Two Lonely Cats

Sorry I haven't been online much lately. This is the time of year when I do a little consulting work at a second church, plus I've been dealing with a close friend's major health crisis. Jan is in Tucson Medical Center with a serious lung infection and kidney failure, and has nearly died three times that I know about. I was the hospital's only contact person until this past Friday night, when I managed to get the names of Jan's parents in New Mexico and pass the info on to the nurses. Jan is seriously confused when she is conscious at all, absolutely miserable and restrained for her own protection. This is someone I was taking to church, out Christmas shopping and to restaurants just a month ago! 

While all this has been going on, the Pima County Fiduciary Office has been badgering us to get Jan's belongings out of the home she lived in for 15 years, so they can sell the house. It belonged to Jan's housemate, who has been declared incompetent with dementia. Sale of the house will help to pay for the housemate's care. So yesterday, I rounded up some volunteers, rented a U-Haul truck and went out to the house to clear out Jan's bedroom and storage shed, and move it all into a $150 a month storage space which I'm hoping the family will ultimately pay for. It took eight hours and the hiring of professional movers to help, but we got it done, except for one important detail....

Sweet Pea has similar coloring to this cat, but shorter hair.

I wish I’d gotten a photo of at least Sweet Pea, but I’ll try to rectify that later. You see, Jan had two cats left behind in the house, being fed by a neighbor against the day Jan could move out of the nursing facility into an apartment. That's not going to happen now. Even if she does survive this crisis, Jan won't be able to live on her own, let alone care for two cats. We need to find a home for both cats, or two homes for one cat each. 

Here are the details, as written up by another friend of Jan’s:

Sweet Pea is a youngish tortie cat, black and amber/orange, with a distinctive black splash down her nose.  She lives up to her name.  She needs an immediate new home.

Flash (temporary name I gave yesterday), her gold offspring, also needs placement but hasn’t had much chance to socialize with humans, and hides when approached.

The situation:  Sweet Pea’s owner has multiple medical problems and has not lived at home for well over a year.  She hoped to find a new location, but her condition is worsening.  Her house-mate, the home’s owner, was caring for the cats until she was institutionalized several months ago with dementia.  Neighbors have been feeding the cats and changing the litter box.  The fiduciary is planning to sell the house.

Friends of the cats’ owner closed out the house as best we could yesterday (a protracted ordeal), and I brought Sweet Pea to my house.  Flash is still hiding in the only house he/she has ever known.

The present:  As of last night, Sweet Pea is living in my screened nook, safe but a bit chilly.  She is bewildered but likes the food and being petted.  Luci, the most temperamental of my three (already one over my limit) is scandalized, a state which she shows vigorously.

If I can’t find a placement or at least temporary fostering, Sweet Pea will probably go to The Hermitage late today or tomorrow.  Ditto for Flash, when he can be lured into a cat carrier.

I am hoping we can avoid shelter placement at least for Sweet Pea.  Let me know if you can help or have ideas.

What I can guess about the cats, and a promise:  Probable ages are 2 to 3 years for Sweet Pea, and 1 year for Flash.  Immunizations are probably overdue.  I don’t know if Sweet Pea has now been spayed, and for certain Flash (of whichever gender, but probably male) will need to be neutered.  The promise:  If someone can foster one or both cats, I will ask our good friends at Spay and Neuter Solutions to refer for neutering, and I will make a donation to them at least equal to their costs.  I am willing to negotiate re the additional vaccinations.  Sweet Pea seems to respond well to other cats.

Help!  I really can’t take on another cat, especially since I have to have a house-sitter all summer, when I am in Guatemala.

And thank you.

Ila

***

As of tonight, “Flash” is still out at the house, being fed and watered by a neighbor. I’m trying to arrange for someone to go out and retrieve her (I’m horribly allergic, and still have multiple rashes a day after being in that house), but that’s not the biggest problem. What we really need is someone to take in one or both of the cats. Is that someone you? If so please message me (mavarin on Tumblr and AIM, mavarin2 on gmail). Thanks!

