Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
04 November 2011
24 July 2011
Book Reviews: What I read in the first half of 2011 (Part 2)
I would have gotten this second part of my now traditional biannual book-review blog out of the way Friday but I had a what-turned-out-to-be-minor medical emergency: One of my older cats, Emma, who suffers from Irritable Bowel Disease, began spitting up blood so I rushed her to the vet. As she was otherwise fine, Dr. Dais thinks she may have ruptured a capillary in her gut when she threw up that day's breakfast (usually Emma can keep her food down but I have now decisively proven that "beef" should not be part of her diet).
But now back to my reading in 2011 (the nonfiction shelf):
The Rise of the Greeks, Michael Grant: This was the usual Grant - a well researched, readable synopsis. In this case, Greece prior to the Persian Wars and the dominance of Athens and Sparta, when the other city-states tended to fade into the background. I enjoyed the work as it filled in a gap in my understanding of ancient Greek history.
Truth and Fiction in the Da Vinci Code, Bart Ehrmann: I've been less and less satisfied with Ehrmann's recent books. They read like slightly altered versions of his earlier stuff, which is well written and interesting. Truth and Fiction's problem is that I've read this stuff before and better written in his earlier books like Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture & the Faiths We Never Knew or Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible & Why.
War Is Not Over When It's Over, Ann Jones: This book recounts stories of the effects of war and its aftermath on (primarily) women. It's very graphic and very depressing - human beings can be extraordinarily inhuman, and the situation grows worse as the only response we seem capable of giving to the myriad crises besetting us is violence.
The Atoms of Language, Mark Baker: Baker wants to begin looking at language in terms of the elements (atoms) that it's composed of rather than historically. To that end he proposes a Table of Language Elements, and makes some interesting points along the way.
The Poison King, Adrienne Mayor: This is a biography of Mithradates VI of Pontus, who was the last significant opponent to Roman expansion in the East. It's OK but Mayor has an annoying tendency (which is becoming too common in many biographies) of overspeculation, imagining the thoughts of her subject without any support. Which is a shame, because when she's capable of informed, reasonable and supportable speculation when she bothers.
I'd still recommend it for all its flaws because they are relatively minor and when Mayor sticks close to her sources, the book has valuable information.
The Languages of China, Robert Ramsey: Moderately dated (1987) but an interesting overview of (naturally) the languages of China.
Ill Fares the Land, Tony Judt: A collection of essays by the late Judt about the deterioration of the Left and the socialist and welfare-state policies of Europe and the US in the last 30 years. It's an indictment of the intellectual bankruptcy of the Left and a call to reorganzie and reaffirm the humanistic and Enlightenment theories that undergird socialism.
Endgame, vol. 1-2, Derrick Jensen: This book deserves a blog all its own (and it may get one eventually) but for now the interested can read my review on GoodReads. In a nutshell, Jensen argues that it was a major mistake for Paleolithic man to turn to agriculture. The only sustainable lifestyle is a hunting-gathering one, and the advent of civilization institutionalized and regularized exploitation and violence as the normal way of life; a way of life that is destroying life on this planet.
I followed this book up with Spencer Wells' Pandora's Seed, which essentially argues the same point, but from a decidedly more optimistic POV. It isn't on the "official list" only because I started it in July so I'll throw it up on the year-end book-review round up.
But now back to my reading in 2011 (the nonfiction shelf):
The Rise of the Greeks, Michael Grant: This was the usual Grant - a well researched, readable synopsis. In this case, Greece prior to the Persian Wars and the dominance of Athens and Sparta, when the other city-states tended to fade into the background. I enjoyed the work as it filled in a gap in my understanding of ancient Greek history.
Truth and Fiction in the Da Vinci Code, Bart Ehrmann: I've been less and less satisfied with Ehrmann's recent books. They read like slightly altered versions of his earlier stuff, which is well written and interesting. Truth and Fiction's problem is that I've read this stuff before and better written in his earlier books like Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture & the Faiths We Never Knew or Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible & Why.
War Is Not Over When It's Over, Ann Jones: This book recounts stories of the effects of war and its aftermath on (primarily) women. It's very graphic and very depressing - human beings can be extraordinarily inhuman, and the situation grows worse as the only response we seem capable of giving to the myriad crises besetting us is violence.
The Atoms of Language, Mark Baker: Baker wants to begin looking at language in terms of the elements (atoms) that it's composed of rather than historically. To that end he proposes a Table of Language Elements, and makes some interesting points along the way.
