COPENHAGEN, Denmark There’s a rule of thumb in the archaeology world. When humans domesticate animals, they shrink (the animals, not the human.) But that’s not true of yours truly (meaning we kitties) and Viking cats.
The average dog has withered down about 25% from its wild ancestor the gray wolf since they teamed up with humans. But between the age of Vikings and today, we kitties have grown in size. Bite me, Fideaux.
Bitz-Thorsen Sifted through dozens of bags filled with dog, horse, cow to find cat bones from archaeological digs all over Denmark. The cat skulls, femurs, tibias, and other bones ranged more than 2000 years, dating from the late Bronze Age (3000 BC – 1200 BC) to the 1600s. Many of the remains came from Viking era mass graves. The bags of bones were a real score since kitty bones don’t show up at archaeological sites very often.
Bitz-Thorsen separated all the cat bones to see how Iron Age, Viking, and medieval cats differed from we modern kitties.
The study found that, unlike other domesticated animals that shrink over time, domestic cats have grown 16% over time. (Maybe in a few thousand years we’ll be elephant size. Woohoo. Look out wildebeests.)
Skulls from ancient and modern Danish house kitties show how cats have grown over 2000 years. (Viking cat skulls in upper right corner, modern cats lower right corner).
This study only looked at Danish cats, so it may not apply to feline brothers in other parts of the world. On the other paw, a similar 1987 study out of Germany also came to the conclusion that medieval domestic cats were smaller than we modern kitties.
Who Knows Why?
No one knows conclusively why we’ve expanded, but finer dining is the best guess. (Humans have gotten taller over the last few centuries for the same reason.)
Our feline ancestors, Near Eastern wildcats, hunted hard to bring home the bacon. So, when human communities appeared, we moved in cuz mice liked your crops and your trash. Sometimes your garbage had some tasty treats for us too. Eventually, we endeared ourselves so much, you humans fed us. Scorrrrrre.
So, better nutrition allows us to get bigger. Genes could contribute to our physical expansion project too.
So, a warning to all the pooches out there, in about 10,000 years, you’re going to be OUR prey. Until then…uh oh. Gotta go. Human’s opening a can.
About the author
JeffyJeffy BadBoy is a rescued kitten with a nose for news. His unique talent has qualified him to be the official journalist for Stupid Gravity Press. Follow Jeffy’s Daily Mews on Facebook and Instagram.
Patron Saint of Veterinarians, Rescuers, People of Color, Television, Hair Dressers & Trekkies
What do veterinarians, people of color, Trekkies and hairdressers have in common? In times of need they can all call upon St. Martin de Porres. He is one of the coolest saints around. The Dominican brother is recognized as the first black saint from the Americas.
Officially, he’s the patron saint of barbers, hair stylists, innkeepers, Mexico, black people, people of mixed race, Peru, poor people, public education, public health, and television (yes, the boob tube). He stands for interracial and social justice and racial harmony. (Certainly use his intercession with today’s racial strife.) People also invoke his name for protection from rats. Unofficially he represents veterinarians, Trekkies, holistic healers and people who are bullied.
Juan Martin de Porres was born 435 years ago today, on Dec. 9, 1579, in Lima, Peru. He was the illegitimate son of a woman of color (a freed Panamanian slave) named Ana Velázquez and the Spanish knight, Don Juan de Porres. Papa never married his baby mamma, and wasn’t proud that little Martin inherited his mother’s dark complexion. The “nobleman” abandoned his family three years later, after the birth of their daughter, Juana. What a guy! After Dad disappeared, poor Ana struggled to feed her kids by taking in laundry. Eventually Don Juan stepped up and sent his son to a primary school for a couple of years, after which 12-year-old Martin apprenticed as a barber.
As a trainee, he learned more than how to coif a mullet and sculpt a soul patch. In those days, barbers’ finely honed blades also opened veins for cozy sessions of bloodletting. Martin learned to perform surgeries, dig out ingrown toenails, lance boils, set bones, dress wounds, treat disease and compound medicine from herbs. The training gave him the ability to care for the sick and destitute without charging a fee.
Just like Mr. Spock, St. Martin de Porres was able to be several places at once.
When he turned 15, Martin entered the Holy Rosary Dominican Priory in his hometown. At that time, Peruvian law prohibited descendants of Africans and Indians from becoming full members of religious orders. So Martin wore the monastery’s habit and performed worked in the infirmary as a barber-surgeon as well working on the farm and performing menial tasks in the kitchen and laundry.
In and outside the convent, Martin became known for his miraculous cures; he treated noblemen and slaves alike without regard for their race or social status.
When he turned 24, Martin took charge of the friary’s infirmary, where he worked until he died. He opened a children’s hospital for kids living in the slums and the Orphanage of the Holy Cross. Eventually the Dominicans ignored the racial restriction and allowed Martin to take vows as a Dominican brother.
A Real Dr. Doolittle
St. Martin’s compassion wasn’t restricted to humans. He was a 16th-century Dr. Doolittle, with the ability to communicate with animals. Like St. Francis, Martin treated animals as if they were brothers and sisters. Only a Hannibal Lecter would chow down on his family, so Martin never ate meat. Centuries ahead of his time, the barber-turned-veterinarian treated sick and injured cats and dogs at his animal hospital set up at his sister’s home in the country. He also founded a shelter for stray pets.
