"Pet Tails": a book with answers?

One of the neatest things I got this year for Christmas, or possibly in some time, was a book called "What is my cat thinking? - The essential guide to understanding pet behavior". (It was written by someone named Gwen Bailey). My mom got me this book knowing that it would suit me well and interest me - and it has.

Going through the book I've found a LOT of similarities between things that were explained or described in the book that I could relate very well with my own cats. If for nothing else other than things that I've come to know of my cats and learn about them...and then to read in a book that perhaps its true.

One portion explained that cats will go where they find great food. A photograph was included of a cat eating out of a dish and practically had its face burried deep in the bowl! How much is that like my own cats? Very much so! When it comes to food, my cats certainly have their favorites. They've had the same brand of dry cat food for several years, but whenever I've tried to feed them something differently - either because they ran out of the regular stuff and the store didn't have any more of it, or perhaps I was given some by the animal shelter after an excess of donations - they would kinda, sorta eat the 'other stuff' but they wouldn't be gourging themselves crazy on it. Full dishes would not only last all day but may still be partially full by the next morning. As soon as I got some of their regular stuff, however, they'd dig themselves right into it and eat like there was no tomorrow. They DO know when their dishes get empty. They DO know that I know where I keep the food. They DO know that if they harass me early in the morning while I am still in bed that I will know what they want. And...don't even get me started on the ham issue!

The greeting topic is also something I related with. Often I will come home and as soon as I step through the door I'll either get cats looking my way or some times even have them attack me at the doorway as a sort of welcoming party. But one of the more unique aspects is the greeting they will give visitors. Sylvester, the more socialable of my cats when it's just me at home, will typically run and hide and only check someone out from a far distance. Athena, who used to be quite shy, will now make herself known and will look for attention. Tabby will come out and see who's here so that a visitor will know she's there, before wandering off to find a quiet place to sleep. Whiskers will come check out a visitor to meet them, but prefers to do what Tabby does afterward and will go off to sleep himself. The cat with the least amount of energy these days, Porkey, seems to find a renewed source of enthusiasm and will be out looking for attention and affection with Athena as though it's a contest. The photos of cats interacting with each other in different social situations were also familiar looking - the "I'll get you" behavior as two cats tussle around on the floor, the single paw batting as a sign that one cat wants another to "go away", and the curious nose-to-nose sniffing greeting to see if they are knowing of another cat - were all exhibits of things my own cats do.

The territory section was quite unique to read. My cats each tend to have their own "spots" within the apartment itself. Athena tends to enjoy one particular end of the couch, as well as the pillow area on the bed. Sylvester likes to lay on top of the cat stand when it's open, as well as an overturned cat carrier I keep in the bathroom for just such a purpose; complete with a blanket for comfort. Porkey enjoys the couch as well as the lower level platform of the jungle gym, and also near the foot end of the bed. Tabby really enjoys the top level of the jungle gym (when Sylvester is not there), and any other place where I may be. Whiskers has a fascination for sleeping on the toilet seat as he finds the soft blue seat to be .... comfy? The cats aren't quite "territorial" persay about one of the other cats being in their 'zone' but I do have a feeling that they are disappointed and perhaps aggervated when they find another one in their spot.

My cats are now indoors cats but they have been outside before. All except for Athena, that is. One page I found in the book showed how one owner was allowing its cat to get outside on a harness. Been there, done that, tried that, failed at that. At my previous residence I attempted one time to get my cats to enjoy being on a harness while allow them the ability to actually get outside. Of course that presented many a challenge. Most of the time instead of walking around they opted to almost slink around on their stomachs as though they were crawling. They wanted to go in one direction, while perhaps I wanted to go in another. They had no interest in going back inside at any point, so when it came time for that I had to literally pick them up to take them in. Which eventually is what led to the end of the whole cat-on-a-leash experiment. One cat....whose name shall go unknown except to say that his name begins with the letter "P"...decided that he wanted to run off in a different direction and didn't enjoy the tight line of the leash I was controling him on. What happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object? The object wins out. In this case, the force of Porkey... I mean...that unnamed cat...was stronger than the leash-to-strap clip. Snap, break, I'm free! I had to chase him down to get him to go back inside but that was the last I ever attempted to use a leash for them knowing that eventually it would not hold.

The book explained that when cats sit in the window looking outside they are remembering what it is like to be outside. That when they see a bird outside they will sometimes chatter their teeth. Living in town we no longer see many birds where we live, but I always enjoyed it when we lived in the country that sitting in the window Sylvester would often chirping-like sounds in the form of soft meows as though he were talking back to the birds. I could always tell that he wishes he were outside hoping to go hunt them down.

One photo page that I disagreed with in the book which, not at fault of the author by any means, but toward the owner in the photograph. It displayed three photos: one of the woman encouraging the cat to get up on the counter, holding a dish in view of the cat, and then finally allowing the cat to eat the food out of the dish. What part of that bothers me? That the owner was encouraging the cat to get up on the counter. Hey, to each their own and owners can raise their pets/cats differently. But I am not sure that I know of anyone who would appreciate their cat being up on the counter. Do I want my cats walking around on the counter where during the day otherwise I prepare my own food? No! Luckily my cats have never had that tendency and it's certainly not something I encourage.

Litter boxes near food dishes? Uh, no. Like many owners, I do not keep my litter boxes for my cats in the vicinity of their food and water dishes. Like people....would you want to prepare your food for a meal on a counter right next to the toilet? That's why civilization has created the idea of the "kitchen" and "bathroom" as separate rooms. In some cases this can't be helped, such as at an animal shelter where the litter box and food/water dishes are within the confines of the cage. But when the cat is at home and you put its food dish very close to the litter box where it does it's business....that obviously is going to create a confusing situation. As much as I can, I try to have my own cats' facilities located on opposite ends of the room as much as possible.

Thankfully my cats no longer have a nice wooden frame of a window to scratch at, but they still do enjoy scratching the end edges of the couch. I suppose its fine ... for now... as the couch in the apartment isn't in the best of shape in the first place. But should I be able to buy a new couch or better condition one in the future - or perhaps even a recliner? I hope they stop feeling the need to scratch up our furniture we have. I understand the need for scratching, but....do they realize that instead of scratching at my couch they can scratch as a nice, catnip-scented cardboard scratcher located in the bathroom? Hey, that's much funner!

One of the more disturbing photos in the book was what....well, quite honestly it appeared to be two cats humping. Mating. Having sex. Whatever. It was in the section of the book on 'courtship' ... It was included with a section of text about the male cat withdrawing and causing a discomfort to the female cat after the act....

Cats can be trained to learn about being rewarded for behavior for something. The most recent example of this that I could think of was after Whiskers' butt surgery a few months back. Part of the treatment at home came with doing the twice-daily butt baths and the twice-daily antibiotic. At first he had no idea what to think about the butt baths. But he came to not mind them because he learned that after the butt bath, I'd sit him down on top of the toilet seat cover and then give him some treats. (Unknowingly of course that contained within the treats was the pill he was supposed to be taking.)

Probably the most entertaining portion of the book concerned "staring". Too many things I could get into about my own cats and this, so I'll just reference the passage straight from the book:

"Even cats that know their owners well don't appreciate being stared at. Although they get used to our eye contact when they live with us, a full-on stare can make them feel uneasy, and they will usually turn their faces away to relieve the tension. Another way to make themselves feel better is to close their eyes. If they feel uncomfortable but not threatened enough to run away, closing their eyes lets them think that 'if I can't see you, you can't see me.'" (page 87)


Check it out:
"What Is My Cat Thinking?" by Gwen Bailey
(note: all the cat pictures featured in this blog are of my own cats)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!

