The Story of Little Toad

Our town has a Trap, Neuter, and Return (TNR) program that encourages people to capture "community," or free roaming unowned cats. The cats are then taken to the local shelter and neutered or spayed, then released back to where they have been living. The hope is that this program will eventually and humanely reduce the population of feral cats. 

Cats are apparently marked after the process by having their ears tipped, so they can be easily identified from a distance as already neutered. 

I know that this program has been in place for many years--sometimes with government funding and sometimes through the goodness of private citizens. 

One little guy who was the recipient of this free service was a young gray and white cat. He was so friendly and sociable that folks wanted to have him taken in by one of the many no-kill shelters here and offered for adoption, but at the time there just wasn't any room for any more cats. So he was released back into "the wild"--his neighborhood near the downtown plaza. 

Then fate took a hand. One evening, the director of one of the most successful shelters was dining out with friends at the Little Toad Creek Brewery downtown when the gray and  white cat came up and "spoke" to them. They knew he was asking for a home so they took him along, named him Little Toad, and featured him as the Action Programs for Animals Pet of the Week. 

I saw his story on Facebook in mid-July and couldn't believe that he was not adopted immediately. Two weeks later, he joined our family. He made himself at home immediately. He wasn't bothered by the cats or the dogs. He isn't at all shy and greets visitors at the door and shows them to a comfy chair, just like a little maitre d'. 

Little Toad at the shelter, waiting...

Home at last; best friends with Minky (whose shelter name was Butch Cassidy)

Everyone gets along. L to R: Little Toad, Henry (shelter name Jupiter), and Minky

Handsome Henry

Not really a kitten any more...

He's Henry the Plumbing Cat

Henry "the kitten" is almost 9 months old. He keeps growing and growing, as you can see in this photo, taken when he was stretched out on the end of the sofa and as close to the fireplace as he could get. 

He's a long boy now

You might remember that Henry was quite a wild boy when we first brought him home from the "kitty condo" where he lived for the first part of his life. See Hello, Henry for a look at his size on arrival here, and Catastrophe Averted, for his adventures in knitting. 

My theory is that, having spent several months in a large cage before we adopted him, he just couldn't get enough of running and jumping and exploring every bit of our house. He has settled down somewhat since his fateful appointment with the vet, but he still likes to gallop from one end of the house to the other.

For some reason, perhaps because his new living space is so much larger than the old one, he has no desire to go outside. He will trot along with the dogs when they are headed out the door, but he stops there and sits inside looking through the window, calling to them until they return. 

He is the cat-who-runs-with-the-dogs, though. He hides and jumps out and chases them, then they chase him. There's usually some kind of entertaining ruckus going on here. 

And have I mentioned plumbing? Since giving up knitting, Henry has taken to dismantling parts of the bathrooms. He stole the hinge off the lid of the new toilet, takes out parts of the whirlpool tub jets and carries them around, and removes the sink strainers and plays hockey with them. Last night I saw a Sailor Cat out of the corner of my eye--Henry was strolling by with what looked like a pipe sticking jauntily out of his mouth. It turned out to be a Bic shaver. I wish that I had gotten a photo!

Henry thinks about a plumbing apprenticeship while lounging by the fire

Hello, Henry!

This is how we feed them here at the Zee house. Please welcome young Henry (aka Hank, aka Handkerchief), shown here eating on the lower deck. He is an older kitten rescue from the local shelter. 

From the ASPCA Pet Statistics page: Each year, approximately 1.5 million shelter animals are euthanized (670,000 dogs and 860,000 cats). The number of dogs and cats euthanized in U.S. shelters annually has declined from approximately 2.6 million in 2011. This decline can be partially explained by an increase in the percentage of animals adopted and an increase in the number of stray animals successfully returned to their owners.

Our local shelter has worked hard to lower the rate of euthanization and to place their homeless animals into caring homes. They bring dogs available for adoption to many community events, and they have satellite operations around town where cats can be seen up close. It's much more relaxing to look at just a few cats in cages at a pet food store or, in our case, the "Kitty Condo" at our county building, than to go to the shelter. Visiting the shelter is an overwhelmingly emotional experience for me--so many animals, such great need!

Bill became acquainted with Henry because he (Bill, not Henry) attends a lot of meetings at the County Building and stopped by the Kitty Condo each time to visit a little kitten called Jupiter (now Henry). Once they were bonded, there was little I could do. Now we are a much livelier household!