While officially St. James the Greater, St. Eligius and St. Blaise are the patron saints of veterinarians, people with sick kitties and poopy pooches might want to have a conversation with Martin de Porres. After all, this guy was a practicingvet.
Of mice and Martin
Even potentially plague-carrying vermin benefited from St. Martin’s mercy. A mischief of mice set up housekeeping in the priory’s linen wardrobe. (And we know, nothing conveys the concept of “holy” like altar linens covered in mouse poop.) The monks wanted to poison the furry invaders, but St. Martin had other plans. Reminiscent of St. Francis’ negotiations with the killer wolf of Gubio, Martin simply promised not to promote the mice to Glory if they would relocate to a little den at the end of the garden. Martin even offered to cater their meals. Then, in a Peruvian version of the Pied Piper, he led Mickey’s cousins to their new digs. The mice stayed away from the linens, and Martin kept his part of the bargain.
Beam me up, Marty
Martin is the official patron saint of television and (appointed by me) unofficial saint of Trekkies. Stick with me on this.
While Martin wanted to serve as a missionary, this was not to be. But stories persisted describing Martin visiting those in need through bi-location (meaning he could safely fold clothes in the laundry in Peru while treating a patient in Algeria).
Five centuries before Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott was a gleam in Gene Roddenberry’s eye, Martin managed to transport himself around the globe. The word “television” means “vision from afar” in Greek. A man who bi-locates certainly represents that concept.
You might wonder if being in two places at the same time has something to do with those herbs he learned to compound in barber school. Probably not. The claims of his visitations came from the people he helped. Even though Martin never left Lima, people said the saint appeared to them in Algeria, China, France, Japan, Mexico and the Philippines.
Locked doors couldn’t keep Martin from caring for the sick. During an epidemic, sixty novice friars living in a locked section of the convent fell ill. Several of them reported seeing Martin pass through locked doors like Captain Kirk in the “Tholian Web.” These claims were even verified by monastery superiors.
In icons, St. Martin is usually depicted along with a cat, dog, and a mouse eating from the same bowl. He’s also associated with a broom (because of his love of manual labor), a crucifix, a rosary and/or a heart.
Nov. 3, 1639, Martin teleported from his corporeal body for the final time. He died of quatrain fever at his beloved Rosary Convent at the age of 59. The man who was rejected by society, and even his own father, was carried to his resting place by church prelates and noblemen. He was canonized by Pope John XXIII in 1962.
So next time you go to the vet, feel bullied, or watch a rerun of Star Trek, you might have a conversation with St. Martin de Porres. After all, he communicated with animals and bilocated to exotic places. He’s not likely to let a little thing like a grave come between him and someone in need.
IN THE MEWS: Flawed Sleep Study Says Women Prefer Sleeping with Dogs
By JeffyJeffyBadBoy, Feline Investigative Reporter
Feline journalist JeffyJeffy demands reevaluation of the recent sleep study.
Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Who is the best sleep partner for women? Spoiler alert: We kitties come in third.
A recent study, published in the Journal of the International Society of Anthrozoology, concluded kitties aren’t the best sleeping partners for women, but neither are human significant others. Who then? Fideaux. Can you believe it? Stinky, snoring, farting dogs. Humans come in second. I hear that noise and emissions come from them, too. There’s no accounting for taste. As an independent journalist, I am contesting the findings and demanding a fairer rating system.
The study, “An Examination of Adult Women’s Sleep Quality and Sleep Routines in Relation to Pet Ownership and Bedsharing”, surveys 962 adult American women about their relationships and their sleep, 57% shared their bed with a human partner, 55% sleep with at least one dog and 31% spend the night with at least one cat.
(And what’s that about? There are way more pet kitties than dogs in the U.S. Why don’t we get to hog the bed like dogs do? I think the results are skewed. Why did they interview so few cat owners compared to human owners and dog owners. As a side note, no animal knows more about sleep than cats. Sixteen hours a day, baby!)
The study evaluated the sleep quality of women sharing their bed with a cat, a dog and another human and asked, which species provides the best night’s sleep? (In the spirit of full disclosure, I sleep with my boss and she only complains a couple of times a night about me pouncing on her feet and biting her toes.)
The ladies told researchers dogs were less disruptive to sleep than human partners and they felt more protected by a dog. Cats were more disruptive than human partners they didn’t feel protected. (Weighing in at 10 pounds it’s not like we kitties can take down that cat burglar.)
According to the study, dog owners tended to go to bed earlier and get up earlier than those who only had cats. Duh. They had to get up early to take the dog for a pee. We kitties manage to take care of our “needs”. So who’s really disrupting sleep?
The study didn’t say anything about canine flatulence or cover-stealing. I think they need to look into that.
Wanna read the study?
