Rescued puppy

How can people be cruel to animals?  The rescuers emailed the neighborhood:  "My husband and I have rescued a great little puppy, about three weeks ago, who showed up on our back porch. We cannot keep her because we already have two other big dogs."  The vet says she is about 16 weeks old; the rescuers say she is "very sweet, very smart, and very loyal. We have grown very attached to her so we need to find a loving home for her as soon as possible."  I love this picture of her sleeping peacefully, trusting her rescuers.

Note posted VERY LOW on a refrigerator door

Dear Dogs and Cats:  The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food.  The other dishes are mine and contain my food.  Placing a paw print in the middle of my plate of food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack.  Racing me to the bottom is not the object.  Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king-sized bed.  I am very sorry about this, but do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort.  Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep.  It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other, stretched out to the fullest extent possible.  I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out on the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom.  If, by some miracle, I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door.  I must exit through the same door I entered.  Also, I have been using the bathroom for years -- canine/feline attendance is not required.

The proper order for kissing is:  Kiss me first, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt.  I cannot stress this enough.

Finally, in fairness, dear pets:  I have posted the following message on the front door:

To all non-pet-owners who visit and like to complain about our pets:

(1)  They live here; you don't.
(2)  If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. That's why it's called "fur"-niture.
(3)  I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
(4)  To you, they are animals.  To me, they are adopted sons/daughters who are short, hairy, walk on all fours, and don't speak clearly.

Cat's Eyewitness ~ by Rita Mae Brown

Kiki, the con artist

My Kiki cat is quite good at lying for a good cause, but sometimes we have to laugh at her. When my roommate Donna comes home from work, Kiki will tell her she hasn’t had her afternoon treats yet ... and Donna’s cat Sammy will come running to sit on the piano hoping Kiki convinces the human that they are poor, pitiful, starving kitties who never get their treats on time. The only trouble with their scheme is that I’m usually right there in the room. Donna looks at me and says to Kiki, "But you already HAD your treats." Kiki, the more talkative of the two, says plaintively, "Maiow mew mew." Donna says, "Yes, you did." Kiki replies, "Meow miahow mew!" Donna says again, "Yes, you DID." Kiki, "Meow miaow MEOW, myou." They never seem to notice that humans communicate with each other as well as with them. Finally, Kiki gives up and plops in the floor with her back to Donna, and Sammy sighs.

And that brings me to the subject of the book I completed last night, Cat's Eyewitness, a mystery written by Rita Mae Brown and her furry partner Sneaky Pie Brown. First off, I've gotta say, this is NOT one of their better collaborations. The idea was good, but reading it was mostly a waste of time. I would have put it aside, except for the fact that I was reading it for a reading challenge ... and wanted to put Kiki alongside the investigative trio (the meddling menagerie?) of indefatigable felines Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, along with the dogged corgi Tee Tucker. If that isn't too twee for you and you are still reading along, let's run through my book review and get this over with:

Title, author, date of book, and genre?
Cat's Eyewitness, by Rita Mae Brown, 2005, mystery

Summarize the book without giving away the ending.
Murder, another murder, suspects, a few interesting details, case solved.

Were there any especially interesting characters?
Umm, well, no.

Did you think the characters and their problems were believable?
The story was a bit more far-fetched than usual.

What did you like most about the book?
It reads quickly.

What did you like least?
I wanted to know whodunnit, but I never really got involved in the story.

Share a quote from the book.
The notes I took have nothing to do with plot or characters ... but with words I noticed. (Does this tell you how "uninvolved" I was with what the book was supposedly about?)

So long as "man" is the measure of all things, women will be shortchanged (p. 72). (Makes sense to me!)

Cooper pulled up the wooden chair, an old office chair from the 1940s (p. 176). (I made a note of this because I wondered if it's like the chair I'm sitting in now, as I type this review into my computer, a chair that once belonged to my paternal grandfather, who died in 1944.)

doodley-squat (p. 189) (Hmmm, I've always heard it as "diddley-squat.")

jimmy-rigged (p. 202) (Hey, I looked up jerry-rigged and jury-rigged just this week!)

What do you think will be your lasting impression of this book?
I don't think I'll have a lasting impression. None of the Mrs. Murphy mysteries is deep and challenging, but this one seemed less, somehow, than any of the others I've read, which were more entertaining.

How would you rate this book?
Rated: 4/10, struggled to finish, but not worth it.

Goldie ~ by Ellen Miles

Goldie by Ellen Miles, first in a series of six Puppy Place books, is a wonderful book to read aloud. Kelly told us that the aim of the Four-legged friends challenge is to honor our pets (even if they don't have four legs), and length doesn't matter ... reading a picture book of Bambi to your grandchild counts. I had Kelly's challenge on my mind recently when I went to lunch with my granddaughter and her second-grade class. With six older grandchildren, I know Grandparents Day means it's book fair time. I was thinking, here's my chance to buy a book about an animal and let Cady read it to me. Nah! This is a seven-year-old who knows what she wants.