Karen

EMPS: Puppy (and Kitty) Love

This week's Ellipsis Monday Photo Shoot topic was "Pick an Emotion," and I was almost certain I'd be photographing doggie emotions, mostly because I'm shy about asking people to let me photograph them. But today was the Blessing of the Animals at St. Michael's, and the emotions most on display were on the faces of the pet owners. Check it out!









The emotion is obvious, isn't it? It's love, the love of a human for a pet. Yes, it's mixed with other emotions, mostly pride and joy. But most of what I saw today, despite the dark church and my shaky camera technique while holding two leashes and looking at a dead battery warning light, was clearly Love.

Oh, and the cat photos were taken just before my dogs started barking at them...!



One last shot, and it represents the photo I didn't get. During the Eucharistic Prayer. John (the teenager walking in front here) was kneeling before the altar, and lifting the candle (torch, in ecclesiastic parlance) at specific moments in the ritual. The crucifer (the person who holds the cross on a pole) held the leash meanwhile, but the dachshund was able to reach John's feet, and at one point climbed onto John's calves. Eventually John completed his torch raising duties with one hand while scratching his dog with the other. The calf jump was the cutest thing I've ever seen at church, but I could never have gotten a decent photo from my vantage point, a good twenty feet away! So instead here's a photo of the walk back to the sacristy after Mass was over.

Karen

Round Robin: 3 x 3, Part Three: Impressions of a Cat in Motion

For Part Three of my Round Robin entry, I'm using three failed photos of my friend's cat, Harvey. Having been abandoned and left for dead before his rescue and adoption, he's kind of a wild and crazy cat, and he certainly doesn't trust me yet. He did not stay in one place long enough for me to get even one good photo. So let's have fun with the bad ones!



This is the best of the shots. I didn't do anything here except crop and sharpen lightly.



For this one I turned the background negative and overdarkened Harvey's white fur for a pixillated, almost op art effect.



On this last one I used a solarization effect and a motion blur on the background, increased the saturation on the barely-visible eyes and did a lot of smudging at the edges of the cat's outline.

And that's it from Harvey and me. Be sure to visit the other Robins - here's the third and final batch of links!

Linking List, Part Three
as of 7:15 PM Saturday

Suzanne R - Posted!
SuzyQ421's Photo Blog
http://suzyq421sphotoblog.blogspot.com

Sherrie - Posted!
Sherrie's Stuff
http://sherrie-plummer.blogspot.com/

Ruth - Posted!
Scrabblequeen
http://www.scrabblequeen.wordpress.com

Dawn **Welcome, new member!*** - Posted!
Dawn Elliott Photography
http://dawnelliottphotography.blogspot.com

Kat **Welcome back!** - Posted!
In My Dreams I Can Fly...
http://inmydreamssfk.blogspot.com/

Gattina - Posted!
Keyhole Pictures
http://gattina-keyholepictures.blogspot.com

Manang Kim - Posted!
My Life's Journey in Focus
http://kissess4u.blogspot.com

Janice **Welcome, new member!*** - Posted!
jabblog
http://jabblog-jabblog.blogspot.com/

Karen

The End of Lunacy

It is exceedingly rare for me to get a phone call after midnight, even through everyone knows I'm likely to be awake well past that hour. When a call comes in that late at night, it can't be good news.

Sunday morning, 3:45 AM. My cell phone rings.

I know what it's about. Just not the details.

"Hi, it's Karen."

"This is Dr. ___ from Valley Animal Hospital. I'm looking for S___, Luna's owner. Is she there?"

"No, this is her best friend." I verified that the other phone number they had was S's number, the only phone number she has. The vet explained that Luna wasn't breathing on her own, "so we're breathing for her." I offered to drive across town and wake my friend up, but the vet said she'd try the number again, and hung up.

At least Luna was still alive. For the moment.

I checked S's number on my cell phone, since I don't have it memorized, and called back to verify that they had it right. They did, but the call wasn't waking my friend up. Probably just as well. Luna was back to breathing on her own, so the immediate crisis was over. But it didn't look good.



Since Luna's cancer surgery on Wednesday, the cat had hardly eaten at all. When I took S. to visit her on Saturday afternoon, they had a heat lamp on her and were talking about putting in a feeding tube. The hope was that if she got some nutrition, she might grow stronger, possibly strong enough and well enough to eat something.