“An Examination of Adult Women’s Sleep Quality and Sleep Routines in Relation to Pet Ownership and Bedsharing,” authored by Christy L. Hoffman, etal can be found at https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/08927936.2018.1529354
Stupid Gravity Press is thrilled to announce the release of the next children’s Christmas classic, The Christmas Dragon by Richard Hazlewood.
Snow-Wing was an ordinary dragon, living in a cave above a clearing. Like all dragons, when people first encountered the massive creature, they feared him. One day, he was called upon to do something mighty, something that would change not only his life…but human history.
The Christmas Dragon is the perfect book for young readers, aged 9-12 or for parents to share with younger children. Buy the paperback for only $7.99 or Kindle for $2.99 from Amazon.com.
What authors are saying about The Christmas Dragon
“Richard Hazlewood creates a sweet and simple fable for early readers in The Christmas Dragon. Anyone who thinks life lessons can’t be learned from a young dragon finding purpose from his encounter with an even younger Jesus will be converted by this gentle creature’s tale.” ~Carole Nelson Douglas, USA Today bestselling author of the Midnight Louie feline PI mysteries
“The Christmas Dragon blends Christianity and fantasy in a sweet retelling of the Baby Jesus and one of his most devoted followers.” ~Cat Rambo, author of The Tabat Quartet Series
About Richard Hazlewood
Richard Hazlewood has a Master’s Degree in Aerospace Engineering. He spent eight years in the US Navy operating nuclear reactors on submarines. Richard has written more than a dozen supplements for various RPGs including the award-winning The Space Patrol for Traveller. The Christmas Dragon is his first fiction book. He has two children and three grandchildren. He lives in Texas with his wife and three dogs. Visit him at www.xmasdragon.com
JeffyJeffy Bad Boy here. The cat writing human has been up to her nose in other projects, so I thought I’d help her with a recent assignment. Today is National Cat Day, so it’s a perfect time to talk about Cat Café. Not kind where you get coffee and cat hair. Cat Café is’s a cozy mystery by cat writer, Mollie Hunt, and the fifth book in the Crazy Cat Lady Mystery series.
Crazy cat ladies get a bad rap. Contrary to popular assumption, they aren’t usually certifiable, just eccentric. Just to be honest, I owe my short life to a “crazy cat lady’, so I’m on board. To celebrate National Cat Day, I’m interviewing Cat Café’s heroine, Lynley Cannon’s cat.
JJBB: Let’s start with your name.
DH:Hello, Jeffy Jeffy Bad Boy. (Stretch – yawn) Mrow-wow, now there is a name! I should ask you how you came by that lengthy designation, but oh, that’s right— it’s all about me. I am Dirty Harry, named not after the rough-and-tumble Clint Eastwood character but after my own penchant for dirt (I love rolling in it) and hair (my black and white tuxedo coat is very full and sometimes produces dreadlocks, at which time I am taken to the groomer, much to my humiliation and disgust.)
Dirty Harry Fast Facts
JJBB: Nice to meet you,Dirty Harry. How about some vital statistics.
DH: Color: Black and white with a “petticoat” of white around my hips.
Weight: 15 pounds
Age: Old enough to know better.
Favorite food: Chicken from the human table.
Favorite toy: Catnip pickle.
Favorite pastime: Sitting in my cardboard carton, sculpting the edge with my pointy white fangs.
Favorite cat companion: Little, the all-black female who plays with me and grooms my coat.
The amazing Dirty Harry
JJBB: How did you come to live with Lynley Cannon?
I am Lynley’s original, a stray who came and stayed, since I know a good thing when I find it. I have been with her since I was a strapping young tom, but now I am long in tooth and face, as we cats get in our advanced years.
JJBB: Does she have other cats or do you hang with neighbor cats?
DH: Lynley Cannon, the crazy cat lady, have other cats? Is that a joke? As of Cat Café, our most recent story, she has seven besides my illustrious self! Plus she is always bringing home extras that she calls “fosters.” Thankfully they have a room of their own where they are out of my way. Training a new member into the clowder is a tedious job, and since I am the oldest of the clan, the duty falls to me.
As to neighbor cats, our group is strictly indoors, with the exception of our back yard which is fully cat-fenced, keeping those pesky outsiders out. I had enough of strangers when I was stray.
JJBB: Tell me about yourself.
What can I say? (Rolls on back, exposing fluffy white underbelly) I’m wonderful, but you don’t have to take my word. Here is a scene from Cat Café where Lynley welcomes me on her bed:
(Cat Café, Chapter 12) …Dirty Harry stalked through the door with his thump-thump-thumping gait. He stumped up the set of carpeted pet steps at the end of the bed and arranged himself at my feet with a kitty sigh. The old boy could still jump if he needed to, but his arthritis was making it difficult so I’d bought the steps. At first he shunned them, but then he gave in and claimed them as his own like the true king he was.