"Pet Tails": the cats elf'd...again...and again

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

"Pet Tails": my cat's "elf'd"

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

"Pet Tails": back on top

Each year I look forward to my cats' respective vet visits with curiousity. Many times it's good news, other times its interesting results, other times its uncertainty. Typically they haven't had any bad news given unless its been on an emergency visit that is not their regularly scheduled annual visit. The best example of that would have been Whiskers' emergency vet visit several weeks back with his 'rear end' problem. The two cats whose visits are typically going to be the most interesting, are that of my two 'big boys'. Porkey and Whiskers. If for nothing else than the past few years since I've had them both to see which cat registers as heavier according to the scale.

For the most part, Porkey has always been my biggest cat by far. Outweighing Tabby, Athena, Sylvester and even Whiskers since I've had him. However, since last year the tables were turned when Whiskers weighed in as the larger cat. For nearly the past 12 months its been casual and light-hearted teasing given to Whiskers for being the more rotound kitty of the bunch. This year, however, I was interested to see how things would turn out. While Whiskers has been his typical self in terms of eating and activity rate, Porkey has become a bit more...."less active." Perhaps its for no other reason except that he's entering his old-age and just isn't naturally going to be as active. Nonetheless, I've noticed for a while that he's the least active of all the cats. Since he's been eating as much as ever, I was surely guessing that come his vet visit his weight might be even more than the previous year's visit. Would he topple Whiskers and regain his crown as the largest cat of the household? This past Friday was his vet visit.

Porkey is by far the easiest of the bunch to get into a cat carrier. While the other four stay away from any carriers, especially when the door is opened, but Porkey is the one without fear who will crawl right into one if left adjar and make himself as comfortable as can be. At the vet, he was just as easy to get him to exit the carrier for his visit. Porkey doesn't mind the vet visit itself, but while he doesn't have a problem with the veterinarian checking him out....he's like a hyperactive child who just won't sit still. As the vet lady attempted to check his vitals and do the other checks that they do regularly, Porkey kept squirming and wiggling his way toward the side of the table. In my direction. As though by reaching me that I was going to save him. (Wait a minute, Porkey, weren't you the one with high excitement about going into the vet in the first place? You did crawl into the pet carrier back at the apartment!)

His visit was as typical as it could be. Generally good health, the need for food like tartar-control cat treats, and he got his shots (rabies vaccine). But the interesting highlight of the visit came at the end. He needed to be weighed. So the vet technician put him on the table scale in the room and recorded down the weight that was displayed.

Previously his weight has hovered around 15.5-16.5 pounds, with his visit last year being just over 15.1 pounds. This year? He gained weight since last year's visit. More specificially, about 2 full pounds. That's right....

Porkey weighs 17.5 pounds. Unofficially, according to the vet's record of the weight from the scale's display, he weighs 17.5 pounds. As much of a shock that is of itself, it's just as surprising that he's gained 2 pounds since the previous year. Although, when I look back on the past 12 months, it's not ... too surprising. Granted, he eats as much as he normally does. But his activity level has decreased quite a bit and his range of exercise is deciding to go from laying on the bed in the bedroom to laying on the couch in the living room. Thus he has to move.

As far as a diet for him, there's not much I can do. All five cats have dishes down for them and I can't very well keep one cat separate from feeding while the others do. While I am gone during the day, there's no one home to keep them separate. So the food dishes are open to eating by any and all of the cats and they'll - including Porkey - will eat at their will when I am gone. The vet brought up the issue of limiting the amount of food I put in the dishes. Which makes sense, but then again... during the day...when I am not home....who's to say that Porkey won't eat his share and another cat's "share" in a day? I can't very well take him outside for a walk because I DO live in-town, downtown in my city. And we don't exactly have any cat treadmills to use for him. I really only have options including encouraging him to be more physically active and to try to limit the amount of eating that I can logically control of him when I am home.

So while Porkey had a long run as being the largest cat of the household, but lost his title to Whiskers last year, his reign as runner-up has only lasted a year. As Porkey is now back on top of the list as the largest cat of the household.

I just wonder if I should feel bad about going to McDonald's for my lunch immediately after we left the vet on Friday. :-)

"Pet Tails": 10 bucks a pound for medical care

I could have titled this entry something about "Whiskers's trip to the vet" but I wanted to go for a more enticing and mysterious subject title.

A few weeks ago I was ready to leave for work on a Monday morning when suddenly I noticed something odd on the floor. Bending down to pick it up I realized it was something that was better suited for the litter box. However was was making me curious wasn't the fact that it was a piece of poo, but that it appeared to have part of a worm woven into it. .... One of my cats has WORMS?! Oh good grief! With five cats... how am I to know whom has them??

I consulted a friend that I have who works at an animal shelter in the area and she said that if I came in then she could give me enough doses of a liquid medicine they have that I can give to my cats. No charge, and it'd be enough to give all five of my cats a dose - since there's no way to know who has the worm, they'd ALL have to get some.

So I got the medicine the next morning on Tuesday, came home and gave them all a small dose. I figured that would be the end of things and that whomever was the culprit would be cured and there would be no further developments. How wrong I was!

That evening when I returned home from work I noticed that Whiskers was a bit more standoff-ish than what I would expect from any of my pets. He wasn't very socialable, didn't want much attention, and seemed to prefer being off to himself. I just figured it was a case of him being 'attitude' and being upset at me having given him the stuff. The next morning on Wednesday morning it was the same thing from him. However, I began to observe something else. An odor. An aroma. It wasn't the stink of a litter box, and it wasn't the odor of the garbage in the waste basket gone bad. I even smelled the odor after I took a shower that morning, so it clearly was not me. What was that smell?!

That night I got back from work and came in the door. Instead of being greeted by some or all of the cats, some of them were crowding around me looking for food or attention of some sort. But Whiskers? He was standing over by the door to the bedroom. He was keeping his distance and it was beginning to make me worry that something wasn't quite right. As I approached him, he did a turn-around and walked back into the bedroom, and then right into the bathroom. Now, THIS was getting really odd. I went into the bathroom to see what was wrong with him.

Whiskers wanted to sit or lay down on the bath mat on the floor and just remain still and not move. It wasn't until he rolled on his side that I saw a bit of blood under his tail. Further inspection led me to discover that he was bleeding from some sort of wound or something, and there was even a bit of oozy discharge. This was REALLY making me freak out at this point. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY CAT?!?! It was so late at night that I couldn't do anything about it then, so he'd have to wait until the morning before I could call the local vet.

Unfortunately it caused me to want to isolate him so he wouldn't have any more complications, so I had to lock him in the bathroom with his own litter box and food. Not wanting him to be in the dark all night, I even left the bathroom light on. So for the rest of the night I worried and worried about my cat, and also was bothered by the sound of the bathroom fan that I could clearly hear going. That and the subtle light peeking out from the frame of the bathroom door that was closed.

The next morning I got him into the vet. The vet tech determined in a prelim examination that he may have had a bite wound or something of some sort that was needing to be cleaned out. So they were going to keep him overnight for further treatment and I could pick him up most likely the next morning. So I went home wondering who could have bit Whiskers in the ass to cause such a wound. The only cat I could suspect was Sylvester. Since he's the one most likely to cause havoc and create chaos.

However the next day at the vet told a different story. After shaving down his bottom, examing and treating him further, I was told that it was an abscess that ruptured. It actually ruptured in 3 places, but that it had been draining well. His at-home treatment would include being given an antibiotic pill twice daily, as well as a butt-bath in epson salt-water twice daily. I would have to do this for a week until his check-up a week later.

Oh joy! Imagine the fun that we had for 7 straight days, 2 times a day... dragging Whiskers into the bathroom where I sat flat on the floor on my butt, and basically held him sitting down in a wash pan that was filled a few inches with warm water mixed with epson salt.

All in all his butt began to heal as the days progressed. To this very day it's basically healed all over where the incisions or openings were and his butt looks like ... well, his butt should. He's back to his normal self and is back hanging around me all the time, picking fights with the other cats, and being his normal "Whisker-self".