Luna hardly moved for the first few minutes of our visit, and didn't respond to S's attempts to cajole a meow from her. But she purred when gently petted, and raised her head a little, just before we left.



As S. spent these precious minutes with her beloved, dying cat, I visited a little with the few animals in the other cages. One cat, labeled as feral, meowed defiantly at me whenever I came into view. The other cat was curled up in the back of the cage, as was a dog labeled as "aggressive animal."

The other dog was named Magnum, a chocolate lab or Weimaraner or something along those lines.The card said he was brought in by FAIR (Foundation for Animals In Risk) with gunshot wounds. Somehow I doubt poor Magnum was named after the Tom Selleck character. When someone came to take Magnum away, I said,"Why would anyone shoot a sweet dog like that?"

"Why would they shoot anything?" she replied.

Anyway.

The rest of Sunday morning went by without further news. S. knows better, usually, than to call me during church. But in the afternoon she called. Luna died during the night.

The animal hospital had asked her about disposal of the body, and she didn't know which option to choose. I recommended cremation. Neither of us has an appropriate place to bury a pet, and digging more than a few inches into the ground here is exceedingly difficult. I went through that with Jenny Dog many years ago, and ultimately had to hire a handyman to dig. Never again. So I told S. about the nicely labeled white plastic boxes in which a local service delivers cremated remains to Tucson vets. "Tuffy and Noodle are on my desk right now," I said.

"That sounds nice," S. said.

So I went over to the animal hospital, about two miles from here, paid our share of the bill and told them to do the cremation. The portion of the bill that S. now owes to the animal welfare group is over a thousand dollars, twice what it would have been had Luna died on the operating table. I figure it will take S. about two years to pay that off out of her Social Security disability. The vet's office called S. again four or five hours after that, asking again about the body disposal. Tearfully but politely, S. again made her wishes known.



Next weekend is the Animal Fair at Reid Park, a giant adoptathon for practically every animal rescue group in Southern Arizona. S. will be looking for a year old cat this time, not an older cat like Luna. She cannot be alone, and she can't afford another week like this one, financially or emotionally.



But I don't regret that we went ahead with Luna's cancer operation. At least we tried. There was a legitimate chance of saving Luna's life, and S. would have been wracked with guilt had we denied her that chance. This way she knows she did what she could for her furry friend. She also had a week to prepare emotionally for Luna's death, something she didn't have when her previous cat died a year ago December. In my experience, when a loved one dies after a long illness, the grief is a little blunted with relief, that the long ordeal of worry and suffering is at an end.


Karen

Weekend Assignment #306: Karen's Cat Book?

Carly's hosting the Weekend Assignment for the first time, and it's a tricky one!

Weekend Assignment #306: You're A Famous Author, What's The Name Of Your Book?

Sounds easy, right? Oh, but hold on, there is a catch here folks! The book you are famous for writing must be from a genre that you aren't known for. As an example, if you really enjoy writing horror stories, make this assignment about a romance novel or a biography, or anything other then you usually relate to. If you don't dabble in writing very often, no worries, simply come up with a title for your fictional book from the genre you read the least.

Extra Credit: Write the opening paragraph of your best-seller!

Ack! So, since I've written a fair amount of fantasy, science fiction and science fantasy, those are off the table. I've also written lots of non-fiction about Arizona and my dogs, so we can't go there.

But I'm famously allergic to cats, and almost as famously uninterested in cooking. My unlikely bestseller, therefore, is a cookbook for cats. I had a different title for it last night, but then I talked to John and had a better idea. Now the title is:

The Cats' Cookbook:

Fabulous Foods for Felines and Friends

And here, just for the heck of it, is the book cover.

As for the Extra Credit, everything in the opening paragraph below is true:

Introduction

On January 10th, 2010, a cat named Luna was taken to a Tucson animal hospital for surgery. An X-ray two days before had revealed a large tumor pressing on the abdomen. Luna had eaten little for the previous month, and the once-sleek American Longhair was reduced to skin and bones. Nevertheless, her bright eyes and continued energy helped to convince her beleaguered owner to take a chance on surgery to remove the unknown mass. At noon on Wednesday the news came: the veterinarian had removed the cancerous half of Luna's stomach. The prognosis was good, but a new question arose: what could the owner safely feed her?