I opened my book and started reading the first story. It concerned a ninja cat who rescued his person from certain peril, but I couldn’t concentrate. My mind was scampering from one thing to another like a kitten in a toy box.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
She really adores me, but she worries too much, as clearly demonstrated in the following passage:
(Cat Café, Chapter 24)…Harry lay deep in slumber by the steps, his paws twitching as if chasing some phantom prey. As I walked by, I studied the old boy. He had grown thinner lately, had lost much of his tomcat muscle. The black and white fur was a bit more unkempt, his face lengthened into that of a senior cat. He was still healthy, no sign of the dreaded kidney disease—yet. But I knew from my studies of feline geriatrics that if a cat lived long enough and didn’t succumb to something else, kidney disease would eventually take him. Still, cats were living longer than ever due to better food, veterinary care, and a lifestyle that kept them safe from danger. With that reasoning, Harry had many good years in his future. I ruffled the silky ears and received a small grunt in return.
She’s darned right I’ve got many good years left in me!
Mollie Hunt & Tinkerbelle, Registered Pet Partners
Life in Cat Café is More than Just Being Handsome
JJBB: What is your role in the book? How do you help solve the mysteries?
DH: In my capacity of clowder elder, my role is more supervisory than actual. I leave it to others to do the hands-on work. Tinkerbelle, the tiny black therapy cat, has been known to step in and save the day on occasion, as has Little. The new kitten, Mab, a purebred lilac point Siamese who Lynley rescued from a nefarious breeder, is showing signs of mental empathy far beyond the norm for our species. I have a feeling she has great things in her future. But the real mystery solver is Lynley Cannon herself. She may look human, but she is part cat, I am sure.
JJBB: Do you ever get into trouble or introduce a red herring? Personally, I like herring.
DH: Yum, herring. (Smacks lips) That reminds me, I could eat.
JJBB: Do you have a major part or do you keep the home fires burning and guest kitties get all the glory and excitement?
DH: I am the king, you understand, so anything I do is significant and noteworthy, but I can be magnanimous as well. A host of guest kitties join my cohabitor’s stories, and in the café of Cat Café, there are a whole slew of them. One in particular gets to show off his catly prowess, as well as his bodily functions. No… I can’t tell you more, or it would spoil the story, but let me assure you, you will be amused rather than offended by the prank.
An Excerpt from Cat Café
JJBB: What’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done?
DH: (Big sigh) It is my philosophy that excitement, beyond that of catching the odd mouse, is to be avoided at all cost. The nap and dinner plate are supremely preferable. That said, I was quite a wanderer in my youth, and got into many a predicament.
My clowder-mate, Big Red, named thusly for his size and color, could tell you a story of excitement and peril. In Cat Café, there came a great windstorm, and for some reason, Big Red got excited and ran out into it. Here is what Lynley recalls of the cat-astrophe:
(Cat Café, Chapter 21) I opened the screen and took a step out onto the patio. Breathing deeply, I noticed again how the temperature had plummeted since the afternoon. I could almost use that sweater now.
Suddenly a breeze stirred in the fat, summer-dry leaves of the fig tree, making a rattling sound. Another, stronger flurry whipped the rattle into a thrumming tattoo. The next gust sent one of the lawn chairs toppling. The tablecloth from the little bench flew into the kiwi bush where it caught in the branches, flapping like a red-checked flag.
Tinkerbelle tensed, her fur ruffled and blowing.
“You don’t like this, do you?” I soothed. “We’re going back now, into our nice cozy house.”
I turned, just in time to see a large orange shape fly past me into the garden.
“Red!” I cried, kicking myself for leaving the door ajar. I knew better—way better.
At seventeen pounds, Big Red was more of a stalker than a runner, and the last time I’d seen the noise-nervous boy race like that was on the Fourth of July when a neighbor set off a round of fireworks the magnitude of a small bomb. That experience had left him shell-shocked for a week.
Quickly I shut Tinkerbelle inside. Red had made it all the way to the edge of the yard where he now stood transfixed before a massive tangle of honeysuckle that twined up the cedar fence.
“Red kitty,” I called again, starting toward the tabby.
For a moment, he gaped back at me, wide eyes reflecting like mercury in the porch light, then he leapt into the bush and disappeared. The foliage shook violently as he clawed his way upward, reappearing at the top where the vines grew thinner. Now scaling the fence itself, he continued to climb. I looked on helplessly, hoping he would come down on his own, fearing I would have to fetch the ladder.
Finally he arrived at the place where the mesh weave of the cat fence took over from the wood. He tested it, got a claw stuck, and had a mini fit before wrangling loose. He then hunkered down on the thin wooden rail, ears back and wailing in frustration that his plan to ascend to the sky had been thwarted.
The wind was blowing harder now, buffeting like a physical force as I stared up at the unhappy cat, way too high for me to reach.
“Red sweetie,” I intoned. “Come on down now. We’ll go in the house and I’ll give you some of your special treats.”
He didn’t move though I could see his sides heave with frightened breaths. I added a string of kitty-kittys to my plea but to no avail. I reached up, inviting him to swan dive into my arms. I even gave the honeysuckle trunk a little frustrated shake to see if he might be persuaded to jump. None of it worked; the poor, scared guy just cowered atop the rail and yowled.
With a sigh, I admitted defeat and stumbled through the barrage of wind-blown debris for the toolshed. Thankfully the ladder was at the front where I could get to it, a very old, very heavy wooden model I was sure would never pass an OSHA test. I hefted it down from its hanger and lugged it back to the honeysuckle fence. I got it situated, then looked up to find no cat!