So what's with the 10-bucks-a-pound medical care statement about? The initial visit and treatment, plus the cost from the check-up a week later totaled just over $160. Whiskers, according to that same visit, was weighed in at just over 16 pounds. (I think it was like 16.3 or 16.4 that he weighed-in at). So since then it's been a subtle joke that in order to take Whiskers to the vet to get his butt taken care of.... it figured out to just about $10 bucks a pound. 16 pound cat, $160? $10-a-pound!

"Pet Tails": 5-in-1 photos

When I very first got my cats I initially started with the original two - Porkey and Tabby. I thought it was neat if I was to ever get the both of them in one photo. Then when I got Athena, I thought it was unique to get all three in a single shot. Three became four when I got Whiskers? One night, at around 1am actually, I managed to capture a photo of all four.

But when Sylvester joined the household.... I thought that getting all five cats in one photograph was going to be IMPOSSIBLE. How in the world would I be able to keep all five of these cats, with all their unique personalities each, to keep them situated in one spot long enough to take a photo? Not just that, but a place where they'd be clustered together to fit within the camera frame and be visible enough? How could I get all five in a photo long enough to have the camera ready to take the picture? If it was going to take a miracle, I was needing one. For nearly the past 3 years that I've had Sylvester, not once have all five been in such a situation where this would have been possible.

Until now.

Within the past 2 weeks I've been able to take two photos separately of the five of them positioned in such a place that I've been able to get to the camera and back and ready to take a photo without them being disturbed.

"Pet Tails": modeling for the new camera

I recently got a new digital camera as a bit of a late birthday present from my mom. So of course I had to test it out with a few unlucky subjects who were not too willing to pose or probably understand what was going on.

"Pet Tails": Sylvester at the vet

One of the highlights each and every year with my cats is when they go for their annual visits to the vet. It's not as much interesting to have them get the annual exams - as I can look at them every day and tell if they're healthy or not - but the fun resides more in how the particular kitty handles going in the carrier, being put in the car, driven through town and then taken into this strange building they see generally once a year that is somewhat noisy at times with loud barks of dogs and faint meows from fellow cats being dragged in by their owners.

In late May, it was Sylvester's turn. Of any of the cats to go to the vet at some point this year, he would be the most interesting I was sure of before that day. To know Sylvester is to know one heck of a crazy cat. One minute being lazy and sleeping around, the next having a bite to eat, then running over to tackle Whiskers or fight with Tabby, then sitting next to them on the couch as though he's buddies with everyone, and certainly going through his sporadic spurts of unbelievable energy running from room to room to room and around again. The things he gets into, the mischief he causes, and the scenarios I swear that he convinces the other cats to get into. If he ain't the problem, then he's gotta be the instigator.

So the morning of the vet visit I get the pet carrier that is his (yes I have 5 carriers - 1 for each cat) and get a small blanket put into it. He really had no clue what was going on until I turned to face him and gave him that subtle look of ... "come here buddy..." If there is one thing the cats hate as much as when I have given them a bath in the past its getting them into the carriers to go to the vet. (Although Porkey will often walk into a carrier just to lay down and sleep if I happen to leave it sitting somewhere with the door open. Hmmmm....)

The whole way from walking out the apartment door, out to the car, and then the whole drive into the vet office....non-stop meowing. "Help me, help me, help me!" I am sure he's screaming. Even in the vet office as we waited for our turn, he was still talking. Which was interesting as we were the only ones in that morning and no other animals were waiting for their turn. And he was talking! If there were any other people waiting with their pets, he'd be more quiet. But when it's only him, yap yap yap yap!

Watching him as the veterinarian checked him out was one of the most hilarious things I have ever seen. The vet guy wanted to do all the things that are normally done, and Sylvester was not wanting to sit still. If he was forced to sit still, he had the look of "oh boy, geez, this is embarassing!" The look he had on his face as he was being examined and given his shots was just hilarious and priceless. Often I had to literally either turn around or cover my mouth to keep from laughing so hard.

After he was given the green light of health and we left, he was nearly as vocal on the way home. He probably thought we were going to visit another vet person or something. He really didn't seem to catch on where we were going or ending up until I opened the apartment door, set the carrier down on the floor and opened the door for him to come out. The magical transformation then took place.

He goes from being the seemingly helpless, vulnerable and victimized cat being taken to the vet for a *routine exam* to walking out of the carrier into the apartment among the other cats to walking with a strut. Walking with pride. Walking with his nose held up and not talking at all. As if to say "Yep, I'm back. I'm strong, I'm healthy. I'm better than the rest of ya cats. I'm awesome.

And I didn't cry at all."

this is my dream

This is a news story I came upon that I have taken to heart. It's what I would love to do in my life, what I can only hope to accomplish. So many unwanted cats around that no one is interested in because of age, illness, or disability. Ones that can not be adopted out at a shelter, or they wouldn't be simply because people would not be interested in a cat like that.

People spend so much time looking for "perfection" that they lose the sight and the desire to save a life. Everything and everyone in the world deserves the chance to live a happy life, even those that are considered "imperfect."

I would love to open a facility like this in my local area, but the chances of doing so are slim. It takes money to open such a place. It takes a physical location (facility and space) to open such a place. And then it would take constant financial support to keep the facility going. I am working 2 jobs as it is just to keep the life that I have. So the chances of this ever happening for me are slim.

But its a dream I hold onto.

~Jason

Tabby’s Place: Where Unwanted Cats are Most Loved
By Joey Wahler
April 23, 2008
RINGOES, N.J. -- It’s where cats’ apparently hopeless endings on death row become hopeful futures in a feline paradise.

At Tabby’s Place, 99-percent of the cats are rescued from being put to sleep at other shelters. The facility provides a rare combination of adoption center, medical facility and Hospice for terminal cats, all manned by volunteers.

“We certainly have, for the most part, the most unwanted cats,” said Jonathan Rosenberg, founder of Tabby’s Place. “In the sense that they were pretty much all on the euthanasia list at shelters. Which is about as hopeless as it gets.”

In its five years of existence, Tabby’s Place has adopted about 450 cats, many aging, sick, diseased or handicapped. Those unclaimed live full, happy lives here, despite their shortcomings. We met a very spry 19-year-old, named Hillary, who jumped from an office desk to the floor and back, more closely resembling a far younger cat.

A cutie named Bellis, born with non-functional eyes, was nonetheless cuddling with a volunteer. No cats are more unwanted, yet none are more loved than at Tabby’s Place. The facility is spacious, immaculate, and cat-friendly throughout.

“When you come in and look, everything looks really nice,” Rosenberg said during our recent tour. “You see almost all the cats, there’s nothing hidden or nasty. And where the cats live, a lot of specialized materials and ventilation, to minimize diseases and smells.

“I mean, if you go back in those rooms, they almost never smell despite being filled with cats.”
If this sounds like a special cat shelter, well it is -- sort of. Actually, though, it’s called a cat sanctuary.

“Well, the purpose of calling it a sanctuary is that we figured this is a place of refuge for cats,” Rosenberg said. “So we don’t turn cats away due to age, or almost any disease. And if a cat doesn’t get adopted, they can spend their life here.”

Tabby’s Place is a cat palace. Rather than cages, suites are the norm, viewable through glass in the lobby. Instead of mere index cards listing each cats’ name, as at most shelters, cards with color photos of each cat identify those in a particular suite.

The suites have plenty of cat furniture for lounging, featuring high points for climbing, cubby holes for hiding, and blankets for warming.

A long hallway has a line of suites on one side and a row of corresponding, enclosed outdoor patios across the hall, one patio across from each suite. Cats can go back and forth at their discretion, traveling through a tube that extends across the top of the hallway, connecting each suite to its patio.

“The tubes are clear, so we can see what’s going on in them,” Rosenberg said, as a cat lounged inside one such tube, preferring to be neither indoors nor out, but somewhere in between. “And they also have an access door because some cats like to hide in there, especially come pill time,” Rosenberg joked.

