Work with animals is a source of suffering to all of us. We treat them like babies who cannot speak. The more time passes, the more I’m sorry about it. We shouldn’t have done it. We did not learn enough from the mission to justify the death of the dog.
— Russian scientist Oleg Gazenko, 1998, speaking about Laika, the first dog in space.
Category: Columnists
This category is for a columns page that shows all the columnists posts.
Bob’s Your Agony Uncle
Hello everyone, and let me introduce myself.
My name is Bob and I am going to be your resident Agony Uncle on Anipal Times from December.
Please come along and support this wonderful publication, the Anipal Times, with lots of fab features, articles, puzzles, and musings.
Hope to be able to help you all soon with things like my human is trying to trick me by breaking my treat in half, or my human made me have a bath after I had just gotten my Au’D’Fox just perfect. You name it, and will can solve these dilemmas together.
Until then
Bob 😊
Lola’s Story
Thursday, the 2nd, started out like any other day since I had moved in with Hoosis after Hoomum became ill.
My breakfast followed my usual walk before I settled into the day. Then something different happened. I noticed that all my possessions were being boxed up. I previously witnessed this during my travels from Hoomum’s to this location.
Could this mean that Mum was better, and I was returning home to her? I certainly hope so. My 11th birthday was 2 days earlier; what a present this would have been.
Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. The day continued as normal, and my possessions just sat there.
A doorbell broke the silence, and to everyone’s surprise, I didn’t bark. I stood and watched as 2 strangers entered. Did they come to bring me home?
Once more, I didn’t bark at the man, which surprised everyone. Instead, I walked over to him and stood beside him, waiting for some fuss.
I always barked at anyone who appeared near the entrance, and then again when the individual proved male. Once they moved into the lounge, I again surprised them by continuing to stay beside him.
After a brief chat, I was again walking. It did not fit into my routine. This escorting individual was odd.
What was going on?
The walk ended unexpectedly with me beside a vehicle near home. The individual remained with me while others entered the building, afterward exiting with everything I owned.
Surely this means that I am going home.
Those I met here appeared, spoke to me, and showered me with attention. I noticed Hoosis had tears in her eyes as she talked and fussed over me. They exchanged my collar for a harness, and I boarded the vehicle’s compartment while they loaded baggage.
As we drove away, I looked out all the windows to keep Hoosis in sight until she disappeared from my sight. I then continued to examine various windows, noting location, until the route straightened, later settling once the view lost interest.
My subconscious stirred me from slumber upon detecting a shift in pace or course, prompting me to sit up, observe, before returning to slumber as the journey’s routine resumed.
Finally, we re-entered developed sectors; it proved crucial to pay attention.
It did not appear familiar; thus, I was not returning home to Mum.
I confirmed my suspicions when we finally stopped on the driveway of a house that wasn’t Mum’s house.
I hopped out of the car, and more strangers greeted me, but it didn’t last long because I climbed back into the car and into the driver’s seat. Someone ushered me into the back seat, and we were underway once again.
A short car ride ensued, and in next to no time we pulled onto another driveway. I didn’t recognise this place either.
I swiftly exited the car and had a good sniff around the plants in the front garden, checking the surroundings, before being led indoors.
My possessions followed, and I realized this was my new life, with my new family in my new home.
Hopefully, this time it will be forever. We shall see.
Quote: Milan Kundera on Dogs and Eden
Dogs are our link to paradise. They don’t know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring—it was peace.
— Milan Kundera, “The Unbearable Lightness of Being“
Quote: Lewis Thomas On Meddling
Is it not in the nature of complex social systems to go wrong, all by themselves, without external cause? Look at overpopulation, look at Calhoun’s famous model, those overcrowded colonies of rats and their malignant social pathology, all due to their own skewed behavior. Not at all, is my answer. All you have to do is find the meddler, in this case Professor Calhoun himself, and the system will put itself right. The trouble with those rats is not the innate tendency of crowded rats to go wrong, but the scientists who took them out of the world at large and put them in too small a box.
— Lewis Thomas, “The Medusa and the Snail“
Giant Pumpkin
Did you ever wonder why your peeps take a carefully selected, perfectly tasty, giant pumpkin and carve it like a crazy person, stick it in the yard, and tell you to stay away from it? #doneanddone
–Kissy Noses and Deeper Thoughts by Sassy
Caturday Confessions
This is the first official post for Caturday Confessions!
Who was naughty this week?
I’ll start.
I have two water bowls. One is a stainless steel bowl that’s my favorite to drink from. The other is a plastic ‘travel’ bowl with a rimmed lid that’s supposed to make it spill-proof.
I learned how to pry that rimmed lid off about a week after Mom brought the bowl home, but that’s another conversation.
I use that bowl to wash my paws after I use my litterbox. I don’t like when the litter gets on my paws, and that water bowl is perfect for washing.
I’ve been seeing how far I can splash the water while I’m cleaning my paws. I proudly splash water several feet away from my bowl.
How pawsome is that?
Proudly signed by Truman
Kitten Conversations
Hello friends and readers! My name is Squirt. I was an avid reader of the Anipal Times, and I’m so excited that it’s back! This edition promises to surpass its predecessors; therefore, I am honoured to write for the inaugural issue of this fresh publication!
Although, as will become clear, this will not be a regular column about me.
I think many of you will know me from Twitter as @SquirtTheCat, and you may also know that I peacefully strolled across the Rainbow Bridge earlier this year. Please don’t feel sad for me! I had a good, long life full of love and adventure, and I made the most of every single day.
However, I couldn’t bear the thought of my house and my humans without a cat, so I set out to point them toward not one, but two rescue kittens. Trickle is a ginger boy (like me) born on May 10th this year. His former feral mother birthed offspring inside the rescue and then pursued existence elsewhere as a neutered farm cat.