Her mother had already sent money to school so she could buy a few books earlier in the week, but there was still one more she really, really wanted. The catch is that I was supposed to buy only one book, one. Yeah, but the one she wanted wasn't about an animal. Did I hesitate? No, I set Cady the task of finding a story about animals. "How about one on hamsters?" I suggested, thinking of Herman (see below). No hamster books to be found, but we did find one slightly below her reading level about a golden dog. I assured my granddaughter that I would tell her mother we HAD to buy that book because ... Goldie was her mother's paternal grandmother's name. Ah, yes, my daughter gave me a raised eyebrow at that sorry excuse for buying a book ... like I really need an excuse! That weekend I went to Cady's house, she read me a couple of chapters and, while she was getting ready for bed, I finished Goldie on my own so I could review it here.

Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 80 pages
Date: 2006

Summary
Charles and Lizzie Peterson love puppies and want one of their own more than just about anything. Their mom, who doesn't think they are ready for a puppy, promises them that someday they'll have a new puppy "when the time is right." When their dad brings home a golden retriever puppy, they have a chance to foster a puppy and show their skeptical mother that they are truly ready for a dog of their own. Goldie's thoughts and feelings are included in italicized print throughout the story. Based on how well things worked out with Goldie, the family decides to foster another puppy that the children may get to keep. The realities of dog care — from housebreaking to socialization — are woven into the ten short chapters of this book. This is perfect for every child who wants a dog and every parent who thinks the time is not right. It's a story about responsibility, with puppy care tips at the end.

Rated: 8/10, a very good book.
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Kailana's last rule for the Four-legged friends challenge is to tell something about our pets in our introductory post. I have had a number of pets ... turtles, puppies, fish, kitties, salamander, and a hamster named Herman, for example ... but the ones I have bonded with have mostly been cats. So in my introductory post I wrote about Duchess, the cat who waited to walk me home on school days. This time I want to tell you about Herman.

Herman
It's been too long for me to remember the details about how and why we got a golden hamster, but I do remember Herman. He wiggled and squirmed and turned in our hands so much that one of my children said, "Herman, the Squirmin' German!" All three roared with laughter, and that strange moniker became his name. Since I was the one who spent the most time with him -- feeding him, cleaning his cage, giving him water, and trying to find him when he escaped -- he became plain ole Herman to me. Herman had a small wire cage with a rattling metal wheel that he would run in, frantically, rapidly, daily, hourly it seemed. The bottom of his cage was covered with cedar shavings, under which a hamster could sleep all covered and snug.

I don't have any photos of Herman, but this one from Wikipedia looks a lot like him. He was a smart little fellow who knew if he tried long enough and hard enough, he could open the door of his cage. He would wiggle and squirm and chew and bite: ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chunk, ch-ch-ch-ch-chatter, ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chuck-chunk. And POP after awhile that door would open! He especially liked the corner behind the four-drawer file cabinet, though I can't imagine how he knew it was heavy and hard to move. Poke along the side with a broom handle, and he'd run behind. Poke behind the file cabinet, and he'd run to the side. Poke and prod long enough and Herman would make a mad dash to the sofa and climb inside from underneath. He had probably made the hole in the cloth as his escape hatch. Sometimes we could see him moving along inside the material, safe from us humans who really did NOT want to cut up the sofa and make him run for the other end. Eventually he would emerge, hours or days later, and someone would grab him. Sometimes he would choose to run around the cushions, and all it would take to catch him was a still hand waiting along his path. Soon he would dash right into the hand and be caught. And poor ole Herman went back to work: ch-ch-ch-ch-chuck-chunk, ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chu-chuck, ch-ch-chat-ch-ch-ch-thunk-ch-ch.

We had Herman during the time I was deciding whether I really wanted a divorce, a time when I often felt frustrated and overwhelmed. There came a day when I was sitting in the kitchen floor, leaned back against the cabinets, with one of the children saying something like, "It'll be okay, Mom." I was thinking about a husband, not a hamster, but I heard a suspicious sound: scritch-scratch-skitch. I shushed my child and said, "Listen!" Scratch-skritch-scrunch-scratch. Slowly, quietly, I leaned toward the corner cabinets and the sound was even plainer. Scritch-scratch. Uh-huh, in case you were wondering, Herman had been AWOL from his cage for several days. Scritchity-scritch-scratch.