Luna, two days before cancer surgery.

Yes, Luna is a real cat, just not my cat. (She's not the cat on the book cover, either.) Her owner, S., is living on Social Security disability and could not have afforded the surgery at all were it not for a small loan from a local animal rescue group. She'll probably be paying them back for the next year, but if Luna survives it will have been well worth it. As I wrote about at the time, S. got Luna when her previous cat died shortly before Christmas 2008. To lose Luna 14 months later would be devastating for my friend. It's too soon to be sure, but it seems that the surgery has saved Luna's life, at least for a while.

Be sure to check out Ellipsis for the full scoop on how to play along with this week's Weekend Assignment! Then next week I'll be back to to take my turn as host. Let's give Carly a warm welcome as the Weekend Assignment co-host!

And don't forget our other memes:

The Round Robin Photo Challenges - a new topic every two weeks


and


The Ellipsis Monday Photo Shoot - hosted by Carly, with a new topic every Monday!

Karen

F&FF: The Candy Cane Problem

The rawhide candy canes were a mistake.

After all the extensive dog (and cat!) blogging I've done in the past week, I was hoping for some nice Christmas Day photos for Feline and Furball Friday, of Cayenne and Pepper interacting with decorations and presents. It didn't happen, partly because I was busy with other Christmas activities (imagine that!), but mostly because the dogs don't like the aluminum tree when the motors on the stand and color wheel are running.

Cayenne will sort of tolerate it, especially if there is food to be had, but even she was freaked out a little, especially after John and I opened a couple of Christmas crackers John found at Target. (This is not a food item, but a British party favor kind of thing, with a tiny amount of explosive that goes off when you pull open the cardboard tube. Inside is a paper crown and some little toy prize.)

Pepper didn't want to come into the den at all on Christmas Day, and spent much of the day on the bed with one of the rawhide candy canes. As I say, they were not a successful gift for the dogs. Neither one wanted to actually chew on the things, but they both were determined to keep track of them, lest the other dog take possession. John was convinced that one of the reasons Pepper stayed out of the den was that Cayenne had one of the candy canes on the floor near the entrance to the den, and was intimidating Pepper any time she approached. John eventually took away the candy cane, and it seemed to help - except that Cayenne was interested in the shelf where the candy cane was, and I worried about her jumping or climbing to get the useless thing back.

From the Picasa album Hermitage No-Kill Shelter

Be sure to check (sometimes)photoblog every Friday for links to the week's cat and dog photos. And just this once, here's a F&FF cat photo from me, left over from my trip to the Hermitage Cat Shelter last week, which was a highlight of my Christmas. (Uploading this and four other photos this morning also increases the number of photos in the slideshow in the previous Hermitage entry.) As you probably know, I'm very allergic to cats, but I managed to photograph a number of them with a wall of glass between me and the dander. Enjoy!

The Weekend Assignment entry will be up in a couple of hours. Probably.

Karen

The Hermitage is Caterrific

Here's a rare feline-centric entry from this lifelong dog person. If you are a regular reader of this blog, then you know that I'm very allergic to cats, which tends to dampen my enthusiasm for them. The truth is, I deliberately keep my distance, emotionally as well as physically.

From my Picasa album Hermitage No-Kill Shelter

This made today's situation a little awkward, but not unworkable. I actually do like cats, even if I can't be around them myself. So when my friend S. called me yesterday to say that her cat had unexpectedly died in her arms, I was determined to help her find a new feline friend.

I've written about S. before, but I always try to be vague on her details for the sake of her privacy. I will tell you this much: she is divorced, disabled, often depressed and fairly destitute. If ever there was someone who needed a pet, it is she.