During our visit, several cats were relaxing outdoors, enjoying a sunny, mild day on the patios. Among them was Dusty, whose gray fur was largely shaven off when his cancer recently returned.

The patios are enclosed by transparent Plexiglass, providing cats both security and a scenic view of a spacious rear yard, part of which houses a cat cemetery.

Rosenberg and his wife, Sharon, founded this facility with their own money, honoring their late cat, Tabby. He died of cancer at age 15 in 1999. Grants have since helped, but now most funding here comes from donations.

Tabby’s death caused Rosenberg to examine his life and priorities, he says. He pictured himself on his death bed, imagining what he’d want to do in life that he hadn’t already.

“I thought, you know, if I don’t do something for unwanted cats, I would really feel sorry lying there on my deathbed,” he said. “So I did this in Tabby’s honor.”

Tabby’s Place is typically maxed out at 100 cats. As Rosenberg moves from room to room, he calls out the names of various cats, amazingly appearing to know each one’s name off-hand.

The only cats not accepted here are those that are FIV positive, have feline leukemia, or are uncontrollably aggressive. Some take medication to control their behavior, such as one that’s on -- believe it or not -- Proxac.

An expansion is planned, including a new building. That’s further proof that Tabby’s Place is doing its job of honoring its namesake.

“Someone said they could picture Tabby up in heaven, looking down, saying, ‘That’s my people. I’m proud of them,’ ” Rosenberg said. “And I can see that.”

(story courtesy http://zootoo.com/)

(Visit Tabby's Place online at http://tabbysplace.org/)

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poll pondering

last week's question: "what pets do you have (or wish you could have)?"
results:
"dog" - 1 vote

my thoughts:
I've had nearly all the pets that were listed. I would love someday to have a dog again, however it would depend on 2 factors: living someplace where having a dog would be allowed, and it would have to get along with the cats I already have. Because I am not about to trade away any of the cats just to get a dog; the cats are family and they're staying.

Would I ever get another cat? Unless I move to a place that is much larger and it was a cat that would get along well with the five I have already, I think I'll stay with the ones I have. One thing I am not is someone who is one of those crazy pet people who takes in more than they can handle.

I have had rabbits before, as told in my entries about my sad experience last fall giving them up. I would be interested in having a rabbit again someday, but as with the scenario of getting a dog...it'll have to wait until I move to a larger apartment or a house where I'd have the room.

I still have a gerbil that I've had for about 2 years. Which is about as long as some of the longest that I have ever had hamsters before. Aside from Whiskers (the original) that I got when I was just a tiny kid, my next pet that was "mine" were a pair of siberian dwarf hamsters that a ex-girlfriend got for me back in 1998. Since then I've had countless hamsters at various times. They don't always live long as some have only lived with me a few days or a few weeks before they've gotten sick and passed away, while others have lived a full year or two or more. Hamsters are cute and cuddly and were always fun to have. This gerbil that I currently have is my first experience with one of those. It's sad that I can't really ever hold him because he WILL bite my finger. And he has drawn blood before doing it. So if I ever looked at getting another one in the future, I'd hope to get one that wouldn't be apt to bite. Or at least hope it wouldn't.

I would gladly get another fish or more fish again. Living downstate a few years back I had DOZENS upon DOZENS of tiny tropical fish at once, which led to my purchasing of a 55-gallon aquarium tank setup. Which I still have, it's just in storage. Since Goldie died a few weeks ago, whom I've had for about 7 or 8 years, I've been interested in getting more fish or another fish or something. Only problem is, the area I live in has no pet stores. Only "pet supply aisles" in local retailers. Thus I'd have to travel back downstate to actual pet stores when I am ready to have a tank setup again. Just not sure if I'd go for another goldfish, back to tropical fish, saltwater fish, or something else. I'd even consider a beta fish that look so pretty, but I've not had good luck with those in the past.

Hopefully I will come up with a new poll question sometime later today and get it posted up. Thank you to the one person who bothered to vote on the recent poll question!

support the ASPCA and fight animal cruelty

American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals - learn more from the ASPCA on how to fight and prevent animal cruelty.

PetFinder.org - search for a wonderful pet to adopt.

Pet-Abuse.com - resource of current and ongoing reports of animal cruelty.

remembering Sandy the dog

From people who know me and people who have read my blogs, many would think that I am a cat-only person or that I am somehow anti-dog. Which is definitely not the case, and I will explain why.

Growing up when I was about 2 years old, me and my older sister (by about 1-1/2 years) each got a kitten. My sister named her little grey tiger Daisey and I named my orange tiger Whiskers. Over the next few years my cat later became sick and had to be put to sleep. So we were left with Daisey as the family cat. As we got older, someone living over near to where my grandparents' farm was in the next town over was looking to give a dog away. It was something that we decided could fit into the family scenario, so we got the black lab. While me, my sister, mom and dad were all happy to have her, Daisey the family cat was not as much willing to share in this creature's presence. Thus she resorted to spending as little time as possible where we were living, and began to take up residence across the road at the neighbor's house. Luckily they were friends of the family, and their daughter was actually best friends with my sister.

While the black lab was otherwise a terrific dog to have and me and my sister really enjoyed having her, she was a lot to handle. Breaking loose from her tie and leash outside and wandering around off the property. It soon got to the point where we didn't feel that she was going to be a dog that we could handle and take care of. One day my dad got up and took the dog away and came back empty handed. Me and my sister didn't quite understand this and became very upset. It wasn't until we grew older that we began to understand why our parents had to give her up and that my dad actually took her to a married couple that lived in the area. Much to my surprise it was going to live with a young woman who was a classmate of mine - and someone that I had a big crush on through most of our K-12 education years. So I knew she (the dog) would be in good hands. And I was able to hear further stories of what a terrific dog she was, including driving by their place on my way out to the other town. As a side note, Daisey returned home when she realized that that big black dog was no longer living with us and she felt safe to be around.

Family circumstances changed when my parents became divorced, and me and my sister remained living with our mom while dad moved out to live in town. As a present for me and my sister, he got us a puppy. Unfortunately because it was not something that could live with us at our mom's, the dog was going to live with dad and we could see it whenever we visited and spent time with dad.

Sandy was a golden retriever and was a terrific dog. I still remember when Sandy was just a little tiny puppy that dad had a box that was made into a bed for her, and as she got older and grew it was funny to look at this little tiny box that she used to fit in as a puppy. Further family changes were made when my mom remarried, and we moved from where we had been living to a different town nearby. After a bit of preparation, dad built a small house for himself where we had been living (as mom, the stepdad, me and my sister moved with the trailer that we had been living in). As it was, the lot of land was part of the family farm that my dad and grandfather were involved in, so my grandparents were less than a quarter mile down the road in the farm house.

Sandy was technically me and my sister's dog, and while she was living with dad, she spent most of her time down the road at our grandparents. Dad would be off to work, so Sandy would spend time down where the grandparents were home most of the day as they didn't work. I would get to see her whenever I was out there to visit my grandparents and dad. And also to watch my grandparents' satellite TV that my dad got for them when my grandfather became ill with cancer.

One night I was out to their house watching wrestling on television and eating a pizza. I really, really did love Sandy, and I tried to get her to understand the idea of not begging for food when people were eating. So as I was eating my pizza, she kept hanging around me as I sat on the couch wanting a handout. I will foreever regret the moment that I was becoming frusted that I turned to her sitting there and almost yelled at her to go away as I was eating, and to go lay out on the porch area where her nighttime sleeping place was. She tucked her tail under her and wandered out to the porch. For the rest of the night while I watched wrestling it was in silence. As I got ready to leave and drive back home, I walked out on the porch and looked over at Sandy. She laid down and only looked up with her eyes at me. Because this all took place several years ago - circa 1995 or 1996 - I can't remember many of the details as it was one of those tragic moments that happen in a person's life that you end up trying to push out of your mind and forget. I may have went over and patted Sandy's head, or I may not have. I may have just stood there before walking out, or I may have said something like "Sorry for yelling" or "you just gotta not beg, Sandy". Whether I made ammends with Sandy before I left for yelling or not, I can not remember to this day. What happened afterward is what has remained in my mind since then and will for the rest of my life.