The Poison King, Adrienne Mayor: This is a biography of Mithradates VI of Pontus, who was the last significant opponent to Roman expansion in the East. It's OK but Mayor has an annoying tendency (which is becoming too common in many biographies) of overspeculation, imagining the thoughts of her subject without any support. Which is a shame, because when she's capable of informed, reasonable and supportable speculation when she bothers.
I'd still recommend it for all its flaws because they are relatively minor and when Mayor sticks close to her sources, the book has valuable information.
The Languages of China, Robert Ramsey: Moderately dated (1987) but an interesting overview of (naturally) the languages of China.
Ill Fares the Land, Tony Judt: A collection of essays by the late Judt about the deterioration of the Left and the socialist and welfare-state policies of Europe and the US in the last 30 years. It's an indictment of the intellectual bankruptcy of the Left and a call to reorganzie and reaffirm the humanistic and Enlightenment theories that undergird socialism.
Endgame, vol. 1-2, Derrick Jensen: This book deserves a blog all its own (and it may get one eventually) but for now the interested can read my review on GoodReads. In a nutshell, Jensen argues that it was a major mistake for Paleolithic man to turn to agriculture. The only sustainable lifestyle is a hunting-gathering one, and the advent of civilization institutionalized and regularized exploitation and violence as the normal way of life; a way of life that is destroying life on this planet.
I followed this book up with Spencer Wells' Pandora's Seed, which essentially argues the same point, but from a decidedly more optimistic POV. It isn't on the "official list" only because I started it in July so I'll throw it up on the year-end book-review round up.
16 March 2011
The Clan = U.S. Healthcare in Microcosm?
 |
| Malcolm |
First there was Calvin, who was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism about this time last year, and now has to take meds for the rest of his life. Happily, after a rocky start, we've found the right dosage and he's doing fine. But, of course, he does have to take meds for the rest of his life.
Then there's Meggie. She came down with a bad case of constipation a few months ago. Apparently, when cats get constipation their colons never quite recover so she's taking laxatives. This isn't so bad, either. What it amounts to is that I put about a teaspoon of human laxative (Miralax) into a big spoonful of wet food and she eats it. I don't know what - if any - piquancy the Miralax gives to the food but Meggie likes it, and it's become the morning ritual that as soon as I put out the day's dry food for the other guys, she and I repair to the bathroom and she gets her bowl.
Emma was the next patient. She's been losing weight. If you know Emma, this is not a good thing because she's never been a very hefty cat. If cats were susceptible to anorexia or bulimia, she would be a good candidate to keep an eye on. As it turned out, her weight loss seems to be tied to very early stage II kidney disease. Because of her all the Clan is now on a kidney-friendly diet (supplied by the vet at twice the price of my old, pet-store-supplied food (sigh)).
And now there's Malcolm.
Last week I took him and Meggie in for their yearly physicals and rabies boosters. Meggie is doing very well but Malcolm had lost a lot of weight. Way too much for the vet's comfort zone. (He had been 15 lbs when I brought him in 2 months ago when I brought him in because he had a bad cold; when he was weighed this time he was down to 13 lbs. - too much loss too quickly.) The doctor did a complete blood/urine analysis, and it turns out that my little buddy has late stage II kidney disease. Unfortunately, that entails a bit more than just changing his diet; it means the vet put him on what's called "subcutaneous fluids." Twice a week, I need to put a saline IV into Malcolm. Shane, the vet tech, demonstrated last Saturday (March 12) when I was at the clinic. Yesterday (March 15 - "Beware the Ides of March" takes on a whole new meaning for Malcolm), I did it at home. It went very well. Malcolm was calm throughout and only got a bit fidgety at the end, squirming around and jumping away as soon as I pulled out the needle.
For those unfamiliar with the procedure: I take a bag of saline and hang it up from a high point. I take Malcolm and put him in the bottom of a cat carrier (it's close and makes it easier to control him). Then I pinch up a fold of skin, slide the IV needle in, open the drip and let c. 150ccs flow. It takes only a few minutes, and he develops this weird little camel-like hump of fluid. But - apparently - it helps the kidneys do their job, and if it makes him feel better then that's a plus as well.
This also is something that I'll have to do for the rest of his life (and more frequently as the disease progresses).
It struck me how much like the U.S. healthcare system my Clan is: An aging, largely uninsured or underinsured population (only 10% - i.e., me - has coverage) that's facing increasing medical costs.
