Y-Not Linus
January 1974 - December 1987
I met Barbara Levine many years ago when she was living in Yorktown, New York and I was working at Tanrackin thoroughbred farms. I actually went to Barbara's to look at Yetta, whom I did share my life with for a short while and who is also pictured here on this page. While there, Barbara was telling me about a frightened cat whom no one ever saw, a seal point neutered male named Linus. As she spoke, a cat crawled out from under my chair and into my lap and Barbara went silent for a moment. "That's him!" Even then, though I had a sneaking suspicion this cat owned me, Barbara wasn't so sure, so she made me come back at a later date to see if the unusual scene would repeat.
It did.
Linus gave me fourteen wonderful years, the first six months or so shared with his dear little girlfriend, the bright and funny "Yetta Yenta". Linus, a dark seal point, and Yetta, a clear-bodied chocolate point, were quite the lovely couple, don't you think?
For a while life was bliss, but then I became quite ill with pneumonia and lost my job at the horse farm. I had to move back in with my parents, who at the time were not able to allow me to bring my cats. Barbara held on to them for me, and when a wonderful family showed up who fell in love with Yetta, unsure of what my future held, I agreed that she should go with them and be happy. Several months later, I got a job and apartment at Guiding Eyes for the Blind, and Linus came back into my life.
For a long time, Linus remained his frightened self. He had a habit of hiding from anyone who came into the apartment, even if "hiding" meant that his head was behind the couch and the rest of his body sticking out. As long as he couldn't see you.... I used to tell people, "Linus is hiding, you can't see him," and the visitors always played along. If Linus and I were alone, or with our other animal family members (Linus knew Yoda and Merlin very well), he was perfectly fine, but as soon as the breeze brought a hint of stranger along, he became invisible. It wasn't until the Guiding Eyes job folded several years later, and I wound up back at my parents' house, this time with not only Linus but Yoda and Merlin in tow, that Linus began to gradually change. Like the Cowardly Lion, Linus discovered that he was the Lionhearted one indeed, and that his courage had been inside him all along.
Linus the Lionhearted
Linus's best pal was our dear tuxedo kitty Merlin, and the partnership between them was part of what helped him to overcome. Linus was with me when I married, moved to Carmel with my husband Joe, and when we brought into the world our first baby, Jessica. "Ninus", she called him, though I doubt she remembers that twenty years later.
Eventually, scaredy-cat Linus was no more. Instead he became our meet-and-greet kitty, donning the lap of every visitor whether they wanted a cat in their lap or not. He was brave and friendly, and would talk away at everyone who would lend him an ear. Everybody loved Linus, and loved to hear his story. Our sweet boy became an inspiration for overcoming fears, and we all learned so much from him.
Time Goes By
Many years have passed since we said farewell to our dear Linus not long before his fourteenth birthday. Recently, due to a series of coincidental events, I ran across Barbara again. What a thrill to see her! And then, Barbara asked why I didn't have a page dedicated to Linus on my website. After all, it was Linus who began a life-long love of Siamese and Oriental cats, and to whom I owe so very much.
Her question brought back the pains of lingering guilt. That December was such a hectic, confusing time. Jessie was two years old, we had seriously outgrown our attic apartment and were in the process of moving. And poor Linus, in the midst of the chaos, took a sudden decline. An inoperable tumor that had lurked behind his azure eyes "went bad". He lost his ability to orient himself and reason, he began sneezing blood, he was in obvious pain and distress. I've since lived with the heartache of knowing that we said our farewells during a time when I was so distracted by "everything else", that I couldn't give Linus's passing the honor and dedication that he so dearly deserved.
So now, thank you Barbara, for I will take this as my opportunity to give my sweet "Ninus" that honor. And thank you, Linus, for all you gave to me, and for all you continue to give to me today. Thank you for your legacy of love.
...if you please, or if you don't please,
Linus was all it meant to be
Siamese