Layla was a bargain kitton. Her mama nipped off the tip of her tail during birth, so she was cheap. We needed a playmate for Siada and there was this adorable little marbley baby at a bargain price, so we got her. Neither of us expected her to be such a good, wonderful, loving girl. Of all our cats, she has the absolute best temperament. Every day is THE BEST DAY EVER to her. She bounces through life gleefully loving pretty much everything she encounters.
Yes, she is still bat-crap crazy, she is, after all, a Savannah. She is a cuddler (even with strangers) and if you rub her belly while she sleeps, she starts purring. She is also, hands down, the most adorable animal I have ever met.
She is also a little thief. Nothing is safe from her. She stole the stoppers from the bathroom sinks. She stole so many toothbrushes that we had to get new ones and keep them on lock-down. Same goes for the toothpaste.
The other night I woke to clanging and banging in the kitchen, went into see what was going on. She was stealing the silverware out of the sink, and taking them and dropping them into the cats' ceramic waterbowl across the room. There were 3 spoons and a butter knife there already and I got her as she was preparing to leave the sink with a slotted serving spoon.
Bandaids? She loves those. She will go dumpster diving for used ones. She will even try to peel them off of your flesh. That is a royal prize in Layla Land.
And food, oh dear, the food. Our cats have food available 24 hours out of the day. She can eat whenever she wants. However, she is always convinced that someone has something better. Last week she was right in that assessment, because she managed to teleport across the room and snag a very large pork chop off Papa's plate before either of us even knew what happened. I only managed to catch her with it because she had to stop to adjust it in her face.
I really think that if every Savannah had such a perfect blend of happy and wild as she exhibits, that there would be no keeping up with the demand for Laylaesque Kittons.
Siada's full name is Siada al-Amira. Siada "The Princess". And she most definitely is (and she knows it).
She is mostly a benevolent ruler. She adores her people, especially her papa. She can, however, be demanding in the evenings, and will disallow him uninterrupted TV or computer time, because she must perch on top of his belly and under his beard and be petted while she purrs (and suckles on her own nipples, but we mostly try to ignore that bit).
She will yield to her little sister when it comes to treats, but if Layla tries to sit on her favorite seat, she will eat the marbled one's head as a reminder of her lowly station in life. ("Siada, don't eat your sister's head!" is the second most common phrase in the house after "LaylaNO!")
She also could well have been named "Siada, Healer of Hearts" because she was the only thing that prevented complete shattering of my heart, and world, after losing Nimar. Some people would question immediately getting another pet after losing one that was so well-loved, but if you think it is the right thing to do, it absolutely is.
When we got her, it was just two humans and two old cats who have a distinct dislike of spotted felines. Her papa was her cuddler from the moment she arrived, but I was the designated playmate. She and I would play chase through the house for hours. We would "race" where I would get her to sit in place while I counted down to GO and then we would both go running for the next room. Yes, she always won as even as a little kitten she was blazing fast.
And my favorite of all was her "Bitty Kitton Game". She would make eye contact with me from across the room, and then hunker down in a stalking pose. The moment I would look away, she would teleport to another location (often where I could not even see her), and a few minutes later she would leap out of thin air and attack my head. This game was a real pain when she wanted to play it, in the dark, at bedtime and I had no idea an "attack" was coming, but mostly the rest of the time it was nothing short of hysterical.
The best part of it is that she still plays this from time to time. She will lock eyes with me and I know the pounce is imminent. Fortunately, she has learned to keep her claws sheathed and the pounces are no longer full force, so I can laugh and then give chase (or go hide so that she can pounce me again).
Savannah Caretaker who is honored to do the job.