So off we went today to the Hermitage Cat Shelter near my home. This is an almost-legendary, highly respected no-kill shelter in Tucson. S. was a little concerned about whether she was ready to replace a cat who had only died the day before, and I'm afraid I was a bit pushy about it. I had already driven across town to pick her up, and was concerned I would not be available to help her on some undefined later date. More important, I was convinced that she needed a cat right away, to help her get through the upcoming holiday without her [expletive] son. This paragon of filial duty has given his mother the bare minimum in attention or affection for years and years, and for the last year or so has professed to believe some outrageous slander about his mother as an excuse to abandon her entirely. If he really believes it, then he doesn't know her at all. Either way, it leaves his mother pretty much alone in the world. She needs a loyal companion, and in her apartment that means a cat.

The Hermitage is on the discontinuous 21st Street in Tucson. We drove around for half an hour before I broke down and stopped at the house to check the exact address and location on an online map. When we got there I walked in for about a minute, just long enough to explain S.'s situation while she used a restroom. Then I sat outside at a table for about an hour, ostensibly readying The Lost Road by J.R.R. Tolkien.

It was interesting. I wandered around a little, taking pictures of the grounds and of their front room through the glass. People were coming and going, donating pet food and rummage sale items, doing cleaning and maintenance and visiting the cats. One couple left without a cat after concerns were expressed about spreading disease between the semi-feral "outdoor" cats they had adopted and a new indoor one. Another couple dropped off a box of moist cat food and several huge bags of dry food and kitty litter. They explained that they were making the rounds of their favorite charities, making donations in lieu of Christmas presents. The owner of ten cats, the man found it a little difficult to leave without adopting another one. I knew the feeling. I had been rather enchanted by a calico cat, among others, that I was watching through the plate glass front window-wall.

The place was the embodiment of love, goodwill and common purpose, the very spirit of the season. It was evident that the shelter needed additional funds, mostly for a coat of paint here and there, but it was also obvious that the cats themselves were receiving exemplary love and care while awaiting their "forever homes."

Eventually I was told that S. had found the right cat and was doing the paperwork. She emerged about 15 minutes later with a white cat with grey spots in her flexible carrier. The cat, Luna, was the same one the couple with the outdoor cats had been talked out of adopting. S. told me that the volunteers said she was their favorite cat in the entire shelter. They had also given S. a discount as a disabled adopter.

I drove S. home with her new friend, and I've left my car windows open overnight in hopes of avoiding asthma next time I drive the car any distance. I have a tickle in my lungs right now. I never really got a good picture of her, so here instead is part of a screen shot from Luna's Petfinder listing, before it goes away. I just hope I was right about the timing, and that S. and Luna will benefit from each other's company, in the short and long term.

One thing for sure, this was the highlight of Christmas for me.

Karen

Update: I spoke to my friend on Christmas evening, and she said that Luna has turned out to be the "perfect cat" for her, following her around, sitting in her lap and giving her "cat kisses." Hooray!

A Good Dog Gets Better; A Great Cat Says Goodbye

For Feline and Furball Plus Feathers Friday:

Sorry I forgot to link in last week despite a few doggish entries. Before I get started, let me just link to one from this past Sunday:

Take Your Dog To Church Day 2008

But that's not important right now. I'm going to write a little bit about a recent improvement in Pepper's behavior, but first I'd like to say something about Carly's cat Elvis, who died on Wednesday.

So Long to the Coolest Cat

Elvis graciously loaned his image
to Barack Obama's campaign.

Ever since Carly started her original blog Ellipsis back on AOL in 2003, her cat Elvis was a major part of both her writing and photography, just as he was a major part of her life. It's hard to tell where the actual cat ended and Carly's storytelling skills began, but clearly he was pretty extraordinary. This was a cat who wore Halloween costumes and other attire at times, not just passively cooperative but actually willing to dress up for Carly's camera. He was highly photogenic and very affectionate. He had a cordial relationship with other cats and at least one opossum, but his lifelong best friend was Carly herself. I never met Elvis, just as I've never met Carly in person, but both of them gained numerous friends and fans through both versions of Ellipsis. I'm one of them.

Carly and Elvis were both diagnosed with diabetes a few months apart from each other, and Carly managed the condition for both of them with considerable success. The same cannot be said for Elvis's other recent diagnosis, cancer. Even with treatment, Elvis was living on borrowed time, and Carly knew it. As with my dog Tuffy's cancer, when the disease returned, it was fast and fierce. Elvis's quality of life was severely impaired. On Wednesday, by appointment, Carly did the kind thing, and said goodbye.