“Red?” I exclaimed, my heart pounding. Where had he got off to now? Was it going to require an all-out shakedown of my garden jungle? So many plants and bushes; so many places to hide.
Then I heard a tiny meow and looked over to see Red poised on the patio step. I left the ladder against the fence and joined him. The second I opened the screen door, he zipped in to safety. I tried to follow his movements, but he was already gone.
So all was well in the end. Silly cat!
JJBB: Can you give me a teaser about the plot?
DH: Cat Café’s tagline is “A body is discovered on the floor of the cat café, and all the black cats are missing!” I must first explain that no cats were harmed in the making of this story. That said, our roles are integrally woven throughout. Here is the back cover quote:
Sixty-something cat shelter volunteer Lynley Cannon always finds more trouble than a cat in catnip, but this time it’s not about her. Someone is targeting very senior citizens, and when Bea Landrew, elderly owner of the Blue Cat café turns up dead, Lynley’s mom Carol could be next.
Handsome Detective Devon is looking for a link between the victims when he makes a different sort of connection— with Lynley! It’s been a long time since the cat lady had romance in her life, but while her mom is in danger, the case comes first.
It appears the cat café will go the way of its deceased owner, but Bea’s grandson, a slick Miami businessman, steps in at the last minute. Arthur is not a cat person so why would he bother? Romeo, the big Russian Blue, senses ulterior motives, but who will listen to a cat?
A black cat rescue, an antique photograph, an elaborate payback. Is this killer seeking justice or vengeance? With death as the objective, the results are the same.
JJBB: What else do you want my readers to know?
DH: Mrow-wow, now there’s a good question. I suppose the most significant thing to impart to your readers is that Cat Café lives up to the highest standard of the cozy cat mystery. Since our author is a member of the Cat Writers’ Association, it is imperative for her to feature cats as a major part of the content. Some books purport to be cat mysteries when a cat may merely ramble through the room once or twice; still others have a cat on the cover, then no cat in the story at all! Mollie’s mysteries are all about cats. She even heads each chapter with cat tricks, tips, and facts to help her audience learn a little extra about their feline friends.
One reviewers had this to say about Cats’ Eyes, the first book in the Crazy Cat Lady series: “I knew this novel was about cats, but it’s theme is cats! Cats are as much the main characters as the main character is!”
JJBB: So, if you like cozy mysteries, and most importantly, if you like cats, Cat Café and the Crazy Cat Lady series sounds like a good fit for you.
DH:A huge thank you, Jeffy Jeffy, for hosting us on your blogsite for the first leg of the Cat Café book launch blog hop. I had a great time talking about me.
Where to Get Cat Café
JJBB: Thank you for stopping by and sharing some inside info about Lynley and her escapades. Where can my readers pick up a copy or three of Cat Café?
DH: Your readers can get the paperback at Amazon.com for only $14.00. The Kindle is a deal at only $5.99. It’s also available at Another Read Through and Backstory Books, Portland, Oregon.
Want to keep track of Mollie and her blog tour?
Here is the line-up for the rest of Mollie’s week-long blog hop:
Oct. 30: Melissa Lapierre’s cat Mudpie interviews Lynley’s kitties, all 8 of them! (Little, Lynley’s favorite feline sleuth, is the spokes-cat)
Blogger, Mochas, Mysteries and Meows www.mochasmysteriesmeows.com
Nov. 1: Fun Questions with Amy Shojai, CABC
Amy Shojai, CABC www.SHOJAI.com
Nov. 2: Kathleen S. Mueller reviews Cat Café, and we chat about writing, muses, and old photographs from secret boxes in the attic.
Traveling Dog Lady www.travelingdoglady.blogspot.com
By Jeffy Jeffy Bad Boy Cat Halloween CostumesCat Halloween Costumes
Halloween is a scary time for cats. Yes there are horrible wackos out there who want to do unspeakable things to kitties, but there’s also a threat closer to home—namely, home. It’s time for kitty costumes. All over the country cat (and dog owners) are purr-using the internet looking for “adorable” cat Halloween costumes for their future-formerly dignified pets. In an attempt to combat this, kitties use the computer keyboard as a treadmill hoping to block access to online costume markets. Unfortunately that strategy didn’t work at my house. The human still managed to get a hold of contraband pet clothing from PetKrewe.com and so the embarrassment begins.
I admit, unlike the other members of the household, I was too young and naïve to realize what was happening. The other kitties hid (which run did not save them from humiliation). One minute I was happily hanging out, the next I was shanghaied and inducted into the navy.
Since my dignity is now resides in the bottom of the trashcan beneath yesterday’s litter clumps, I may as well come out of the costume closet.
One final note: No cats were harmed in the taking of these photographs, we were, however, abased and embarrassed. I wasn’t a fan of the hats at first, but after a lot of treats I finally got used to them. The human posted these shots cuz they’re funnier. (All the costumes below came from PetKrewe.com except for the prisoner costume. They cost around $15.95. There’s info about the costumes at PetKrewe.com)
Hello Sailor
As they ask in the military, “With all due respect, are you crazy?” I have to admit, I look hot in Pet Krewe navy dress whites for cats and small dogs. Although officers might gripe that I’m out of uniform, I didn’t mind the Anchors Away look once we lost the hat.
