Welcome, readers! It’s Midge again. It’s a New Year, and—for you humans at least—that means resolutions.
A new you!
Dogs like me don’t understand this concept since the only self-improvement we dogs engage in is whatever guarantees we won’t get in trouble—or won’t get caught, which is easier and better, in my opinion.
So, what did you choose this year?
Losing weight?
Spending less time on your phone?
Cutting out caffeine?
Maybe you haven’t picked one yet because you’re flawless like me.
Or maybe because you’re a mess and you don’t know where to begin.
Hence, I propose some fresh ideas originating from a canine viewpoint.
We watch you pretty closely; you know. Especially while you’re eating…
1. Take your dog for more walks. (Trust me, we appreciate this.)
2. Give your dogs more treats. (We REALLY appreciate this.)
3. Prioritize playing with us over your phone. (It’s good for you too!)
4. Be nicer to yourself (look, it bugs us when you’re down on yourself). Dog language is almost 100% body language and energy, so we sense when you feel bad, and it affects us, too.
.5. Don’t push too hard. The dishes can wait if you’re tired. Cuddle with a doggo instead!
If you don’t take time to rest and relax, how will you have the energy to take care of us?!
This is all just off the top of my fuzzy head.
Dogs know what’s important. And the most important thing to take away from my suggestions is that you’re important—to us, to your friends, family, to that houseplant you probably forgot to water.
Hey! There’s another resolution for you!
So, as we enter the New Year, remember that the person behind the resolutions is more important than the resolutions themselves.
So, don’t go so crazy trying to be the new you that you exhaust and frustrate the current you.
Okay?
Now, I better scram because I hear Melissa in the kitchen and I have to go make sure she doesn’t find what I did in there…
Happy New Year!
Category: Columnists
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Quote: Herodotus on Cats
When a cat died, a wise Egyptian tried to be someplace else so that he couldn’t be accused of murder.
— Herodotus
Quote: Christopher Hitchens on Cats
Owners of dogs will have noticed that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they will think you are God. Whereas owners of cats are compelled to realize that, if you provide them with food and water and affection, they draw the conclusion that they are God.
— Christopher Hitchens
Quote: Heinlein on Cats
There is no such thing as “Just a cat.”
― Robert A. Heinlein
How A Cat Shows Their Love, Part 2
Shy felines display affection in numerous subtle, endearing ways. Shy cats may not be loud or cuddly, but their affection is gentle and deeply trusting. Willow and I were shy cats, especially with strangers.
- Shy cats make small, polite requests for attention. They may do this by a quiet meow, sitting near you, or leaning towards your hand. I used to enjoy standing next to Daddy, and he would stand with me. Willow used to make little meows, but she only gave silent meows at first.
- Shy cats rub against objects such as doorways, walls, and furniture when you enter a room to mark the area with their scent to show they belong there. Willow loved to rub against things.
- Shy cats sometimes like to do gentle head bumps or nose kisses. It is a big compliment from a shy cat. Willow was an enthusiastic head-bumper.
- Shy cats communicate through their tails. With a slow-swishing tail and relaxed posture, the cat shows that it’s comfortable and content. A cat that holds its tail held upright with a small hook at the end is giving a friendly greeting. A cat that has its tail gently wrapped around your leg, or touching your foot or leg, is giving the equivalent of a cat hug. Daddy witnessed that action often. I used to touch his foot or leg with my tail.
- Shy cats show that they feel safe with you by quietly following you around the house, being in the same room, or sitting near you (even if not touching). Willow and I would do those things.
Each shy cat has its own special way of showing its love for you, which is both sweet and subtle. Quietly observing and letting the shy cat approach you on its terms will build the bonds of love
Cooper
Arctic Birds Migrating–A Spectacle to Enjoy
Guest Post–Angel Alma
Southeast Finland is ideally situated if you want to watch the arctic birds’ spring and especially autumn migration.
For instance, waders nesting in the North migrate in the springtime following the south coast of the country, but also those various species of geese.
Perhaps the best-known migration show for common watchers, besides the “serious” birdwatchers, is the autumnal migration of Barnacle geese. Barnacle geese nest mostly around the Barents Sea, located north of the coasts of Norway and Russia.
They fly over Finland to their wintering areas around the North Sea. (Nowadays, Finland also has their own resident population, filling lawns in the parks of Helsinki, but that’s another story…).
However, in the last 20 years, more Barnacles started taking a stopover in SE Finland, to rest and eat before continuing their journey, usually in October. They changed habits a bit by surprise, landing in front of astonished humans.
Farmers weren’t, nor are joyful, using, for example, streamers, to frighten unwelcome visitors from fields.
Earlier, it was popular for birdwatchers to travel to Northern Karelia near the eastern border, where you could watch migration from a high hill and cover even the Russian side near Lake Ladoga, if the birds took that route.