All of Carly's readers, myself included, will miss this remarkable cat and Carly's tales of his adventures. But that pales in comparison to what Carly was probably feeling today.

***
Pepper's Progress

I think it was on Saturday that I broke the rules at Miko's Corner Playground. I abandoned Pepper and Cayenne for about ten minutes, leaving them completely unsupervised while I rushed off, by necessity, to a nearby restroom. I know, I know: shame on me, right? But I'm glad I did it.

Pepper has a turning point.

Since Cayenne arrived at Casa Blocher and settled in, I've wished the two dogs would even out a bit in behavior. Cayenne has been a little too dependent, Pepper too independent. Call Pepper over, either at the dog park or at home, and she would probably go the other way, even if the person doing the calling had a treat in hand. At the dog park, Pepper would run off or lag behind, sorta-kinda following Cayenne or me but at a distance, out of reach. More than once I've had to chase her, trap her or apply trickery to get the leash back on her for the ride home. Cayenne, on the other hand, spends most of her time at Miko's Corner walking just behind me, not quite in heel position on her invisible leash.

Why, it's Pepper! Practically on the path with me!

But on Saturday when I got back from the rest room, Cayenne and Pepper were right by the gate, waiting for me, ecstatic to see me again. Since then, Pepper seems to appreciate my presence more, and is more cooperative and friendly. Until now it's been a struggle to get the choke collar and leash on her, but suddenly this week it's gotten easier day by day. Either she's no longer trying to evade it, or she's starting to cooperate because it means she gets to go to the dog park and back. Or something. Maybe her little scare on Saturday is irrelevant to this change in behavior, but I think it made a difference. Either she's more interested in having me around now, or she's trusting me not to take her somewhere and leave her behind forever, as happened to her repeatedly before she became a Blocher. Or both.

Is Cayenne less dependent? Maybe.

Has Cayenne changed? Is she more dependent, more independent, or neither? I'm not quite sure. She still follows me around the look most of the time, but I thin she may also be spending a little more time with other dogs. At home, I think she may be spending a smidge less time dogging me.

Be sure to check out (sometimes)photoblog on Friday for this week's collection of critters.

Karen

Monday Photo Shoot Results: Tales of the Tails

Pepper wags her tail...

Last week for the New New Monday Photo Shoot #32, I asked you to show us a tail. Three of our usual wags plus a new participant (welcome!) came up with the following:

Antonette shows us a tail attached to a sleepy cat named Jasmine!

Jama shows us some dove tails. Literally!

Carly catches a swan in the act of displaying its tail - and not much else.

Julie's cats display their tails for Catmas, and Midnight contemplates the other cat's tail.

While Cayenne tries to hide hers.

Thanks, folks! Now if I can just come up with another topic we haven't done before, it will be posted shortly!

Karen

Weekend Assignment: Those "Other" Pets

I was going to go with a cats vs. dogs thing, on the theory that it would be relatively lighthearted and nearly everyone has a preference. But then I checked whether Scalzi has covered this rather obvious topic in the past. Darn it, he has! (He also asked readers to choose between cats and cheese, which is more surreal.) I kind of had my heart set on a pet theme, though. Rather than give up on my version of the topic entirely, I'm going to flip-flop the main question with the extra credit:

Weekend Assignment #205: As of 2007 Americans owned over 72 million dogs, and over 81 million cats. They also owned horses, birds, fish, turtles, ferrets, lizards and other critters. (Real statistics can be found here.) My question is this: what pets have you had, other than a dog or cat? Is there some kind of pet (allergies and zoning ordinances permitting) that you'd like to have?

Extra Credit: Are you more of a cat person, or more of a dog person, both or neither?

Somewhere in this room was a 10 gallon tank.

My dad is highly allergic to dogs and cats, and I'm highly allergic to cats, birds, guinea pigs, rabbits, horses, and probably several other species. Although I lobbied for a Mexican Hairless, there was no way that house in Manlius was ever going to have a dog or cat in it when I was growing up.