It may not have been the next day, but it happened at least before the next day that I was going to go out to the farm to visit the grandparents, visit dad, watch tv and/or play with Sandy. I was at home where me and my sister were still living with mom and the step-dad. Dad called one day when I was home alone and gave me terrible news. He wasn't home, but the grandparents were. Sandy must have been walking between dad's house and the grandparents' farmhouse and she wasn't being too careful about walking along side the road. A car came along and Sandy got in the way and...... From what my dad said, the lady stopped by and asked if the dog belonged to my grandparents. From what he said, the lady gave no indication of sympathy or concern for having stuck and hit the dog. She was concerned about who was going to take care of the dent in her car.

I was terribly saddened by the news of what happened to Sandy, and was incensed and struck by the blatant lack of respect and compassion from this lady who had struck and killed our dog with her car. And she was concerned about getting her car fixed????

I know that she did and someone else might suggest why wasn't Sandy tied up to begin with. Living in the city, in town, there are logical rules for having a dog that is outside tied up so it doesn't run away, get into traffic, or get into your neighbor's yard. Even just on the outskirts going out of town, that still makes sense because there is a lot of traffic entering and leaving the city. But until you live out in the country - and I do mean out in the country - you learn that many of the rules and laws that exist are bent and not always followed. If I lived in town where the population is crowded, sure the dog would have been tied up or kept inside. But living out in the country where there are few cars far and between, and at some points no neighbors or houses for miles, then it's just a way of life for people to do things the way they do. So the argument about having the dog tied up is beyond acknowledgement or even consideration.

When my sister returned home that day, I had the sad duty of telling her what happened. I had only gotten as far as to say that dad called..... Sandy was out in the road.... a car came along, and .... before I could say any more, she could tell by the tears coming down my face what the bottom line was and she broke down.

For the next week or so I went out and visited the spot were dad had burried her. It's been nearly 12 or 13 years, but I still think of Sandy in the same way. I know that I could not have taken back the incident of the car hitting her and killing her instantly. There is no way that I could have known that it was going to happen, and no one could have predicted it. But what has haunted me since then is the way things were left. The very last time that I ever saw Sandy it involved me yelling at her for begging for a piece of my piece of pizza. The last time that as it turned out I would have seen her it was watching her walk off feeling ashamed that her owner yelled at her and then laying down on her blanket feeling like she wasn't a good dog.

It can be the way that life was meant to go. But if I could go back in time, I would have at the least not yelled at her and made sure to have left that night on a better note.

The whole thing has helped me try to become the pet owner that I am today. Things can happen day to day, and can change in an instant. I could leave and come home and one of my pets could have died while I was away. This is something that can happen to anyone at any time for any reason.

I'll admit it: my cats can annoy me quite often. They get into things they shouldn't, they knock over stuff and they break stuff. Track litter across the floor, beg for my food when I eat, and they pester me until I fill up their dishes with their own food when they become empty. Sometimes I may find myself asking them "what are you thinking?!?" or "hey ____, don't be such an ass!" when one cat may be picking on or fighting with one of the other cats. The idea of Sandy and how things were left have forever been implanted in my mind and in my heart. My cats may do things to upset me or bother me, but I don't leave things like that. Ever. If I am leaving to go somewhere, before bedtime at night, or even simply if I am not leaving or going to bed, I will quickly make ammends by picking up the cat, cuddling with it, holding it, and go crazy giving it kisses and dancing around until the cat itself wants to be put down.

My cats themselves may think that I get angry at them at times when they do crazy things and that sometimes that I get really upset with them. But I never want them to be left with that impression and even if I discipline them, I try to leave them with the idea that they are still good cats and that I love them dearly.

Because you never know what can happen. When something can be taken away from you in an instant without warning. Something you love dearly can be taken away from you and it could be life's plan on how it is meant to go. Thus it turns into the idea of how you want things to be remembered and how they are left.

Yelling at Sandy the last time that I saw her has forever and will forever haunt me. But it's helping me to become a better pet owner that I am today.

RIP Sandy.

poll pondering

Question: "Do you support my decision to move non pet blog posts to a private blog?"
Results:
"Yes": 1 vote (33%)
"No": 2 votes (66%)

Nearly 2 weeks has passed after some very interesting circumstances and incidents, as well as one very controversial blog.

On many different levels you learn a lot about life. Not only about yourself, but just whom is a friend, whom is an enemy. Whom you can trust, and whom you can't.

I've been accused of writing a poor blog. I've been accused of writing about only 2 things - pets and work - and that my life should involve more than that. I've been accused of just plain being an uninteresting and unexciting person.

My responses?

• I have been told before that my writing has been funny, insightful and entertaining.
• I have blogged about other things in the world other than pets and work as my life does consist of more than just those two features.
• If I am such an uninteresting and boring individual, why is it that my blog has been a destination for those who are: non-friends who don't even have an interest in being friendly to me in person, and don't even have the decency to say hello and acknowledge my presence should they walk by me at a movie theater lobby while going to see a movie like "Harry Potter".

So after pondering the grand total of 3 votes that were cast, I have come to 2 conclusions:

1. I can be happy that I have one person out there who is understanding enough and is enough of a friend to show support in taking time to vote 'yes'.
2. I can be amused that there are at least 2 people out there with nothing better to do than to flame for the sake of flaming.

Thanks for voting! And keep on reading more .... Tales from the Cats! Meow!

"Pet Tails": up or down

My cats are curious things. When we were living out in the country on my dad's farm, they were exposed to all sorts of wildlife. I used to have a few bird feeders sitting outside in view that the cats all LOVED to watch. Sylvester in particular has a cute habit of trying to talk back to the birds. He hears their "chirps" and... I dunno, maybe he's not talking "to" them...but he's doing something when he lets out a series of quick little meows that he disguises as chirps. Its hard to explain, but its kind of like a longer drawn out 'meow'. The other cats enjoyed the birds as well.

Living in town where we are at, there isn't this opportunity to watch the wildlife. Although there is a different kind of "wildlife" to be seen and heard. Sometimes then the cats are bored they'll simply watch the traffic outside. Sometimes the occasional black bird will fly by and land on a light pole or something. Or the tree that is pretty close to the building that many birds will sit on. (And subsequently use the cars below as landing pads for their...well...you know....).

But another thing that makes the cats curious is noises within the building. Typically we don't hear any noises from any of the other tenants, except for the couple that lives upstairs. I won't mention them by name, but I'll refer to them as "A&M". A&M seem to have a bit more of their youth in them than I do. (Hey, I'm old at 28?!?!) Thus some weekends they may have a small party of sorts up stairs and I can hear the occasional traffic up and down the stairs in the hallway or voices outside when they go out for a cigarette. Of A&M, "A" has a habit of wanting to stomp up and down the stairs. I'm not sure why. Maybe he's just one of those people who goes up and down stairs with authority. And needs to make stomping sounds at the same time.

Unless I have the television on, its quite audible when they are making their movement up and down the stairs in the hallway. Slamming their apartment door upstairs, or the door to the building downstairs. And when I don't have my own television going or radio on or something, and they are doing this, my cats will often sit up straight... Look around.... Stare over at the apartment door to our place... And just stare. They seem to be intelligent enough to figure out that the noises of "the people" in the hallway are from up above us as they tend to look up at the top of the door as though they're looking up. Although I could be wrong in that they can't see much up over the couch, and thus they're simply trying to look at the door.