A small town near the border even organized special Geese Weeks, where they erected a big tent with a stove to grill sausages and keep warm.
In October, the weather can be chilly, and as the Geese Migration needs a northern or northeastern wind, warm clothes are essential. Not to mention the sometimes hours of standing and waiting in wind and rain, watching the empty sky.
Mum has been there to see the phenomenon jokingly called “suffer birding”. However, when the crowd approaches from afar, soaring above your person while honking, one simply admires. Serious watchers, of course, count and mark the species in exact numbers.
Nowadays, you can watch the fall migration more easily. Just walk outside, and if you are lucky, listen to the honking approaching. Observe the sky, and they approach! Or visit the nearby fields, where geese fill their tummies and gather strength.
Then one day the wind turns and starts blowing from the right direction. Birds become restless, flying a bit there and back. Finally, the urge and instinct make them rise and drift into a formation. They fly higher and leave. Until next spring.
TJ and Bart: Christmas Tree!
Bart: Good evening, Anipal Times readers! Here we are, TJ and Bart!
I’m Bart. Why is your name always first, TJ?
TJ: Dis is TJ. Bart, what difference does dat make? I think it’s because I’se a better-looking doggo.
Bart: WHAT????
TJ: Never mind, Bart. Let’s get to our subject tonight. Christmas trees.
Bart: Dis is a very important subject. Chwistmas Twees are stwange to us doggos
TJ: Yes, stwange. I mean, when we go outside to be walked, our hoomans know what we do with twees.
Bart: And our hoomans like it when we do dis. But not with dese Chwistmas trees.
TJ: Dat is stwange. And why are dese twees brought inside da house?
Bart: And da humans put all this stuff on it. Dey put decowations and lights on da twee, which is stwange. They never put dis stuff on twees outside.
TJ: And they put this…little barn with these plastic figures on it. Dey say dis is da baby Jesus.
Bart: It’s da weason for da season. Twees look nice. But when we go around dese Chwistmas twees, hooomans get nervous. Why?
TJ: Don’t dey know that we going dere to make a wish to Santa? For us to get more tweats for Chwistmas?
Bart: I mean, we had ‘accidents’ dere once or twice, but no one is perfect!
TJ: Dat wight! Okay, let’s close.
Doggos, just be careful when your hoomans bring in da Chwistmas twees. But, it’s still okay to have fun.
MEWWWY Christmas from TJ and Bart!
Raphael the Gray Tabby
A gray tabby named Raphael lived in a house during the winter polar vortex. He was a creature of habit, and his most pressing winter habit was finding the precise location of warmth.
One particularly frigid afternoon, Raph discovered a new kitty perch: the top of the heat unit. It wasn’t just warm; it was the warmest spot. As he curled up, a moment occurred: a face-warming trend. To any observer, his face glowed with blissful heat. The external heat source created feline contentment.
His human, James, noticed the trend. He knew this warmth was normal, a sign of comfort and security. But being a diligent cat owner, he also kept a watchful eye.
One evening, James observed a subtle shift. The warmth was present, yet quiet stillness, uncharacteristic of Raph, also existed. He declined his favorite salmon snack and moved with a lethargy that sent a small chill down James’s spine, colder than the winter air outside.
A quick trip to the vet confirmed his suspicions. The face-warming trend, when coupled with a loss of appetite and unusual listlessness, was not just about seeking comfort; it was a fever.
Raph, via medicine plus rest, recovered again, mastering thermal comfort. The face-warming trend returned, but this time, it was a healthy glow of a happy, warm, and well-monitored cat, who knew the difference between a cozy sunbeam and a call for his human’s gentle attention.
,
Kitten Conversations 2: Matilda Wins the Day
Matilda and Trickle are enjoying a relaxing moment on the sofa.
M: “So, I think we’ve been here for two weeks now. Are you happy in our home?”
T: “I love it! I was a bit scared when we arrived, but…”
M: (interrupting) “Scared? You were terrified of everything, like the dogs!
T: “I’d never seen a dog before! I hadn’t really seen anything; I’d spent eight weeks in one room of a house! The lady there was always cleaning, so at least I was used to the vacuum cleaner, but that’s about it.”
M: “Don’t complain; I never went into a house until I was four weeks old.”
T: “Really? Where…. where were you born and brought up then?”
M: (quietly) “I don’t really remember, but I think I was born outside. All I remember is that someone found me in a car park. I was all alone, starving and very sick.”
T: “That’s terrible! What happened next?”
M: “The lady who came to get me was lovely. I was weak and filthy and had no mum. The lady took me home, kept me in a warm room, and bottle-fed me milk until I was stronger. She took me to the vet, where they checked me over and gave me a bath. Baths are the pits! It was comfy at her house, and the dogs and adult cats there were kind to me. I was sad when she said she couldn’t keep me, but she promised she’d find me a lovely home with someone she knew and trusted. It turns out she’d known She for a few years and thought I’d be all right here. She said that it’s the perfect place for cats to live and promised that She would look after me.”