Hopefully I’ll get less time time for good behavior
Somehow this innocent mug of mine wound up with the name Jeffy Jeffy Bad Boy. So the human decided I should model this little ditty because of my propensity to get into things she says I shouldn’t. I look good in stripes, don’t you think? This Lighthouse prison costume for cats and small dogs comes with a hat (which I refused to wear.) It costs under $10.
It’s a pirate’s life for me Cat Halloween Costumes
Yo ho, or is it “yoohoo”? Burt the dog works this striking Pet Krewe pirate ensemble complete with hooked hands and a pirate hat. It comes in small, medium and large sizes. Just add your own eye patch.
I’m not lion; it’s the mane event
Cats are actually related to the King of the Jungle, not dogs, but Burt sports a lion’s mane that could make a canine want to purr. The Velcro™-style strap holds secure. Doesn’t it make you want to kiss his nose…or not. Available in small sizes for kitties and medium and large dogs.
Jeffy the day of his rescue. His eyes were so swollen he couldn’t open them. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
In May, something happened, both shocking and horrible and touching and beautiful at the same time. A man passing through Highland Village, Texas stopped at Walmart to pick up something when he found a kitten laying motionless in the parking lot. Someone had dumped him.
The good Samaritin took him across the street to Petco where the veterinary office, The Pet Vet, had recently opened. They gave him glucose, which revived him—a little. Petco called Animal Allies of Texas’ cage manager Marjorie, who called me and asked me to take a look at the kitten.
(Personal tangent: There is a special place in Hell for a person who would dump an unconscious kitten (or puppy or any animal) in a parking lot. I have to wonder how many people pulled in and out of that car park ignoring a dying kitten. What is wrong with people? Petco was right across the street for God’s sake.)
Second day. He does have eyes. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
Thrown Away Like Trash
The Siamese-mix could fit in my hand. Even though he had all of his baby teeth, including premolars (meaning he was at least six weeks old), he weighed only .6 of a pound. He should have weighed at least a 1.5 pounds. With sunken eyes swollen shut and bony to the touch, odds of survival were long. Were I a betting person, I wouldn’t not have taken that bet. Still, I had to at least give it a try, didn’t I? At home we celebrated when I got one cc of liquefied Hill’s a/d down him. That was it. A whopping single cc of nutrition. By the end of the day, he took three ccs at once. What a victory.
The next day I took the kitten to my vet, Cassie Epstein at the Animal Hospital on Teasley Lane in Denton. What’s his name the vet tech asked. He didn’t have a name. I don’t like to name foster kittens because you get attached to them. Arg. Okay. The first name to came to me was…Jeff? His name is Jeff, for now…until he’s adopted…by someone else…hopefully very soon.
Cassie’s diagnosis: herpes upper respiratory infection and starvation—sick little kidden
Cassie’s prognosis: guarded
Treatment: Antibiotics, eye ointment, worming and groceries, groceries, groceries.
A week after he was found in a Walmart parking lot, Jeffy is growing a belly filled with food, not parasites. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
I could still only get three ccs down Jeffy at a sitting, so we sat every hour. Even late at night. It was like having a critically ill bottle baby. The following day he could finally open his eyes a little. The lights were on. Was there really a functional kitten inside there?
After three days, he would voluntarily take five ccs. Then more and more, until he had a ravenous appetite (which thrives to this day.)
The Transformation
A month later, an amazing ugly, sick cat-erpillar transformed into a butterfly. He was beautiful. It was time to find Jeffy a home. My hubby did his photography magic and took the most endearing photo of Jeff with a plush kitty. Animal Allies of Texas could post him on the pet adoption sites and get him a new home. I kept asking Hubby to forward the photos and he always had an excuse not to send them to me.
Already Jeffy monopolizes the remote so he can watch Animal Planet. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
Finally, he ‘fessed up, “You’re not paying attention. That kitten is really bonded to you.”
So, I’ve fostered thousands of kittens in my 30+ years in cat rescue. They all bond to you. But when they go to their forever homes, they will bond with their new people. It’s part of the process.
Yes, Jeffy followed everywhere like a puppy. Yes, he snuggled. Yes, there was something special there. We don’t need another cat. (For the record, our elderly cat population took a huge hit the last two years. We lost four cats in 2017 to lymphoma, hemangiosarcoma and an abdominal mass. 2016 was also tough on our golden oldies.)
“Look at him. He’s a blue mink Tonkinese,” Weems insisted. Yes, by appearance, Jeffy is a blue mink—only the second one I’ve rescued in three decades. The last one was Nixie, my heart cat, my muse and our photography model. Her death four years at the age of 18 still makes me cry. Weems insisted, Jeffy was sent to help me heal after the death of my father, mom and so many amazing cats.
Jeffy already has experience as both an actor and a professional model. Here’s one of the profile photos that never made it to Petfinder. Photo by Weems S. Hutto.