So it will be funny when I am sitting on the couch late night having supper and watching something on DVR from earlier in the evening. Cats will be laying around or sleeping wherever they are. Although if I am eating then chances are a few certain ones (Sylvester, Porkey, and Whiskers) will be sitting in various spots on the floor in front of me, watching me eat in hopes that I will throw them something. Then we may hear those wonderful, oh so gracious, polite and well mannered A&M.....(pause)..... make their presence known by slamming doors, stomping up and down the stairs in the hallway, and so forth.

The cats will look over at the door and up wondering what the hell is going on. And I have to tell them that if they're wondering that about A&M, then they should be looking down....

one cat, two cat, orange cat, grey cat

No, this isn't quite a tale from Dr. Seuss. Far from it, in fact.

Before living where I am now, I was living out in the country on part of my dad's farm. See, the farm became my dad's when my grandfather died in 1995. After completing UMO in 2002 I was needing a place to live due to personal circumstances, and my dad offered up part of the farm where he had a small house that he was not using.

When I say out in the country, I mean out in the country. The rate of traffic is about 1 car/truck about every 2 hours. Sometimes maybe 2 cars in the same hour! Potato fields all around, farm houses, barns, ... the whole works. So where I was living there right in back of the house was a small patch of woods with a small stream flowing through it. Right nearby was a 'potato house', or some long structure for a different farmer that they used to house.... duh, their potatoes!

Unfortunately it was the type of setting that the low-life people in the world would look for when they are wanting to drop their animal off out in the country because they no longer want it. Excuse me, let me rephrase that. They abandon the animal. That seriously pisses me off - you do not abandon an animal. If you don't have the capability to take care of it, find it a suitable and loving new home, or you take it to the animal shelter.

Well, since I was on the farm, my dad still used the land partly to farm and the yard area right by the house I was staying in for some of his farm work. So when I talk about living on the farm, I was getting about as hill-billy as it can get. Tractor parked there. At times he had his combine machine. And assorted piles of timber and lumber, tools and other things sitting around. It was...the farm. So one day my dad mentions that he saw a cat out around the yardway that he knew was not one of my five. Was it a neighbor's cat? Nope. It was a stray. So for several days I kept an eye out for this kitty, only seeing him randomly at odd times of day. Each time I saw him around the yard, I would attempt to approach him in hopes of being able to take him into the shelter where he would have a safer place to live. (The time of all this was later in the fall, so we're talking about September or so and thus it was getting closer to the change in weather.)

Luckily because of my regular volunteer work with the animal shelter, I borrowed a safe-trap in hopes of capturing the kitty. After several days of intense waiting and watching, I finally got him tricked into the cage with a small dish of dry food. Unfortunately it was later at night, and I wouldn't be able to take him in until the next day. So what was I to do? At the time I had an old rabbit hutch pen sitting outside for my rabbits that I had at that time. Some how I was able to safely allow him out of the trap and into the hutch. I just let him cool off his jets in there overnight as he was very irritated at this point. The next morning I was encountering the problem I had not quite thought of: how to get him out. I could open up the back door on the rabbit pen, but he would almost certainly run away. So, using my suave clothing get-up that I use when I give my own cats a bath (long pants, several layers of shirts) I carefully opened up the door, managed to get the kitty on the scruff of the neck and yelled to my dad to open up a cat carrier of mine so I could put him in. Then we were off to the animal shelter.

At the shelter he was much more calm, finally being out of the carrier and rabbit pen. Over the next few weeks he actually became quite a friendly cat around me, and I was hoping that he would get adopted out. Unfortunately there came a time when several cats were having to be put down for health reasons and behavior reasons. He was among those selected. I don't know what it was in me, but I managed to convince the manager to allow the cat to have one more chance and for him not to go down. She agreed and the kitty was spared.

Want a happy ending? Here it is. That same kitty was adopted out no more than a week or two later.

A day or two later after first taking him in, my dad mentioned again that he saw a cat around that was orange in color. I looked surprised and tried to tell him that I took the cat we managed to capture into the shelter. Another time or two my dad mentioned this to me again. I was almost getting frustrated to the point of not understanding this at all. I took the cat into the shelter....how is my dad seeing a cat that looks the same around in the yard? Furthermore, I was not seeing this "second" phantom cat at all!

The answer to it all was that it was not the same cat - it was a different cat. I was able to confirm this when a week or two later I finally observed him. I saw the phantom cat! My dad wasn't crazy after all! (haha). Basically the same routine went on as with the first cat. Except this time I just took him in the cage into the shelter, instead of trying to transport him to a cat carrier or something.

I thought it was very strange and very unusual to find basically two idential orange looking cats that were probably about the same age in the same time frame of only a week or so. I thought for sure that they may have been a pair that were dropped off in the countryside, and they managed to stay together. Hopefully that was the end of it all, right? Nope....

Almost exactly a year later my dad and I noticed .... a grey cat that was hanging around. This time though it was closer to winter and was beginning to get quite cold and chilly out. I managed to catch him similarly to the first orange cat, later in the evening. Unfortunately I had no place to put him outside cuz it was cold, and I certainly couldn't bring him inside. BRINGING IN A STRAY CAT IN A CAGE INTO MY HOUSE WHERE MY FIVE CATS WERE?? I'd be surely asking for hell to open right up and swallow me up. So the best option I could do was put the cage on the porch, but managed to cover it up with as many blankets as I could afford. Next morning, took him and the cage into the shelter.

Now, is THAT the end of the story? Noooooo......

It wasn't very long at all until I began to notice ANOTHER stray cat hanging around. Going at this rate, take a guess what color this one was? If you guessed grey again, that's right. The previous year there were 2 orange cats, and now this year there were 2 grey cats.

However, when I brought this 2nd grey cat into the animal shelter in one of my cats' carriers, I got to the shelter and was about to open up my passenger side car door to take the carrier out when.....the carrier door flew open and out jumped the cat. Holy ****. How in the world was I going to get the kitty out now? The shelter manager came out and she actually got in the car in hopes of caputring the kitty. Unfortunately when she went to open the door on the other side after first being unsuccessful, the grey cat decided to make a break for it. Darted out of my car, around the car, right over to the shelter building and around it to the back and then out of sight.

Despite searching for some time that morning, I was never able to locate the cat. Not sure he was ever picked up, so he has been living out in the woods or area out behind the shelter facility since then.

That fall of the grey cats was the fall of 2006. By the fall of 2007, I was then living in my current apartment in downtown Presque Isle. I've asked my dad if he's seen any more stray cats hanging around the farm again, particularly in pairs of two. But the last I asked him he hadn't seen any. So in a way that's a good thing, because it'd mean that there probably weren't any stray cats hanging around. Otherwise isn't a horrible thing, but its comforting to know that there'd be that many fewer strays around that didn't have a home.

It is a sad situation to find a stray cat that someone has abandoned out in the country like that. As odd as it all was, and as coincidential as it all was, it was just so truly unique and incredibly strange that there were 2 orange cats one fall and then 2 grey cats the next fall. It really did appear as though each set was perhaps the same age and probably were each brother-brother pairs. Someone can't tell me that it was all just a coincidence that they showed up like that. Someone had to have dropped them off. However, I also believe that they were attracted to the farm because... I dunno, maybe animals like that can tell where there are other animals around. And on a hardly used country road like that with sparse houses located around and potato fields occuping the lands, my cats surely made a presence known.

Even if I only was able to save one cat's life and helped him find a loving home to get into and not have to spend it out in the wild where he might not have made it, I'd like to think that I did accomplish something.

the totally true tale of Damien the Cat

(Disclaimer: while this is a true story, it involved a cat that was not my own. Primarily this is for the occasional story of something involving my own cats, occassionally I may drop in a blog about something involving a different cat. As I will now explain one....)