It's probably not wise to push the analogy too far, though.
18 January 2010
Movie Review: The Corpse Grinders
I like the B-grade horror film genre and I love cats (see this post) so when I read the blurb on Netflix about The Corpse Grinders I knew I had to put it in my queue:
Going into an experience like this the viewer expects a piece of crap but he hopes for an entertainingly bad piece of crap. In this case, there was enough to make it "so bad it was OK" but not "good" - mainly because of the pacing. It was boring despite egregiously bad writing, acting and continuity. I swear that half of these schlock-fests would be twice as good if their producers had any notion of timing. There's also an almost complete lack of gore or cat presence at all; Mikels did nothing with the possibilities of cats turning on their owners.
The movie opens promisingly: It's a rainy night and a cat is meowing to get inside. Cut to the interior where a 20-something couple watches TV. It's obvious that they're waiting each other out until one breaks down and lets the cat in. Finally, the woman goes to the door, and the cat leaps on her throat. (You assume it leaps, actually; the editor cuts from woman looking out into dark to woman with cat on throat.) The husband rushes to her aid, pulls the cat off and then throws it into the house! Not outside (which he is facing) but inside - turning around and throwing it into the house.
Then we cut to the opening credits.
This is the first of only four cat attacks in the entire film. Of these four, only one is going to be fatal and that's the nearly homeless woman whose throat is torn out while she's sleeping.
After the credits we meet the ... gravedigger? It's hard to tell what this guy's job is but he is the source of our villains' corpses. He reminds me a bit of Torgo from Manos: The Hands of Fate - same hairstyle but he doesn't have the limp. He's married to a harridan who carries around a doll that she treats like a living person, talking to it and seating it at the dinner table to feed it soup. There's no explanation for this behavior and, more significantly, it plays utterly no role in the story. An attempt to establish character? Who knows but it's never mined for any meaning.
Not that the bit parts need much in the way of added quirkiness. The pet-food company goes out of its way to hire decidedly odd people. I suppose because they'll overlook a lot to keep their jobs. We now meet our villains - Landau, the "mastermind" behind this diabolical plot, and Mawpy (spelling?), his dull-witted, moderately necrophiliac partner. In another attempt to establish Landau's bona fides there's a running scene between him and Caleb (the gravedigger) where Caleb keeps asking Landau when he's going to get what's coming to him, and Landau keeps telling him to wait and he'll get exactly what's coming to him, in a snide, unctuous voice that telescopes exactly what you know is going to happen eventually. These would have been prime scenes for heckling on MST3 or Rifftraks.
Having met our villains, we now get to meet our (sigh) heroes, and we get cat-attack number two. Our heroes are a nurse and her doctor boyfriend (whose names I've already forgotten). There's a scene which establishes the nurse's love for her man and the doctor's compassion. She consoles him on the recent death of a patient and he utters, "Every time I lose one, I lose a part of myself." Two minutes later he's trying to get a quickie before she has to go back on duty.
Oh, yeah, the cat attack. For some reason, it's OK for this nurse to bring her cat to the hospital. The cat, whose name is Happy Sack or Hockey Socks, or something, attacks the doctor, scratching him on the chin (maybe, you never see any wound - ever - not even a bandage). And then he (the cat) disappears from the movie. Mind you, he's not killed, he just ... disappears.
The film moves on, albeit slowly. Cat attack number three and the only one that approaches the gore potential that any reasonable B-movie director would be exploiting happens. (And by "approach," I mean as a plane cruising at 35,000 feet over Kansas.) I've mentioned this scene - the poor, sleeping woman whose cat, after eating a can of food, bites her throat. Another near-homeless person hears the commotion, discovers the body and throws the cat against the wall. This scene is less traumatic for cat lovers than you might expect (or maybe you do, considering what I've said so far) - you don't see the cat, just the old man swinging around like he's throwing something, a yowl and a crashing sound. And that's the only cat who buys the farm in the entire film!!
Apparently this town is too small to have a real coroner (or vet) because the old guy brings both bodies to our heroes' clinic. After performing a necropsy, the doctor thinks there may be something wrong with what the cat ate. How he determines this is unclear as the most advanced piece of lab equipment visible is a slide microscope that would put even the most underfunded inner-city high school to shame. But the clinic is astonishingly well equipped in books about feline behavior - he pulls a one which explains exactly how felines behave when they've eaten human flesh from the shelf!