Next thing I know, I’m filling out adoption forms and hubby is paying the adoption fee. It was official. Jeffy (why did I name him Jeff?) is mine.
Jeffy is now six months. He sits on command, shakes hands and high fives. We’re working on other tricks. Jeffy has a greater Instagram following than I do.Hundreds of people keep up with him on Instagram. He loves walking on my computer keyboard. (Who knows, there might be a future connected with writing.) In the meantime,
Thank you, God for sending a half-pound angel to me. Thank you, Weems for recognizing a gift when you see it. Thank you to the good Samaritan who found Jeff and didn’t walk past. And to the jerk who left Jeff to die in a parking lot, shame on you. You are teaching your kids your value of life. Trust me. It will come back to haunt you when you get old and they abandon you. Good luck with that.
No nasty emails please. This was from my blog on the potential movie, Catnado. Syfy turned it down. No cats were harmed in the making of the photo. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
It’s hurricane season…again, and Hurricane Florence has North Carolina in her cross hairs. Regardless of where you live, or which disasters you could face, you need a disaster plan that include your pets?
On March 29, 2017 the weather in north Texas was crazy. I was happily dreaming, but I bolted to life when my severe weather app shrieked. “A tornado has been spotted in your area.”
This is what we woke up to. We had 11 minutes before the tornado made it to Flower Mound. Graphic courtesy of the National Weather Service Fort Worth.
My hubby went back to sleep, but I dashed downstairs to check the weather radar.The map displayed a little red triangle and an arrow aiming right for our home. The timeline said the tornado would reach Flower Mound in 11 minutes. Holy flying cat crap, Batman. My dog and cats looked at me as if to say, “So what’s the plan?”
The good news is: I have a disaster plan that includes my pets. The bad news is: I’d never actually tested it until now. The moment of truth approached along with the tornado. I grabbed a handful of designated emergency pillowcases, and then sprinted upstairs to roust my sleeping hubby out of bed. He monitored weather reports while I shanghaied unwilling cats into the pillowcases.
The cat’s out of the bag. Herman after the National Weather Service issued the all-clear. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
Thank God, two minutes before the estimated time of disaster, the National Weather Service canceled tornado warning. (The Flower Mound saved us again!) A few moments later 60 to 80 mph straight-line winds hit us, but other than losing some branches off our oak tree, we were fine. A block away, trees were ripped apart. Two miles from my home, Lewisville got nailed by an EF-1 tornado. When we got the all-clear, we opened the pillowcases. (The cats were literally out of the bag.) They trotted out in the open, confused, but relatively unruffled.
Although their house was undamaged, the crazy strong straight-line winds took down this live oak. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
While I discovered some kinks in my emergency preparedness plan, overall, it worked pretty well. Whew.
A few future tweaks include attaching zip ties to the pillowcases so we can secure the cats and better placement of flashlights. (I have a full-blown evacuation plan too involving checklists, pillowcases, carriers, go bags, emergency food and loading the car. Complicated, but at least I have one.)
Do you have an emergency plan for your pets? You may not have tornadoes in your area, but you may have to worry about earthquakes, lightning, floods, hazardous chemical spills, wildfires or attacks by cantankerous bigfoot gangs. No matter how safe you feel in your home, you’re at risk of something.
A few doors down this live oak was split down the middle by straight-line winds. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
Developing a practical disaster plan
I suspect most people never put a plan together because, according to articles on disaster preparation (including my own), a good plan is complicated and expensive. Don’t be overwhelmed. A simple plan beats no plan at all. So here are five things you can do to keep your pets safe during an emergency.
#1 Have a container for every pet.
Would it be better if you had a $70 carrier or crate for every animal? Of course. However, you may not have the finances or the space. Besides, when the carrier comes out, most cats hide because it usually portends a trip to the vet. A pillowcase makes a fabulous and free alternative in a life and death emergency. Kitties don’t have that negative association with a pillowcase. Pick ‘em up; drop ‘em in. Twist the open end. Taadaa. Contained kitty. (Next time I’ll use zip ties to keep them inside. That will free my hubby to do other things.) When it was safe, we opened the pillowcases. The cats were literally out of the bag. They emerged confused, but relatively unruffled.
Pillowcases made cheap and easy-to-use cat containers in an emergency situation. Photo by Dusty Rainbolt.
If you have 20 cats, get 20 emergency-dedicated pillowcases. I bought my large collection from a thrift store for fifty cents each. Now that’s affordable. Always keep them in the same easy-to-access location so you don’t have to rummage through the linen closet, dirty clothes hamper, the basement or clothes dryer to find them.
#2 Assign jobs.
My husband monitored the weather warnings while I rounded up the cats. He kept them secure in their sacks until we got the all-clear from the National Weather Service.
#3 Confine your pets when you get a warning.
Severe weather or a brush fire headed your way? Put everyone in a small room or bathroom with no (or few) hiding places. When you either have to take cover or bug out, you won’t have to track everyone down. Many cats and dogs hide when unfriendly weather or other threats approach.
#4 Post a list of all your pets.