If there's one thing that people hopefully know of me, its that I am an animal person. Have been ever since,...well...whenver, I guess. But approaching my birthday in June of 2004 I was trying to think of how I wanted to spend my birthday that Friday. One of the things that came to mind was volunteering at the local animal shelter. Something I had been wanting to do for some time, but just never got around to it. So I made it my plan to volunteer that morning.

(On a side note, that day which was actually the day before my birthday on that Thursday was when I first volunteered. It was also unfortunately memorable as it was the day that a relationship I had been in with someone ended that same day. So on the same day, a day before my birthday, I began what would become regular volunteer work while something else dropped out of my life. Go figure...)

Skipping most of the backstory and other tales, I'll skip ahead to the one day that this entry is truly about. I was in the process of cleaning one of the adoption cat rooms that had become my staple. Open up the cage, let the kitty (or multiple kittens, depending on the cage) out, they exercise and run around and do whatever cats do while I clean the cage, set it back up with a blanket and food and water and litter box, and then finally return the kitty to the cage. Things were going along until I got to this cage of the cat that would become known as Damien.

(For the record, I was the one who gave him the name but I can not remember positively if this was before or after the following incident.)

Damien was just being his regular playful self that I had not had any problems with in the days or weeks before since he was moved up front to the adoption room from the holding room out back. When I reached down to pick him up and put him back in his now-clean cage, I apparently caught him at the wrong moment. Call it that frightening surprise that animals and even people encounter where they're suddenly surprised and the reaction is fight-or-flight. Damien, well, he wanted to fight.

Immediately he began the low growl that indicated he was very, extremely ticked off. Holding him carefully I was attempting to put him back in his cage when he became increasingly aggitated. Fearing he would turn around and attempt to slash me with his claws or bite me, I took the initiative to hold him right up close to me. Heck, its something obvious you learn watching MMA bouts on television where they get the opponent close enough to them that they don't have the room to offer up any offense. So that's what I was doing here - avoiding the chance for the cat to go on the attack. In response, he dug his claws into my sweatshirt I was wearing.

Dilemma, dilemma. I had my right hand that was free now holding onto the back of the neck to control him, but he was not letting go of my sweatshirt. Only way I could pull him off would be to expose my vulnerability and give him the opening for an attack. I ended up making the wrong decision....

As soon as my right hand let go of the scruff of the back of his neck, he immediately wanted to fight whatever it was that was holding him. So he whipped around as I held him in my left arm and went after it. My right hand.

Basically what he did was latch his paws around my wrist and forearm, back paws came up and latched into my arm as well, and he began to bite at what he could. Which was my middle finger. (Go figure!)

Immediate and intense pain. All I will say about this is that it felt like tons of tiny hooks going into my skin and wanting to pull it right off my arm. I was finally able to get him off my arm despite the pain that was increasing. Seeing as how I could not pick him up in this state, I intended to leave the room to get the control gloves that they keep at the shelter out back for the problem animals that are difficult to deal with. What was strange is that as I backed out of the room across the floor...Damien was legitimately stalking me across the room. It was though I was a tiny mouse that he was going in for the kill. This cat was pissed off.

Unable to even get the control glove on because my right hand and lower forearm was both in pain and bleeding heavily, I had to get one of the employees to go in and put the cat back in his cage. So the guy took the glove for me, told me to take care of my arm, and he went to put the cat in the cage. The "higher ranking" employee that was in, immediately came and found me in the bathroom as I was washing off the blood and heavinly INSISTED that I go to the ER immediately. They would finish the cat room for me and I should go right to the hospital. Which I did.

As long as the hospital wait was in the ER, it went simply like this. Police officer showed up to take a statement as it was "an animal bite" - something that has to be reported to the police, waited for a long time, and as soon as the actual doctor came into the ER room I was stashed in he took no time in barely looking at my hand in determining it superficial wounds that he would just bandage up. ARE YOU ****ing KIDDING ME? My hand and right arm hurt like hell and it was covered in scratched including a few deep wounds!! So in the end I was sent home with a heavily bandaged right hand and lower forearm.

I was actually scheduled to work that day, so after leaving the ER I went to work to let them know I wouldn't be able to make it in. The boss at the time Liz wasn't in yet, so I waited till she arrived. As I told her the quick version of what happened, she began to smile and almost laugh - and so was I. After it all happened, it was almost comical to think of how crazy this cat had behaved. Although the injury I was dealing with was telling a slightly different story.

Because of the attack, Damien was put into quarantine for cautionary measures. Even though he had attacked me as such, I tried to stick up for him with the shelter manager in hopes that he might get a chance. But in the end I had to concede, that if he did this to me....I wouldn't want him attacking a little child like this and potentially do more damage. So he was eventually put down. But it makes for a point that can relate to other aspects of life. One person's experience with the cat could have been a terrific one with him acting very lovable and an awesome little cat. (he was about a year old, by the way.) He could have been a total sweetheart the rest of his life and never acted like this again. But I unfortunately was the one who experienced his attack and desire to cause and inflict pain on me. Did I have confidence that he also had a sweet side? Sure did. But it was unfortunate that I was only able to experience this case of him acting negatively. None of it made him a sweet cat or a bad cat. Other volunteers could have had different experiences in handling him, or even if someone were to have adopted him. But animals are unpredicatable. And as much as I attempted to be friends with this little cat, he just didn't feel like it. Which is too bad. :(

So how did my injury go? It was fine for a day or two until it looked like it was going to need further treatment. What ended up happening is that I would require a series of doses of IV antibiotics. I opted for the option of....(squirm)....having an IV inserted into my right wrist that they left in and taped to my arm. Then once a day for the following WEEK...I went into the ER, was sat down by a machine, which over the course of 60-95 minutes slowly pumped antibiotics into my bloodstream. Let's just say that having an IV left in in the spot on my right wrist where it was.....was DIFFICULT and PAINFUL to endure. All in all, that was more painful than the actual attack by the cat!

This story was entirely true. Shelter employees can back it up, the police report on the animal bite exists, the medical records are there, and Liz could confirm that one day I came into work and showed her my bandaged up right hand and forearm and explained the quick version of this same story.

Not a very pleasant story by any means. And it goes to show that you have to be very careful to not startle animals.

"Pet Tails": popular Pork Chops

When I first got my cat Porkey it didn't take long before he was dealt one of his nicknames of "Pork Chop". Being a big kitty himself, and the fact that his name was now "Porkey". It was truly a matter of time. Short time.

So when I signed up last fall for this website called Zootoo.com in hopes of helping out my local shelter by earning points, part of the process could include adding your pets to your "profile" on the website. Not just listing your pets, but putting up pictures of them. Apparently, something I was not aware of, is that they have since created a photo-contest option they call "Pet Wars". This was a complete mystery until I dug around the website and found where this option is located.

Basically what happens is they present you with two randomly selected opposing photographs of pets of similar species. Dogs and dogs, cats and cats, fish and fish, etc etc. So if you select the cat option, you'll get two pictures of cats from users on the site. And below each option to click if you think "this pet is cuter." After you vote you go onto a next pair of photographs. So what happens with each vote? Each time your pet comes up in a "battle" in "Pet Wars" its like a contest. If your pet is picked as "cuter" then it scores "a win". If its not selected, then it earns a "loss". Thus, on your Zootoo page you can view your pets' current status. Each pet is listed with their site ranking (i.e. #10427 or #753 or something) and their respective win-loss record.

Four of my pets have scored ok. I don't have the numbers in front of me for all five, but they're all mostly about even with similar losses to the number of wins. One of my kitties is probably even rated with a few more losses than wins. It's all a matter of randomly drawn photo pairings. So realistically one of my cats that is an adult could be matched up with a photo of a tiny little kitten. Good or bad to think, but many people out there are automatically going to select the kitten over the adult. Heck, it happens in shelters with animal adoptions. People always come in wanting to see the kittens and consider adopting a kitten, while they are less inclined to check out the adult cats. WHY?! There is nothing wrong with an adult cat. However, this discussion is better saved for a different blog.