Our heroes decide to take their evidence (sic) to the Food Adulteration Agency (the FAA?), where we meet the 4th victim of these vicious feline maulings - the sexy secretary of the FAA agent. She goes home early: At home, she strips down to bra and panties, gets a beer out of the fridge and then seductively reclines on her couch to watch TV. Her cat, fresh from a corpse-tainted repast, leaps for her jugular (OK - you know the routine, due to editing, you assume he leaps for her throat because that's where he is in the next shot). We then cut to the next scene, though we do learn that she survives in a later bit of dialog.
Meanwhile, at the FAA office, our intrepid duo are getting the runaround from our government bureaucrat (who has no qualms about giving them presumably private information about applicants to open pet-food plants), and they go off to get to the bottom of things all on their own.
My virtual pen grows weary, and I can't justify giving this film more consideration so I'll only mention the scene where Landau has tied our nurse to the conveyor belt of the corpse grinder and laughs maniacally, saying that "No one can stop me now!" Or the scene where a detective, who has only been seen lurking in the background of some scenes taking notes, bursts in and shoots Landau dead. Or the final shot, where some cats who hang around the plant are seen crawling over Landau's body as it lays face down on the ground. Or one of the more glaring continuity problems I've ever seen in a film: Our nurse gets dressed (another opportunity for some gratuitous T&A) in a gold outfit; cut to next scene and she's in a red outfit; cut to the following scene and she's back in the gold; and in the final cut, she's wearing a blue blouse and black mini-skirt!
I followed this with a much better B-grade flick - Hide and Creep - a nice little indie zombie movie with a reasonably humorous script and decent acting. If you're in the mood to pretend you're Joel, Servo and Crow on the Satellite of Love, rent The Corpse Grinders; if you're looking to enjoy a little escapism with an otherwise forgettable film, go with Hide and Creep.
In an effort to cut costs, an unscrupulous cat food company buys a supply of
human corpses and grinds them into seemingly harmless chow for kitties. But they
didn't count on the felines suffering a serious side effect: A craving for human
flesh. When cats consume the food, they start attacking their owners in this
campy horror classic from noted "schlock" director Ted V. Mikels.
Going into an experience like this the viewer expects a piece of crap but he hopes for an entertainingly bad piece of crap. In this case, there was enough to make it "so bad it was OK" but not "good" - mainly because of the pacing. It was boring despite egregiously bad writing, acting and continuity. I swear that half of these schlock-fests would be twice as good if their producers had any notion of timing. There's also an almost complete lack of gore or cat presence at all; Mikels did nothing with the possibilities of cats turning on their owners.
The movie opens promisingly: It's a rainy night and a cat is meowing to get inside. Cut to the interior where a 20-something couple watches TV. It's obvious that they're waiting each other out until one breaks down and lets the cat in. Finally, the woman goes to the door, and the cat leaps on her throat. (You assume it leaps, actually; the editor cuts from woman looking out into dark to woman with cat on throat.) The husband rushes to her aid, pulls the cat off and then throws it into the house! Not outside (which he is facing) but inside - turning around and throwing it into the house.
Then we cut to the opening credits.
This is the first of only four cat attacks in the entire film. Of these four, only one is going to be fatal and that's the nearly homeless woman whose throat is torn out while she's sleeping.
After the credits we meet the ... gravedigger? It's hard to tell what this guy's job is but he is the source of our villains' corpses. He reminds me a bit of Torgo from Manos: The Hands of Fate - same hairstyle but he doesn't have the limp. He's married to a harridan who carries around a doll that she treats like a living person, talking to it and seating it at the dinner table to feed it soup. There's no explanation for this behavior and, more significantly, it plays utterly no role in the story. An attempt to establish character? Who knows but it's never mined for any meaning.
Not that the bit parts need much in the way of added quirkiness. The pet-food company goes out of its way to hire decidedly odd people. I suppose because they'll overlook a lot to keep their jobs. We now meet our villains - Landau, the "mastermind" behind this diabolical plot, and Mawpy (spelling?), his dull-witted, moderately necrophiliac partner. In another attempt to establish Landau's bona fides there's a running scene between him and Caleb (the gravedigger) where Caleb keeps asking Landau when he's going to get what's coming to him, and Landau keeps telling him to wait and he'll get exactly what's coming to him, in a snide, unctuous voice that telescopes exactly what you know is going to happen eventually. These would have been prime scenes for heckling on MST3 or Rifftraks.