Do a roll call as you gather your fur babies and check off whenever you locate and confine one. You don’t want to accidentally leave someone out.
#5 Practice different emergencies in your mind.
Yes, it would be better if you actually held emergency drills, but if you’re not going to physically go through the process, then at least mentally work the scenarios. Talk to your family and get their input and ideas.
In the event of a fire or tornado, seconds count. Simple preparations ahead of a potential disaster may save your pet’s life and even your own.
Do you have a disaster plan? What are your concerns about dealing with an emergency? Tell me about your emergency concerns or preparations in the comments section below.
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About Dusty Rainbolt
Author Dusty Rainbolt is an award-winning veterinary journalist according to her answering machine. She is an associate certified cat behavior consultant and member of International Association of Animal Behavior Consultants, as well as past president of the Cat Writers’ Association. Her books, columns, reviews and articles have been honored with more than 50 writing awards including three-time recipient of Friskies Writer of the Year. Her just-released cat behavior book, Cat Scene Investigator: Solve Your Cat’s Litter Box Mystery, is the consummate guide for dealing with a cat who sidesteps his/her appointed toilet. CSI, which provides science-based methods for determining the medical or behavioral causes of feline inappropriate elimination, teaches cat parents to view their cat’s litter box avoidance through the eyes of a detective to determine the cause and, ultimately, the remedy.
In a few weeks ago scifi fans, tornado aficionados and shark lovers will watch the final Sharknado movie, The Last Sharknado: It’s About Time will air on August 19 on the Syfy channel. The original movie, Sharknado, about a tornado that dropped voracious sharks down on the citizens of Los Angeles, was released during Shark Week of 2013.
It appears that the writers of Sharknado may have based the movie on an actual event. In October 2012 a two-pound leopard shark fell to earth, landing alive and still wiggling on the 12th tee of San Juan Hills Golf Club in San Juan Capistrano, CA.
There were no witnesses to the sharknado drop and weather was clear. However the rescuing golf course marshall believes that the small shark was dropped by a bird because it had a pair of puncture wounds. The course marshall put the shark in a bucket of water and released it back into the ocean.
The golf-loving leopard shark isn’t the only isn’t the only charcharinid known to use public facilities. As with the Sharknado movies, we move from California to New York City where a lemon shark didn’t so much inspire a B movie, but reenacted one. Many of us have seen the less than classic bad movie, Snakes on a Plane. But how many of us have seen Sharks on a Train? That wasn’t a rhetorical question. According to the Metropolitan Transit Authority in New York City, at least a few.
While weird goings on New York subways aren’t a new development, this might be the one of the most bizarre. Last August, during the Discovery Channel’s Shark Week, riders aboard a Queens-bound train reported that unpleasant odor in one particular car. The unpleasant aroma wasn’t an unwashed human, but a three-foot-long dead shark left under a subway seat.
Several cell phone death photos (similar to the ones of dearly departed family members in the 19th century—ewww) were taken of the piscine. Some prankster sent the deceased shark off to his great reward with mementos that any New Yorker would have appreciate, a MTA card (not sure if there was any credit left), a can of Red Bull and a cigarette.
The Mustelus canis, more commonly known as a dusky smooth-hound or smooth dogfish, measured about three feet long. When the train reached the Astoria/Ditmars Boulevard station, a supervisor pronounced it DOA, put it in a trash bag and threw it away. Not much of a sendoff. A spokesman at the Metropolitan Transportation Authority said they don’t know how the shark ended up on the train.
Thanks for joining us for our recent radio broadcast of All Paws Pet Talk Radio. We had a great time. Thank you to our guests Susan Lewis, “America’s Fairy Dog Mother”, and Bev Freed of the Charming Cat Corner in Lewisville, Texas. Get their contact information below.
If you’re interested in some of the news stories from our May 26, 2018 show here are the links to the original articles.
A plaster cast of one of three horses from a recently discovered stable near Pompeii
Archaeologists have recently discovered a well-preserved stable outside the walls of the archaeological site of Pompeii that included three horses. After the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, volcanic ash covered the region and hardened. After all the people and animals decomposed a cavity was left inside the ash. Over a century ago, archeologist got a real life (or rather death) view of Pompeii inhabitant by making casts of the victims. Thety injected plaster into these voids in the hardened ash to capture more details about those who died in the catastrophe. Up until now we’ve seen, people and the pathetic chained dog in agonizing detail—but for the first time this was the first attempt on a large mammal
Archaeologists have uncovered at least three and a trough horses in the ash that enveloped the city of Pompeii in 79 A.D. At least two of the horses had been harnessed, possibly prepared for an escape, when the super-heated pyroclastic flow overtook Pompeii and the surrounding area.
Are you for or against emotional support animals on planes? How do you feel about fake service animals? Are you okay sitting next to emotional support turkeys, pythons and tarantulas?
Monkey business was afoot when a Rhesus macaque headed for a San Antonio-area primate sanctuary escaped in a cargo area at San Antonio International Airport.
Our guests
Interested in the finding out more about the Charming Cat Corner, Kitty Save or Bev Freed?