Plus, we get to live another 18-22 years, the possible life expectancy for a cat. I'm absolutely sure it works that way.

Meteorology Boy! For Skywatch

Most of the time our skies are clear and blue because we live in the desert. But every once in a while we are blessed with an overcast sky and clouds that might--well, they just might--bring rain to our parched land.

At Cody's age, a ripe old 15, every sky is a wonderful one. He sits here on his favorite windowsill to check out the possibility of rainfall on a rare cloudy day.

As you will see from the photo below, taken several months earlier, Cody is devoted to his meteorological duties and seldom leaves his observation post. Click on the pre-dawn photo to enlarge it and look for Cody's glowing eyes in the window to the left of the porch.

For skies (and sky observers) everywhere, be sure to visit Skywatch Friday. 

What's in the Garden, Mid-April

These smell so good

I love this petunia, called Antique Shades

Double Delight rose.
Those tattered hollyhock leaves got that way because of certain cats hunting lizards underneath. There's a whole lot of leaping going on.

Verbena

I'm very excited about these hollyhocks, which are my first. Last year, as biennials do, they put out lots of leaves. This year they are shooting up, growing inches in a day and are loaded with flower buds that will bloom in shades of pink, rose, and burgundy. These plants come up to my chin now.
Thank you, Diane, for the seeds! 

Here is beautiful Gracie, part of the lizard patrol. 

Adopt a Pet!

Rescued dogs come in all shapes and sizes (and facial expressions)

	Did you know that approximately 4 million adoptable dogs & cats are killed each year due mainly to overpopulation? Did you know that 25-30% of dogs for adoption in animal shelters are purebred? The other 70-75%, of course, are lovable, wonderful mixed-breed pets, just waiting for a chance to be your perfect new friend.
	In an effort to help people make good choices when they adopt a dog or cat, many humane societies, SPCAs and pet rescues provide adoption counseling to help match you up with a pet for adoption.
	If you have your heart set on a specific breed, before you check out a dog breeder or pet store, why not adopt a pet from a breed rescue organization? Breed rescues are groups that specialize in a particular breed of dog or cat.
	Don't be fooled into thinking that animal shelters and pet rescues are filled with dog or cats that were discarded because they're "bad". Shelter pets for adoption are wonderful companions who became the victims of family tragedy, unlucky circumstances or irresponsible owners.
	Did you know that many backyard dog breeders and pet stores who supply the majority of purebreds simply are selling inbred pets without care for preventing genetic problems? Mixed breed pets have less inbreeding, generally less inherited genetic disease, and therefore overall lower vet bills and happier pets! And the best place to find a mixed breed dog or cat is at an SPCA, a humane society or an animal shelter. (from Adopt a Pet.com)

Wordless Wednesday: Kitties, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Min Pins

We Are Siamese

We are Siameeiz if you pleeiz,

we are Siameeiz if you don't please.

We are former residents of Siam,

there are no finer cats than we am.*

Eating

                                                                                                                            

When I was a child, our family used to visit my father's cousin in the San Fernando Valley in southern California. Although he shared my father's New England blue collar background, Buddy (his family nickname) had started out writing for radio, hitchhiked to Hollywood as a young man, and worked his way up to being a screenwriter for some of the Alfred Hitchcock movies.** When Buddy was still at the starving artist stage my father treated him to many a meal, and he never forgot the favor when later his star rose and my dad remained a tow truck driver.

Sharing

Well! I have to tell you that visiting with Buddy was just about the most glamorous thing that us kids had ever done. He lived in a house that had once been owned by one of the Beach Boys (scream!), and it was just down the road from the Roy Rogers and Dale Evans ranch! His house had a swimming pool, a guest house, and I'm pretty sure there was a cleaning lady somewhere. Heady stuff, indeed!

Gracie

Buddy might have known plenty of big names in Hollywood, but for us little kids, it was his ownership of the Siamese cats, Ting and Ling, that gave him a place in our hearts. Those cats, fairly rare at the time, were just plain weird with their crooked tails and crossed eyes and their strange caterwauling. They would terrorize us by appearing in places where we didn't expect them, like up on top of the fridge, where they would rise up shrieking like manic babies. We adored them and I vowed to have a pair of Siamese of my own when I grew up. 

And I did. Sometimes I have even had more than two. 

*****

*The Siamese Cat Song from the Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp. Written by Peggy Lee and Sonny Burke.

**Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, The Trouble with Harry, The Man Who Knew Too Much

Help Me!

Continuing from yesterday's post: The storm was still raging and the broken gas pipe still hissing...

Since you already know about my problem with magical thinking, you won't be surprised to learn that I convinced myself that the gas somehow wouldn't explode if it couldn't see me while I used the phone. I rushed to the other side of the house and turned my back toward all the chaos and called 911 (see why you shouldn't use a phone in the vicinity of a gas leak). I don't think that I have ever been in such a state of fear (As I learned in my public speaking class, my mouth goes totally dry when I'm really scared and I find it hard to talk), but I managed to make myself understood and was even able to remember my name and address. The operator told me to grab the animals and get away from the house.

Getting the animals out felt a lot like this

I found two leashes and the snapped them on the big dogs. Telling the two little dogs that I would be right back (I hoped), I closed the door behind me and took off for the neighbor's house across the road. Although I'm normally a quiet person, not given to much shouting, I started screaming, "Joe, help me!" at the top of my lungs when I got near the house.

Joe's wife, Wanda, peeked out the door as we came barreling toward her, all of us soaked and some of us terrified and me still screaming. She started to say something like, "No, no dogs in the house..." when a part of me that I didn't even know I had in there told her to take the dogs, put them in the bathroom, stay inside because there was going to be an explosion, and that I was coming back in a minute (I hoped) with more dogs. This is a woman I hardly knew, and I was moving our acquaintance up several notches all at once, but she saw my terror and grabbed the leashes.

Sloshing pretty fast for a lady my age back over the road and through the puddles in an outfit meant for hanging around alone on a hot day in front of a fan with no witnesses, I got back to the house. I had a moment where I thought I might be able to gather up the cats and stuff them into a carrier, but they were all hiding. It felt terrible to leave them behind, but I was betting on their resourcefulness and left a door open for them to get out when the house blew up. It wasn't a great plan for their immediate future, but it was the best I had.

The two little dogs were most willing to be scooped up and tucked under my arms. I almost left without my cell phone (I will never wear shorts without pockets again), but grabbed it on the way out the door and went back through the puddles and away from the house, this time noticing that the emergency guys had already gotten there in record time and were blocking off the road. Scared as I was, I had a big fashion realization: Their hazmat outfits were a lot more suitable for the occasion than mine.

I got back into Joe's house, dropped the dogs, and begged for a glass of water so I could talk and explain myself. My poor neighbors. Their house doesn't have much of a view in my direction and they had no idea what was going on.

*****

You know, other people might be able to tell this story in 25 words or less, but I guess that's just not in my nature. There will probably be more tomorrow. And lots of pictures, of course.

Bertie's outfit was also a lot cuter than mine

Gracie

This post is especially for my Pacific Northwest blogger friend, JC, whose blog is called Lilacs & Cats. We are cat fans, JC and I, and both of us have had lynx point Siamese--very beautiful cats. Although JC is off in Hawaii at the moment, I hope she'll come across this post sooner or later.

Our Gracie, a rescue who we got last year in June, is shown here "playing" with Bertie Pierre. You can see the rest of the story, if you wish, at Gracie Under Fire. Back in those days, Gracie was a pale silvery color with some faint markings along her back and dark striping on her head, tail, and legs.

Now, here she is a year later. She is developing all kinds of spots and generally getting darker all over, as do most Siamese. She is a beautiful cat and really likes her life here with us.

The Adventures of Bertie Pierre

The Arrival of Bertie Pierre

Gracie Under Fire

Bertie Knits

Bertie Naps

Bertie Pesters

Shirty Pierre

Where Oh Where Has My Little Bertie Gone?

Bertie Says: No!

Bertie Just Wants to Say

Bertie Gets a New Suit

Bertie and Gracie Go to the Olympics

Bertie and Spike Play Dentist

Bertie Sings Mariachi

Bertie's own blog can now be seen at Ruminations of an Ice Cream Philosopher. I am not the author (not kidding here, it is written by my husband), so I take neither credit nor blame for the content

Bertie Knits

Bertie Pierre, though just a small dog, has a vast capacity for big adventures. Why, just this morning as I was having a second cup of coffee, he enrolled Gracie the cat in Knitting Lessons. (Click any photo to enlarge it).