Rescuers found Matilda, a pretty black and white kitten, alone in a supermarket car park. They estimate she is about a month old, like Trickle, the other kitten. Our phenomenal local cat lady, who also runs a rescue centre, nursed her back to health because she was starving, filthy, and close to death.
Staff and Manstaff brought both kittens home on July 20th.
I can watch my home and family from the Bridge, allowing observation of the kittens settling and becoming familiar with their forever dwelling. I’ve been eavesdropping on their conversations.
Are you curious about kitten chatter? Observe this! I’m going to share their chat with you.
This column isn’t about me, so Matilda, Trickle, it’s over to you….
M: “Remember the day we met?”
T: “Yeah, we didn’t know each other, we didn’t know the people in the car, and we didn’t know where we were going. That was a scary day.”
M: “The other cats I knew were huge! You were tiny.”
T: “I was the fourth-biggest kitten in the litter!”
M: “Tell me again, how many were in the litter?”
T: “Five.”
M: *rolls eyes*
T: “I thought you were cute.”
M: “I thought you were weird.”
T: “We’re alright though, aren’t we? You and I, we’re friends and… like brofur and sisfur.”
M: “Yeah, I suppose we are. I’m glad I’m not an only kitten anymore.”
T: “Do you think we look a bit alike?”
M: “You’ve been at the ‘nip, you have. “
T: “Have not.”
M: “Have. Have, have, have, have, have!”
T: *shakes head* “Girls…”
M “Wanna play? Tunnel chase?”
T: “Tired, could do with a nap.”
M: *shakes head* “Boys…”
Oh, those two kittens! I love to watch them and listen to them. Join me next time as I bring you more from them!
A Beautiful Walk
The scent of fishing bait and the cool fall air are the first things that greet me as I get to the reservoir across the street from my home. I quickly direct my human to the walking path along the lake. My ears flap as I trot, the gentle breeze and smells moving me along to the wildflowers growing amongst the tall grass. Ohhhh, the human holding my leash is moving at a good pace, but my nose wants to linger, to follow the grassy mud trails left by the folks fishing, sailing, and rowing.
Wildflowers win! I see the first burst of color. Dotted across the green bank, a field of wildflowers sways in the breeze. There are fresh smells, the scent of mildew, the muddy roots, and a flirty butterfly I chase. I pull on my leash, my tail thumping with excitement, and my human lets us wander farther down the path.
I bury my nose in a clump of yellow petals, barking for fun and smelling it all. The scent tells an entire story: of the sun, the soil, and the other creatures that have passed by. Beyond the flowers, the reservoir shimmers, its surface a vast reflecting mirror. The scent of fish and cool water mixes with the wildflowers, creating a perfect scent just for me. I pause, looking up at the wide sky, and then let my beagle nose lead the way once more. There are so many stories to sniff out, and I have all the time in the world to read them to you again soon.
Midge the Mutt’s Introduction
Welcome to everyone reading the Anipal Times and this article! My name is Sunny, and I’m the cartoonist behind Midge.
Okay, above is where the cartoonist stopped to get up and get more coffee, and use the bathroom. I have only a few minutes before she comes back, so let’s get to it.
I’m Midge, and I’m the actual star of the show. Admit it. Nobody cares about the cartoonist; they care about the star. It’s like a sitcom—you don’t want to know about how the writer got started; you want to hear about the actors, about the face of the entertainment.
So, that’s what I’m here for.
I’m a dog, a mutt specifically, a part dachshund, part Beagle, part Basset, I think. My ears are super long, so I’m pretty sure there’s Basset in there.
I came into being in 1996 when the cartoonist was still young and drawing all my comics with a pencil on notebook paper. She was trying to be the next Bill Watterson, Charles Schulz, or Jim Davis, or a combo of the three. I don’t know.
Mighty ambitious for a little kid.
Anyway, a rescue dog named Bridget, whom the cartoonist had as a kid, inspired her to create me, even though we didn’t look alike. In fact, the stuffed dog the cartoonist played with inspired my design.
Because a kid created me, she drew me poorly at first.
So, as the cartoonist got older, she redesigned me and the other characters in our cast (who are also less important than I am) and started improving her jokes. I kid you not, the very first punchline of my very first comic was “I take pride in my droppings.”
How’s that for an embarrassing start? I’m ready for Nickelodeon now! Just kidding. Anyone who knows me knows I would never sell myself to a network. I’m an independent doggo.
Since 2008, when my cartoonist began my online presence with the Official Midge website (now gone) and a year later as @MidgetheMutt on Twitter (happily still there, and I’m not calling it X), I’ve released three indie books featuring my comics!
I also have a store on Zazzle called MidgeShop (wink, wink) https://www.zazzle.com/store/midgeshop/products
She was glad when the syndicate columns rejected her.
That can make this tougher, of course, because we must do all our marketing ourselves. I work my paws to the bone! It’s hard but rewarding!
Now, enough about my dazzling career. You want to know about me.
Well, I’m adventurous, silly, and I love, love, LOVE socks (I think I might have a problem).
As for the cartoonist, she’s human, loves animals, and has a bunch of her own. To clear up a common misconception, I’m not one of them.
Melissa (my human in my comics) is not a cartoonist. Though I’m sure there’s a lot of Sunny-isms in Melissa’s reactions to my antics. Just like there’s a lot of Sunny’s doggos in those aforementioned antics.
Uh-oh. I hear her coming back, so I’ve got to wrap this up. I’ll end by saying that I hope the cartoonist and I entertain you, dear reader, with our comics, our future articles, and my boundless canine charm.
Now, go hug your furbabies!
The Anipal Times 