I felt under the edge of the cabinet doors. A hole! There was an unseen opening in the corner where the cabinet makers had not entirely made everything fit together; after all, who would ever know, right? Who is likely to get down in the corner under a three- to four-inch toe-inset to check? A six-inch hamster, that's who! Slowly I opened the corner cabinet and reached around to discover a space between the dishwasher and the cabinet shelves. And there was Herman, who had happily settled in by bringing shreds of this and that to furnish his new home.

For an animal I never bonded with, Herman and I have a lot of history together. One night I was sitting in the den after everyone else had gone to bed. As usual Herman was fighting his cage door: ch-ch-chuck-ch-ch-ch-chunk-thunk. I was about as down as I'd been that summer, knowing that I had to leave that marriage, and there's that hamster, chewing like crazy on his cage door. Finally, I said softly to him, "What's your problem, Herman? We feed you, we exercise you, we give you plenty of water and sawdust and everything else you need. Why are you fighting so hard to get out?"

He kept trying to escape, ch-ch-chewing, ch-ch-ch-ch-chucking. And suddenly it hit me. Yes, it sounds like a cliche, but I was struck by the thought: We are just alike! I, too, have food and clothes and everything I need. I, too, am unhappy in my cage. Herman, I understand. I took him out of his cage and held him, though he still wanted to get away to some place nice, like that little cubbyhole in the kitchen.

Herman didn't have the option of divorcing me or leaving town or leaving his cage, for that matter. But I got him a big glass aquarium filled with cedar chips and more space to run. Umm, it didn't have a door, and the top had to be covered, but Herman had more room. And he never, ever (as far as I know) experienced anything like this:

Hamster Wheel Gone Wrong
If the video quits working, watch it on YouTube.

The Fur Person ~ by May Sarton

Title, author, date of book, and genre?
The Fur Person ~ by May Sarton, 1957, a fictional memoir (of sorts)

What made you want to read this book?
I read it for two challenges (Outmoded authors and Four-legged friends).


Summarize the book
The Fur Person is May Sarton's fictionalized account of her cat Tom Jones's life and adventures prior to making the author's acquaintance. Tom starts out as a fiercely independent, nameless street cat who follows the ten commandments of a Gentleman Cat, one of which states that "A Gentleman Cat allows no constraint of his person, not even loving constraint." But after several years of wandering from place to place, he grows tired of his vagabond lifestyle and concludes that there might be some appeal after all in giving up the freedom of life on the streets in exchange for a loving home.

I called this a fictional memoir because this Cat about Town finds an acceptable home with two Voices; Sarton's preface tells us those voices are "Brusque Voice (myself) and Gentle Voice (Judy Matlack)." Tom Jones moves in with May and Judy and becomes a Gentleman Cat. After a trip to the hospital, the Gentleman Cat becomes a Gentle Cat and no longer wants to fight. In time Tom becomes a genuine Fur Person and adds this Eleventh Commandment: "A Gentleman Cat becomes a Fur Person when he is truly loved by a human being" (p. 117, LP).

What did you think of the main character?
I loved his attitude, exemplified in his poetry (pp. 82-83, LP):

I'm a whiffling wonder
And my purr's like thunder,
I'm an elegant fellow
And my temper's mellow
And my eyes as green
As have ever been seen;
I've a coat like silk,
Paws white as milk,
I'm a catly cat,
An aristocrat
If you wish to see
Tom Jones, I'm he.
This Jones victorious
Glossy and glorious
Lordly and lazy
And catnip crazy
Yes, glorious Jones
Is me!

How would you rate this book?
Rated: 8/10, a very good book.
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Kailana's last rule for the Four-legged friends challenge is to tell something about our pets in our introductory post. I have had a number of pets ... turtles, puppies, fish, kitties, salamander, and a hamster named Herman, for example ... but the ones I have bonded with have mostly been cats. So in my introductory post I wrote about Duchess, the cat who waited to walk me home on school days. My Gentleman Cat, however, was named Jack.

Jack and Jill
When my twin daughters were five and my son was two, they found under the tree on Christmas twin kittens, one male and one female. I have never been able to tell one from the other until cats grow up, but we told our children which we THOUGHT was which. We were, of course, wrong. Before we learned we had mislabeled the kittens, the children had chosen names from among their favorite stories, and the furry babies became Jack and Jill. Or Jill and Jack. Within a few months one darted under the wheels of a car and "Jill" lived on ... until the day it was undeniably clear that "she" was Jack. I'm sure Jack was totally confused when he received his sister's name, after having been Jill up until then. But it was clear that he knew the word meant HIM ... whenever he heard "Jack," even in the middle of a sentence spoken between humans, he would twitch his ear in our direction even if we thought he was asleep across the room.