Bertie surveys his work-in-progress under Weetzie's disapproving gaze. Note that Gracie is nowhere in sight. She was later found vigorously washing her shoulders, far from this scene.

When I suggested that he was perhaps the only culprit and that there were, in fact, no actual Knitting Lessons, I got this response: "Who, me?"

Cleaning up the mess was a lot of work. Poor little Bertie was completely exhausted and ready for a nap, although it was still only 7:30 AM.

With the yarn all gathered and the mess all tidied, Bertie suddenly spied the crochet hook. "Yoo hoo, oh, Gracie, want to take some Crocheting Lessons?"

***

For all of Bertie's adventures, click here.

Admire These Cats, Please!

There's just too much going on around here these days for me to find much blogging time. Besides, my USB cable has been temporarily out of state with Beez, all the way back in Connecticut, so I haven't been able to download all the photos I've been taking for this blog. I know--excuses, excuses.

Bucksnort and I have been finding time to swim for an hour every morning, but for the rest of the time we've been involved in a lot of housecleaning, obsessive tidying, and painting in our respective houses. The reason will become clear soon, when I get those photos downloaded and some explanatory posts written.

Note to self: Relax. Everything will be done in good time.

In the meantime, here's a photo for you to admire of all of our Siamese cats perching simultaneously on the windowsill. From left to right: Gracie-the-rescue-cat, who starred in a recent post; Cody-Ko, an elderly gentleman of thirteen; and Skippy Kee, who was saved from a lifetime of kitten production in a cage like a poor captive non-free range hen.

Yes, I know, people shouldn't have so many animals. Perhaps we should move to the country...

Stay tuned.

Gracie Under Fire

The two newest members of the Zee Family, Gracie and Bertie Pierre, are the best of friends, in spite of what you may think after looking at these photos (click to enlarge except for the first one, which won't cooperate).

Here is Gracie, so sweet and demure, out for a stroll.

Let the games begin: Bertie approaches and begins to circle.

He grabs the nearest appendage. Have a heart, Bertie!

They assume the wrestling position.

Monsieur Bertie begins to realize that perhaps he has made a mistake in judgment.

He's been pinned! Miss Gracie, so sweet and demure, has won this round.

*****

Be sure to see the Complete Adventures of Bertie Pierre

Adopting from Animal Shelters: The Starfish Story

I thought about President Obama's starfish story (below, part of his recent speech on community service) the other day when visiting our local oxymoronically-named "kill shelter" with my sister. There were so many lost souls there hoping for rescue. I knew that it was kill day and that we already had enough dogs and cats at home. Even so, we brought home Gracie, who was still lactating from a recent litter, and was extremely thin and scrawny. 

Gracie has been eating and resting and grooming herself. In just over a week she is looking much better and is starting to play with the other cats. 

It was all I could do. We left so many behind, but we were able to make a difference for this one. 

To find an animal shelter in your area, go to http://www.animalshelter.org/shelters/states.asp.

The Starfish Story

An old man walking along the beach at dawn sees a young man picking up the star fish and throwing them out to sea. "Why are you doing that?" The old man inquired. The young man explained that the starfish had been stranded on the beach by a receding tide and would soon die in the daytime sun. "But the beach goes on for miles," the old man said. "And there's so many! How can your effort make any difference?" The young man looked at the starfish in his hand and without hesitating threw it to safety in the sea. He looked up at the old man, smiled and said, "It will make a difference to that one."

Not Another Sewing Slip-Up

Quite a few years back, my Siamese cat, Keeker, came in from our yard in Las Cruces with something sticking out from between her teeth. I thought immediately of the time, years before, when I had been doing some hand sewing and had set the needle and thread down to go and answer the phone. When I came back she was making her strange Siamese caterwauling sound and there was a bit of thread hanging out of her mouth. When I investigated a little closer there was something shiny in her teeth--my needle! I got it out somehow and learned my lesson about leaving needles around.

Back to the situation in Las Cruces. I thought at first--oh, no, not another sewing slipup!--but when I leaned down to check, she gave one more yowl and out popped a little snakelet. Somehow, in spite of the energy expended in jumping up and down and shouting various things, I managed to get the broom, sweep the snake out the door and into my garden. I have to admit, I never weeded that section much after that, figuring that the little guy had lots more family somewhere out there.

Here she is, survivor of snake adventures and sewing catastrophes: Keekerekka Z., 1985-2004. She is modeling a raccoon collar in this photo, don't ask me why.