Having met our villains, we now get to meet our (sigh) heroes, and we get cat-attack number two. Our heroes are a nurse and her doctor boyfriend (whose names I've already forgotten). There's a scene which establishes the nurse's love for her man and the doctor's compassion. She consoles him on the recent death of a patient and he utters, "Every time I lose one, I lose a part of myself." Two minutes later he's trying to get a quickie before she has to go back on duty.
Oh, yeah, the cat attack. For some reason, it's OK for this nurse to bring her cat to the hospital. The cat, whose name is Happy Sack or Hockey Socks, or something, attacks the doctor, scratching him on the chin (maybe, you never see any wound - ever - not even a bandage). And then he (the cat) disappears from the movie. Mind you, he's not killed, he just ... disappears.
The film moves on, albeit slowly. Cat attack number three and the only one that approaches the gore potential that any reasonable B-movie director would be exploiting happens. (And by "approach," I mean as a plane cruising at 35,000 feet over Kansas.) I've mentioned this scene - the poor, sleeping woman whose cat, after eating a can of food, bites her throat. Another near-homeless person hears the commotion, discovers the body and throws the cat against the wall. This scene is less traumatic for cat lovers than you might expect (or maybe you do, considering what I've said so far) - you don't see the cat, just the old man swinging around like he's throwing something, a yowl and a crashing sound. And that's the only cat who buys the farm in the entire film!!
Apparently this town is too small to have a real coroner (or vet) because the old guy brings both bodies to our heroes' clinic. After performing a necropsy, the doctor thinks there may be something wrong with what the cat ate. How he determines this is unclear as the most advanced piece of lab equipment visible is a slide microscope that would put even the most underfunded inner-city high school to shame. But the clinic is astonishingly well equipped in books about feline behavior - he pulls a one which explains exactly how felines behave when they've eaten human flesh from the shelf!
Our heroes decide to take their evidence (sic) to the Food Adulteration Agency (the FAA?), where we meet the 4th victim of these vicious feline maulings - the sexy secretary of the FAA agent. She goes home early: At home, she strips down to bra and panties, gets a beer out of the fridge and then seductively reclines on her couch to watch TV. Her cat, fresh from a corpse-tainted repast, leaps for her jugular (OK - you know the routine, due to editing, you assume he leaps for her throat because that's where he is in the next shot). We then cut to the next scene, though we do learn that she survives in a later bit of dialog.
Meanwhile, at the FAA office, our intrepid duo are getting the runaround from our government bureaucrat (who has no qualms about giving them presumably private information about applicants to open pet-food plants), and they go off to get to the bottom of things all on their own.
My virtual pen grows weary, and I can't justify giving this film more consideration so I'll only mention the scene where Landau has tied our nurse to the conveyor belt of the corpse grinder and laughs maniacally, saying that "No one can stop me now!" Or the scene where a detective, who has only been seen lurking in the background of some scenes taking notes, bursts in and shoots Landau dead. Or the final shot, where some cats who hang around the plant are seen crawling over Landau's body as it lays face down on the ground. Or one of the more glaring continuity problems I've ever seen in a film: Our nurse gets dressed (another opportunity for some gratuitous T&A) in a gold outfit; cut to next scene and she's in a red outfit; cut to the following scene and she's back in the gold; and in the final cut, she's wearing a blue blouse and black mini-skirt!
I followed this with a much better B-grade flick - Hide and Creep - a nice little indie zombie movie with a reasonably humorous script and decent acting. If you're in the mood to pretend you're Joel, Servo and Crow on the Satellite of Love, rent The Corpse Grinders; if you're looking to enjoy a little escapism with an otherwise forgettable film, go with Hide and Creep.
17 April 2008
Requiem for Another Great Cat
Chester, 2006? - 2008
Today I again had the sad responsibility of putting a sick cat (and her kittens) to sleep.
Chester appeared among the ferals at my apartment complex a couple of years ago. It was heartbreakingly obvious that Chester had been abandoned - she was unafraid of humans and sought out the pat on the head or the back stroke. I considered letting her join the Clan but she looked healthy enough and I already had my nine and my apartment wasn't getting any larger.
In short, I took the coward's way out.
This last Thursday (10 Apr), Chester showed up on my patio with 2 scrawny kittens. This was too much - I no longer could look away and I lured her (and the bairns) into the apartment and scheduled an appointment with the vet.