But my parents, bless 'em, did come up with consolation pets from time to time. When I was little, my brother Steve had a succession of parakeets: Petey, Dewey, Dewey Two, and I think Frisky. Then one year on her birthday, my mom bought me a parakeet, which I named Friskyblue. By the time Friskyblue died, I was in fourth grade, and had been tested for allergies. Feathers were on the long list of allergens that got a reaction on the scratch test. So: no more parakeets.

Then my dad brought me home a goldfish. I was so delighted that he snuck two more fish into the bowl a week or two later. A week after that, we were trying to keep the poor things from suffocating; the unaerated fish bowl just wasn't adequate. When the last of the goldfish died, we went down to Exotic Tropical Fish in DeWitt and did the fish thing properly: a ten gallon tank, with gravel and filter and demineralizer and heater and live plants and a ceramic decoration and guppies and mollies and swordtails and zebra fish and a corydoras catfish and a pair of kissing gouramis. The kissers were my favorites, by far. Of all the fish in the tank, they came the closest to having a personality, and to interacting with humans beyond merely chasing the fish food. They also survived for years and years; at least the one called Kisser did.

Somewhere in junior high or high school I somehow ended up with a turtle, for about a day. I may have traded with a friend for it.

But I had tropical fish from fourth grade through my freshman year in college. What put an end to that run was my moving onto campus when my parents got divorced. The dorm had a no pets policy, and although I defied it briefly, it quickly became clear that fish in the dorm room weren't very practical.

So we got a gerbil instead. Eowyn would occasionally get out of the cage and run around the dorm room, but my roommate Evelyn and I weren't terribly concerned. Usually I would catch it in the closet a few minutes later. After a few months of this, I discovered that Eowyn had chewed up about eighteen inches of my junior prom dress.

If I had no allergies, I think the only pets I'd want now would be a horse and a parrot. I'd get them at least partly for research purposes. There are lots of horses in the Mâvarin books, and King Jor has a parrot named Skwok. Knowing more about real horses and parrots would probably be helpful, and I expect I'd love the animals themselves. Also, they're relatively long-lived species, which would be a comfort.


Oh, and on the extra credit, I think you know the answer, don't you?

***

Your turn: tell us about your non-cat, non-dog pets, past or present, actual or desired. Write about this in your journal or blog, and come back here and leave a link to your entry in the comments to this one. Next Thursday night I'll do my usual roundup of everyone's responses. Sound good? Then go to it!

Karen

Keeping Our Distance

After my harsh (but honest) words last night about flowers, which I dislike largely because of their allergic properties, a representative of a species I'm extremely allergic to turned up this morning as I headed off to work. It's possible that there's something in the world I'm more allergic to than cats, but if so I've yet to see definitive evidence of it.

This particular cat, however, had no interest in doing anything that would give me an asthma attack. We both kept our distance, pretty much. I spoke kindly to it and took two pictures, but when I took a step forward (after all, I needed to get to my car), the cat dashed under the old Dodge van. I don't think there's a single cat out and about in our neighborhood that isn't at least half feral. Not one of them has ever come closer to me than this cutie, as far as I can remember.

My attitude toward cats is pretty similar to my attitude toward flowers. I recognize that they bring joy to lots of people, including most of my friends. They're kind of pretty, and kind of interesting, but they're just not for me. I rejoice that there are cats in the world, but only for the sake of the cats, and the people who care about them. They should live and be well, far away from me. This neighborhood cat, and all the cats on Calle Mumble, have that last part covered. At least this one, who reminded me slightly of a certain cat who famously had bacon briefly attached to him, was willing to stick around long enough to be photographed, for which I'm grateful.

And I'm sitting here now thinking about the cat and me this morning, and wondering whether I can get away with using the encounter as a metaphor. I have similar encounters every day, with many of you folks. The rather unreliable Blog Patrol hit counter ticks up, telling me of your visit, but like the neighborhood cats, I seldom see you directly. I must settle for being happy that you've stopped by at all, and guess at whether I have anything to offer you to make you want to stay. It's a case of intermittent reinforcement. Sometimes I write something I'm rather proud of, and the only response is the sound of metaphorical crickets. Other times I post something cursory, and it gets four or five comments. And so I wonder whether there are certain things I write about too often, and other things I should write about more. I mean, I could ask you right now to delurk and give your opinion, whether I mention my novels or Wikipedia too often, whether this blog needs more sunsets or more pictures of Tuffy, or more serious essays about something or other. I could drive myself crazy trying to work out what you want and try to give it to you, only to see you slip off down my driveway.