T: “I think she was right about that. They look after us so well, don’t they? Lots of meals, toys, and attention.”
M: “Well, they must pay attention to you because of the places you get to. Who would ever want to climb into a washing machine or a wood burner? You’re nuts!”
T: “The washer was empty, and the stove wasn’t lit!”
M: “You want to be careful; you’ll get into real trouble one of these days. I’m thinking your name is actually TrickleNo!”
T: “At least I knew how to use a litter tray properly; for the first few days, I had to cover up your messes for you. Eew!”
M: “Um… sorry about that. I never had a mum to teach me things like that when I should have been learning them. I didn’t have any siblings until I met you. I didn’t even know I was a kitten. I thought I was an adult cat, or maybe even a dog or a human. After we came here together, I got to know you, and everything fell into place.
T: “It’s fun, us being together, isn’t it?”
M: “It is! Except I’m sane and you’re a bit mad, and I hate it when I want to nap in peace and you won’t let me.”
T: “I get bored easily.”
M: “Tell me about it *rolls eyes*. Because of that, I now have a secret napping spot, hidden from you. So there!”
T: “You have? Where?”
M: (in a patient tone) “It’s a secret. Because of that, I won’t reveal its location. Hey look, there’s a bird on the windowsill!”
T runs to the window and eagerly looks out.
M dashes up the hall, into the bedroom, somehow climbs onto the wardrobe, and settles down in a box of winter boots.
T: “Matilda! Matildaaa! Where are you?” From high in the bedroom, where Matilda settled down for a well-earned nap, no one heard the quiet giggling
My Mom’s Christmas Puppy
As Christmas is a time that spreads so much joy, I’d like to tell you a heartwarming story about my mom and her Christmas dog, Tilly.
Tilly’s story, set in 2006, is nearly twenty years old.
So, in came Tilly! A half-dachshund, half-Bichon Frisé, with an adorable scruffy appearance that was the color of wheat, nibbled on my coat buttons throughout the entire car ride home on the night my dad and I welcomed her into the family.
We planned to keep her presence a secret for a couple of weeks until Christmas, as it was already December 13th, so we sneaked her in.
My mother’s access to my room or office by stairs became impossible because of a car wreck. The plan, thus, was to keep Tilly upstairs: fed, cuddled, entertained, plus, above all, quiet.
We were unaware, but Tilly had other ideas.
A very large and tall J.C. Penney box, open at the top with the top flaps cut off, and with a blanket and toys inside, served as a puppy playpen. The second her paws touched the blanket at the bottom, she started whining. I tried to hush her gently, and she answered with louder protests. Of course, I had her wandering around upstairs initially, but when she tried to befriend my rabbit, he ended up stomping his back feet at her, which made her run and yelp with fright out of my office, around the corner, and into my room.
Because I thought she might be lonely, I took the “playpen” with me wherever I went. Nothing doing.
To reassure her she wasn’t alone, I tried cuddling her for a long time.
While she was in the “playpen”, I tried giving her treats and playing with her.
I turned on the radio for her.
Even with the “playpen” beside my bed while I tried to sleep, she kept whining all night.
I’d reach over and pet her, and she’d stop when I did. Then I’d roll over, and she’d start up again.
I couldn’t let her onto the bed with me. She was such a tiny bean; I was afraid I’d roll over and squish her. So, instead, I spent the night alternating between petting and comforting her and her serenading me with her cries.
In the morning, I went downstairs, knowing my mom had heard Tilly and that she had ruined the surprise.
My mom couldn’t figure out why I looked so terrible.
I couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t asking me about the whining echoing down the stairwell.
Still, she hadn’t heard! She didn’t know!
There was no way I could keep Tilly a secret for another twelve days, so I brought her downstairs to my mom, saying, “Merry Christmas!”
My mom lit up like a little kid at Christmas. She was so excited, and Tilly was so excited, and I was excited but also exhausted.
My mom said she couldn’t believe we’d snuck Tilly in and kept her quiet all night! I answered that we hadn’t and told her about my sleepless night.
She was even more surprised.
My mom lowered Tilly into her playpen to go to the kitchen.
And this time Tilly didn’t whine. Instead, she Tigger-bounced off her back legs, grabbed hold of the handle that was cut into the side of the box with her front paws, lifted herself up like she was about to do a pull-up, and squeezed herself out of the handle, plopping onto the floor with a tiny thump.
She rose to her feet and wandered over to my mom, head held high.
Turns out, this was a preview of the next ten years: Tilly doing high-dives off the back of the couch, leaping over baby gates and furniture, running up vet bills and giving us minor cardiac arrest regularly, no matter the measures taken to stop the furry little Evel Knievel.
But through it all, we loved her, and she loved us. She was my mom’s very own special Christmas puppy.
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