Things look promising at the initial exam. The kittens were scrawny but otherwise appeared OK, and they went after the kitten food offered them like gangbusters. Today (17 Apr), the blood workup came back and Chester tested positive for AIDS.
I couldn't expose my "children" to AIDS and I couldn't isolate Chester from them. As this story from yesterday's Yahoo! News shows, shelters are already overwhelmed with stray and abandoned cats. The chance that an AIDS-infected cat, even a sweetheart like Chester, would be adoptable were not good. So I spared her and her children the agony of lives lived with the AIDS virus and had them put to sleep.
I will always treasure the last hour I was able to spend with Chester; and I will always hate myself for not intervening sooner and perhaps saving her life.
05 April 2008
Requiem for a Great Cat
Marvin the Martian, 2005? - 2008
In the last few months, I've had to put down four feral cats who have wandered onto my patio. The first three were relative strangers; old, sick cats who were looking for a quiet place to die. The fourth, however, who was put to sleep this morning (5 Apr), affected me more deeply because he has been a fixture around the apartment complex where I live for the last 3 years or so.
His name was Marvin the Martian.
As you can see from the photo above, he was a very handsome white/orange tabby. He was also very friendly (as far as ferals go). Outside of the patio, he acted just like any wild animal -- "Humans? I'm getting the heck outta here!" On the patio, he felt safe enough to allow me to scratch his chin and rub his back.
He suffered from cerebellar hypoplasia, a nonfatal disorder contracted in the womb, which gave him a lopsided gait.
Unfortunately, he also suffered from Feline AIDS. When he showed up on my patio scabby & balding, I managed to catch him and took him to a vet. I had hoped that it would just be a matter of curing the scabies (and finally "fixing" him) but it was not to be. In fact, his advanced case of scabies was most likely due to his ravaged immune system being unable to fight off the mites.
So this morning, I went down to the vets' and rubbed his back one last time.
I'll miss Marvin.
05 February 2008
Ailurophilia
[Finally got around to uploading the promised photos: From the top -- Photo 1 is Meggie; Photo 2 is Calvin; Photo 3 is Reenie Bean; and Photo 4 is (from the top, going clockwise) The Monkey, Emma, Malcolm, Oberon, Puck & Miss Gray.]
Considering the "heavy" nature of my first post, I thought it only appropriate that I leaven it with a "lighter" subject -- my cats.
In the course of my misspent life, I've managed to acquire 9 beautiful friends who make my life interesting. In 1995/6 (I forget exactly), a co-worker of mine convinced me to adopt 2 girls from a litter she had (don't worry, the cat was pregnant when my friend found her and she was subsequently fixed). They became The Girls -- Cassandra (aka Cassie, The Monkey) and Emma (aka Emslee). Soon after, she convinced me to rescued a grey, long-hair male from the shelter who became Calvin (those of you who know what "Calvin" means will understand the irony of the name).
Life puttered along for a few more years -- I got married, got divorced, changed jobs, moved -- always keeping my three faithful friends. Then I settled in to the apartment I currently occupy and I became a "cat magnet." There's a feral population of wild and abandoned cats around here. A few years ago, I managed to trap and fix about half of them and the population seems to have stabilized but in the course of events, I managed to fall for 6 more hard-luck cases.
The first to join the family was Megaera (aka Meggie), who waltzed into the apartment from the patio one night and never left. At the time, she couldn't have been more than a few months old and was just a bundle of fur (she looked remarkably like a tribble); and she's grown up to be (IMHO) the "supermodel beauty" of the group.
Malcolm was my next adoption. He came into my life one night when I came home from work (I work a night shift so don't get home till c. midnight) and found him under a bush. I went inside, assuming (hoping, really) that his mother had been scared off by my approach and she would come back for him. I looked back about a half-hour later and he was still under the bush and still crying. What could I do? "Welcome to the family, Malcolm."
Irene (aka The Reen-Bean, Reenie-Bean) has cerebellar hypoplasia (just search for it on YouTube and you'll get a very effecting video of Charley, who has the same problem). It's not lethal but it means that her rear legs don't work very well (cf. the video). She's also half-wild, which means she doesn't trust me much. In the 3+ years I've had her, we've progressed to the point where we can be in the same room together and she won't immediately run away (sometimes, she doesn't even wake up from her nap). I've been heartened by her recent actions -- she's allowed me to rub her back and scratch her chin for limited amounts of time (though the approach has always been initiated by her). I figure I'll be able to hold her in my lap around 2020, or so.