Feel free to give me your opinion or all that; I'd be delighted to read it. Ultimately, though, it doesn't matter if L wants to read more about my writing and submitting, M likes the most heavily edited digital photos, and S is just checking what I did for the Weekend Assignment. The truth is, I'm going to write, photograph and post according to what my brain happens to be doing that day, not on the basis of market research. Based on some figures Journals Editor Joe threw around a week or two ago, there are always going to be lots of people who read and don't comment. And that's all perfectly fine and lovely. Even if you keep your distance, I'm glad you're out there. At least you're not giving me asthma! But I can't begin to guess what you like about the Outpost, and what you'd like more of (or less of). Nor can I change what I write about on the basis of such a guess. All I can do is try to write on a variety of subjects based on my interests of the moment, and hope you like the result.

For example, I mentioned a week ago, and again a couple of nights ago, that I was stuck on a scene in Chapter 6 of An Adept in Mâvarin:

[Darsuma experiments with magic to try to find out what’s wrong. When she empties her backpack, Fayubi suggests that she resume wearing the mindclear necklace. It helps a little, for a while. Need some big impressive spell, and eventual destruction of the necklace.]

Last night and tonight I went with the "just let the characters figure it out" method to get unstuck. Rather than try to come up with "some big impressive spell," I let Darsuma work out what steps to take. She starts with a spell that turns up fairly often in the books, and then does a variant, and then:

The next step was to examine the known magic, such as it was, for any changes, either something added or something altered in aura or nature. Since nearly everything magical in the room was in her pack, she dumped it out on the bed. This time the result was a positive one. There was indeed something that had not been there before.

No, not something. Someone.

It's not hugely dramatic, but it works. It's logical, and it gets Darsuma talking with Fayubi's aura, which is where the scene needs to go. I'll take it!

Karen

Scalzi's Cheesy Question

Weekend Assignment #148: Cats. Cheese. There's only enough room on the planet for one of them -- and you have to decide which stays and which goes. Which do you choose and why?

Extra Credit: what's your favorite breed of cat and/or type of cheese?

If the question stated that "There's only enough room in the house for one of them," I would literally agree with that proposition. I'm not a cat person at all. Never have been. I'm a lifelong dog person, cradle to grave, through and through. What's more I'm very, very allergic to cats. They give me asthma and everything. I'm only a teeny bit allergic to dogs.

I'm not allergic to cheese at all. Even if I were to unwrap, handle and consume a piece of cheese, I would suffer no ill effects.

Figure 1. Cheese.

Figure 2. Cat. (There is no figure 2)

Not being a cat person, I have a remarkably cat-free home, even without Scalzi's false dichotomy. I don't have plush toy cats, cat pictures, china cat figurines, cat books, cat calendars or catnip. I may have a weird little textured cat figurine that came in a $1.00 box of auctioned junk, but I don't know where that is. It may be a dog anyway. Oh, and I have cardboard Kliban cat ornaments.

So you see, losing the feline species would not impinge on my life one bit. It would actually enhance it, because I would be able to visit certain friends without getting ill ten minutes after I walk in the door. Losing cheese would be more of a problem. John and I both like cheese. It's low in carbohydrate, and frankly, there are quite a few dishes that don't taste nearly as good without it.

However, John Scalzi specified the whole planet in his question, and I'm not so selfish as to deprive Steve, Sara, Sarah, Linda, Steven, Carly, Dan, Anita, Jacob, Pat, Julie, John Scalzi and a zillion other people of their cats. I would rather give up cheese than not have Elvis and Pickles and Lopsided Cat and the rest out there in the world...far away from me.

Favorite cheese: cheddar
Favorite cat: Cheshire (all smile no cat)

Karen

P.S. Two entries tonight. Scroll down.