was easy to see how this moon-face looming over him made Muscles nervous.

But, what was the smell? I was later reminded the floor had been coated not long before the show, and the smell pervaded the hall.}

My next question to Fred was could I do anything about Muscles' run that would make him happier. The answer was: "I'd like a place where I can sit up and look out." I said he had one -- there was a carpeted cat tree on the high side of the run. Fred patiently repeated Muscles' request. I thanked Fred and we hung up the phone.

Carrying Muscles, I went into the run. I looked at the cat-tree and saw that there was a piece of plywood obstructing his view of the mountainside at the top of his cat-tree. I put Muscles on the shelf and (making word pictures as I spoke) told him I was going to get a hammer and remove the square of plywood I had put there as a wind-break If that was what he wanted, after it was done he could touch my cheek with his paw.

So it was. I stood on the outside of the wire with the hammer in one hand and the section of wood in the other.

Muscles still sat on his top shelf. He looked up at the rise of the mountain. Out came a paw, through the wire, and he softly touched my cheek.

Fred talked with dogs, too. He had an amusing exchange with our Basset Hound who grumbled that he didn't like using the wooden flap dog door downstairs because it came back and slapped his behind.

Fred couldn't have known there was such a flap door downstairs. We lived in a hillside house above the Sunset Strip in L.A. at the time so our sitting room was upstairs.

When we lived in Phoenix, we put on a seminar for Pet Pride Inc. and Fred was on the program. He frequently came to Phoenix to visit a friend who had a dairy and herd, west of Phoenix. He talked with members of the herd there.

As the seminar coincided with one of his visits he came to talk to our audience. Many were in tears at his answers to their questions.

One of them asked how pets felt about neutering and spaying. Fred's reply was: "They regard it as the price of a good home".

Daphne Negus
Si Sawat Cattery - USA