Four of my five cats are scored so-so on the site, except for one. Porkey. Currently at this moment I look at his profile on my page and it indicates his win-loss record is 30-9, which places him at No. 1590. Porkey??? Nothing against him at all cuz I love all my cats equally like parents love their child equally, but I would have thought that someone like Sylvester would have been doing the best as his picture is incredibly cute. So I figure it is a matter of luck-of-the-draw in the photo pairings that are created at random. AND...its a matter of people liking a particular photo of your cat. In other words, your pet is your pet but some photos of that pet make it look cuter at times.

In case your wondering what Porkey's photo is that I have up, here it is...

"Pet Tails": where is he?

Sylvester is realistically the youngest of my cats, and also (perhaps as a consequence?) he's also the most unpredictable. The other four most of the time I can predict many of their habits and routines and favorite things, but Sylvester is sometimes like.... He reminds me of that old-time child's toy of the windup box and the clown on a spring inside. Just when you think you know it's going to pop out, it waits and waits and then jumps out and surprises you. Similarly, Sylvester is just as full of surprises.

The cats and I moved from a smaller residence to our current apartment here, where - while not grand in size itself - is certainly bigger than where we last lived. Thus it has allowed for more places for the cats to be exploring and to make as their lounge spots. Porkey likes to habitat the right end of the couch. Tabby enjoys the cat bed usually placed on the bed after it's made. Athena enjoys the overturned clothes basket on top of a stack of storage totes that I have fitted with a blanet inside. Whiskers....he enjoys laying on the floor mats in the bathroom. Sylvester? He has a few and its hard to ever say for sure where he'll be.

Is he laying on top of the jungle-gym stand?

Is he laying in the bathroom on top of the toilet seat?

Is he laying on the blanket on top of the old television stand sitting right in front of one of the windows facing south (thus getting most amount of sunlight)?

Is he laying on top of my pillow?

Is he laying under the blankets on the bed?

Is he under the bed?

Is he stretched out relaxing in the bathtub?

Its hard to ever say. This very morning as my breakfast was cooking on the stove, I looked in the bedroom and noticed that I had failed to straighten up the blankets and sheets. I had time to do it, I thought. So I went to first begin with the unorganized corner of the bed nearest to the window in the bedroom and was about to straighten them up when I noticed....there was someone under the blankets.

A little black and white haired paw was sticking out from underneath the top blanket. Slowly lifting up the blanket to look under must have disturbed him as I was immediately greeted with a pair of wide open eyes and this quick yelp-like meow. That wasn't a pillow, that wasn't a fluff of blankets piled up. It was that cat food eatin', pillow hoggin', tub snorin', beggin' for ham, treat snortin', sufferin suckatash and tweety-bird huntin' Sylvester cat.

I just can never expect to know where to find him next. Kinda like "Where's Waldo?" but worse.

"Pet Tails": step in line to get wiped

Pet wipes. Certainly not something that you aim to purchase when going into a store to do shopping. It was certainly not on my “list” but last year sometime I had picked up a package of these pet care wipes that were at the impulse-section of a checkout at my local store. Heck, at the time I had my cats (still do), pet rats (since died), gerbil (still got) as well as others. Sure, I can use all the help I can get to keep them clean! However, after purchasing them they’ve sat in my bathroom on a shelf ever since. Unused. Unopened. Always noticed by its green color packaging material, but never quite got to the point of fulfilling my promise of trying them out to see if they do any good.

(I still have a bottle of scented cat shampoo that my mom had picked up for me on a trip down south like… a year or two ago?... that I have yet to use. Bathing my cats? That’s a whole different story altogether that deserves its own blog…)

This morning before work I was attempting to go to take my shower and get ready. However, as I passed into the bathroom I looked over at the bed in the bedroom and Sylvester was acting crazy like he always does. I was engaging in a conversation with him about the birds that were chirping on the street light just outside our windows (a pair of crows, btw) and he decided that he wanted to be picked up and held. So he wandered to the edge of the bed like he was going to jump up for me to hold him. Initially I was not going to, but I figured that I had a few minutes before I had to jump in the shower. But since he was not confident about jumping up from where he was sitting, he decided he wanted me to stand in front of him so he can do his thing where he stretches up my front, puts his paws basically up over my shoulder and expects me to pick him up. To understand this better: think of a little child reaching up to an adult in hopes that they’ll pick them up. So I picked him up and was cuddling with him as he did his crazy antics. But then… well….to save a few words, I could tell that he was a bit stinky and unclean. Ummmm….

So as I was brushing my teeth before getting in the shower I kept eyeing that green package of animal wipes. Sylvester, who was now wandering in and out of the bathroom, listened to me tell him that I should try some of those wipes on his bottom to clean him up. So when I was done brushing and I grabbed the package, I had to locate Sylvester sitting in the middle of the living room floor kinda in front of the couch. I eyed him, pointed my finger at him, and motioned for him to come here as I had something to show him. That’s all it took as I went into the bathroom and soon he came wandering in to see what treat he was getting. It was additionally funny because Whiskers wandered in thinking “Oh, Jay’s handing out treats! Oh yah!” Uh huh.

Coaxed Sylvester up on top of the toilet where he was at a good height. He had no idea what was going on until I had a wipe in my right hand, was holding down his shoulders with my left hand and began wiping all around under his backside.

I had to hold back the laughter.

When I was done, I threw the wipe in the trash receptacle beside the toilet and stood there. Sylvester didn’t run off immediately like I thought he would. He sat there on the toilet lid for a few seconds just kinda watching me. Eyeing me. Wondering what the heck he did to deserve having his butt wiped. Then he slowly jumped down off the toilet and began to saunter on out of the bathroom. I turned to watch him and nearly broke out in laughter again when I saw…. Whiskers and Porkey were sitting literally just inside the bathroom door watching. Sylvester made his way around them and out into the bedroom. Whiskers and Porkey remained sitting there wondering what was going on too. (Like there had to be an audience.)

“Ok… who’s next? Who wants their butt washed now?” I proudly asked them. Without a split second of hesitation, Whiskers and Porkey both took off out of the bathroom, into the bedroom and then out into the living room. No one was going to offer themselves up.

After my shower while I was getting my things together for work, I watched Sylvester sitting on one of the cats’ favorite places to lay in the living room in one of the windows. Stretched out he was enjoying the sunlight, and cleaning himself. (Did he not realize the shades were open and people outside could see him?!) I teased him about getting his butt wiped and if he was finding himself all fresh-n-clean now. Several times I got the cold, glazed stare back from him looking at me from across the room.

Hey, I wasn’t the stinky one.

"Pet Tails": my office-assistant helper

Porkey is always so helpful when it comes to organizing and picking up things....

"Pet Tails": play that music

This is how my cats get the party started when I am not at home....

"Pet Tails": firsts

Having five cats they make for five very different personalities. But all in all, there are also many similarities between them. In a way sometimes they feel like things are a competition between them because they know that there are four other cats other than themself, so they must be the first at something. Othertimes there are no competitions as one of the cats will just go and do something.

Here are some of the firsts that my cats get into:

First to get to the food dishes after I fill them up: Whiskers

First to check out the litter boxes after I clean/re-fill them: Sylvester

First to follow me into the bathroom when I go in to use the toilet/take a shower: Sylvester

First to let me know when the food dishes are empty: Tabby

First to come look for attention when I try to lay down in bed: Athena

First to freak out unexpectedly: Porkey

First to begin begging when I eat supper: Whiskers

First to come running when I go to cut ham: Sylvester

First to go and hide when company visits: Sylvester

First to come out and greet when company visits: Athena

First to over-eat themself silly: Tabby

First to go into a open cat carrier left on the floor: Porkey

First to chase the laser pointer on the floor: Whiskers

First apt to pick a fight with another cat: Whiskers