The last 3 were sort of a "package deal." The Boys -- Oberon (aka Obi-ron Kenobi, Jedi Cat) and Puck (aka Mr. Puck, the Puckman, Puckmeister) (heads up Shakespeare fans) are stray brothers (their other brother, Manchester, was adopted into the good home of another co-worker). Both are incredibly friendly, very handsome young men. Miss Grey (aka Miss Greybee) is the surviving cat of another sibling pair. Her brother, Lewis & Clark, was diagnosed with Feline AIDS and I had him put to sleep (not the happiest day in my life; though I had only known him for a few months, his departure left a hole in my life; I don't like to contemplate what I'll be feeling when my "old timers" begin to pass away). Back to Miss Grey, though; she's Calvin's special "friend" -- dare I say "girl friend"? Whatever the case may be, she likes to cuddle up with him whenever possible. Unlike the Boys, she's a very quiet, shy, prim & proper young lady.
I tried uploading some images to the post but I'm writing from my home and I only have a phone modem so it was taking a looooong time. At the risk of angering the e-mail police at work, I'll try uploading some from there later on.
In the course of my misspent life, I've managed to acquire 9 beautiful friends who make my life interesting. In 1995/6 (I forget exactly), a co-worker of mine convinced me to adopt 2 girls from a litter she had (don't worry, the cat was pregnant when my friend found her and she was subsequently fixed). They became The Girls -- Cassandra (aka Cassie, The Monkey) and Emma (aka Emslee). Soon after, she convinced me to rescued a grey, long-hair male from the shelter who became Calvin (those of you who know what "Calvin" means will understand the irony of the name).
Life puttered along for a few more years -- I got married, got divorced, changed jobs, moved -- always keeping my three faithful friends. Then I settled in to the apartment I currently occupy and I became a "cat magnet." There's a feral population of wild and abandoned cats around here. A few years ago, I managed to trap and fix about half of them and the population seems to have stabilized but in the course of events, I managed to fall for 6 more hard-luck cases.
The first to join the family was Megaera (aka Meggie), who waltzed into the apartment from the patio one night and never left. At the time, she couldn't have been more than a few months old and was just a bundle of fur (she looked remarkably like a tribble); and she's grown up to be (IMHO) the "supermodel beauty" of the group.
Malcolm was my next adoption. He came into my life one night when I came home from work (I work a night shift so don't get home till c. midnight) and found him under a bush. I went inside, assuming (hoping, really) that his mother had been scared off by my approach and she would come back for him. I looked back about a half-hour later and he was still under the bush and still crying. What could I do? "Welcome to the family, Malcolm."
Irene (aka The Reen-Bean, Reenie-Bean) has cerebellar hypoplasia (just search for it on YouTube and you'll get a very effecting video of Charley, who has the same problem). It's not lethal but it means that her rear legs don't work very well (cf. the video). She's also half-wild, which means she doesn't trust me much. In the 3+ years I've had her, we've progressed to the point where we can be in the same room together and she won't immediately run away (sometimes, she doesn't even wake up from her nap). I've been heartened by her recent actions -- she's allowed me to rub her back and scratch her chin for limited amounts of time (though the approach has always been initiated by her). I figure I'll be able to hold her in my lap around 2020, or so.
The last 3 were sort of a "package deal." The Boys -- Oberon (aka Obi-ron Kenobi, Jedi Cat) and Puck (aka Mr. Puck, the Puckman, Puckmeister) (heads up Shakespeare fans) are stray brothers (their other brother, Manchester, was adopted into the good home of another co-worker). Both are incredibly friendly, very handsome young men. Miss Grey (aka Miss Greybee) is the surviving cat of another sibling pair. Her brother, Lewis & Clark, was diagnosed with Feline AIDS and I had him put to sleep (not the happiest day in my life; though I had only known him for a few months, his departure left a hole in my life; I don't like to contemplate what I'll be feeling when my "old timers" begin to pass away). Back to Miss Grey, though; she's Calvin's special "friend" -- dare I say "girl friend"? Whatever the case may be, she likes to cuddle up with him whenever possible. Unlike the Boys, she's a very quiet, shy, prim & proper young lady.
I tried uploading some images to the post but I'm writing from my home and I only have a phone modem so it was taking a looooong time. At the risk of angering the e-mail police at work, I'll try uploading some from there later on.
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