Jack was an outdoor cat who loved to chase squirrels. When he spied one in the dogwood tree, up he would go after the critter, who simply hopped to a branch of a nearby tree and chattered heatedly at Jack, who sat dejectedly in the dogwood tree like an oversized gray-and-white Persian blossom. Lest you believe Jack was not a hunter, however, let me assure you he brought in his share of "gifts" to the family. One Sunday morning I left my children at home getting ready for church (my mother lived downstairs) and dashed off to the office to make copies for a Monday morning business trip. When I got home, I saw my 10- or 11-year-old son coming across the back yard from the woods. He was dressed for church, crying, and dragging the double-bladed axe. My heart stopped! Until I heard the story. Jack had brought a twitching rabbit onto the patio, and my young son told me he knew if I'd been there, I would have put the dying animal out of its misery. "But Mom, I knew you'd kill he if I used the 22-rifle," he said. Darn tootin! Instead, my kind-hearted child used the axe ... almost, but not quite, as bad as the rifle. And he managed NOT to get blood on his Sunday suit. I was so proud of him for doing that, something that he knew was the right thing to do, even though his little heart was breaking when he did it. I never saw the rabbit because my little boy took care of the problem.

Jack the Gentleman Cat probably wondered about his humans ... didn't they recognize what a gift he had shared? Usually what Jack shared was laundry time. When I would come to the basement laundry room, Jack would follow me and sit on a window sill or the dryer to talk to me while I stuffed the washer with dirty clothes. Since he spent a lot of time roaming the neighborhood, he himself would sometimes be the one who came home bloodied and scarred. One evening about dusk I got a call from a neighbor, telling me my cat had knocked over a large $100 vase on her front porch. By the time my husband got on the phone with her, the vase was worth $200. I got the car keys to go find Jack, went to the basement garage, and found Jack sound asleep on top of the car ... and the garage door was firmly closed. Not. My. Cat! Oh, you can't imagine how happily I called the woman back to inform her the naughty cat was someone else's! Jack, my sleeping fur person, was totally exonerated!

Four-Legged Friends

The Four-Legged Friends reading challenge is in memory of Sandy, Kailana's best friend of 12 years, who recently died. That's Sandy in the photo. Kailana brought Sandy home on September 20th, so we have a short lead time, but five months to complete the challenge. Read books that have an animal as the main character or an animal who plays an important enough role that you remember it afterwards. They do not have to believable, but the animals do have to be real, as in, no dragons. Kailana counts The Guardian by Nicholas Sparks, for example, because the dog in it makes the book one of her favorites. The aim is to honor our pets (even if they don't have four legs), and length doesn't matter ... reading a picture book of Bambi to your child or grandchild counts. The most outrageously fascinating thing Kailana added to her "rules" was this:

My suggested food while you are reading? Baby carrots. I used to munch on carrots and never really think to give them to Sandy, but she loves them! So, baby carrots turned into half the bag for me and the other half for her. Actually, that's what I did with her for her last night. I ate carrots with her. She did not eat a lot, but I think baby carrots will always remind me of her.

Her last "rule" is that we tell something about our pets in our introductory post. I have had a number of pets ... turtles, puppies, fish, kitties, salamander, and a hamster named Herman, for example ... but the ones I have bonded with have mostly been cats.

When I was nine years old, a neighborhood boy and I were splashing in rainy puddles when a bedraggled kitten found us. My mother said it looked like a drowned rat (well, mouse ... the kitten was very small), and Micky's mother wouldn't let him bring it into their house. After due consideration, Mother decided to let me keep the kitten. I named her Duchess, and she slipped right into our family like she had always belonged there and grew to be very regal indeed, a beautiful soft gray cat with white paws and a white spot below her chin that moved like a dog's tag when she walked. Duchess had her first litter of kittens in my drawer on top of my socks and underwear; it must have been the softest place available to her at the time. When I was in high school, we rode the regular city buses to school and home again in the afternoon, yet Duchess was always at the bus stop to meet me. How did she know which of the buses that ran every 20-30 minutes all day would be the one I rode? I don't know, but her internal clock was set and there she was, waiting to walk home with me. One part of this challenge is dedicated to the memory of Duchess.

Hmm, I was going to tell you about Duchess, Pippa, Jack, and Kiki in this post. But I think I'll tell you about the others when I post my book reviews. Since I'm about to finish a book about a dog named Merle and one about a gentleman cat, I already have two books for my list.

1. Merle's Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog ~ by Ted Kerasote ~ dedicated the memory of Pippa
2. The Fur Person ~ by May Sarton ~ dedicated to the memory of Jack
3. Cat's Eyewitness ~ by Rita Mae Brown and her cat Sneaky Pie Brown ~ dedicated to Kiki
4. Goldie (The Puppy Place Series #1) ~ by Ellen Miles ~ dedicated to the memory of Herman
5. Sign-up for this challenge ~ dedicated to the memory of Duchess
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Click on a title to read my review of the book.
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The list of participants can be found HERE.