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.
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Category: Columnists
This category is for a columns page that shows all the columnists posts.
Betty and Rita Go To Paris by Judith E. Hughes
Wavy Paws. Today, I am reviewing a picture book travelogue for Meet Me At The Bookshelf called Betty and Rita Go to Paris with Text by Judith E. Hughes and Photographs by Michael Malyszko.
Ah, Paris. What could be better?
The French Crown Jewels, you say?
A little robbery at the Louvre, you say.
No, indeed. Just feast your eyes on the 84 pages of the City of Lights as seen by two adorable black labradors, Betty, age 11, and Rita, age 7.
Woof, what? You saw a picture of Betty and Rita lingering outside the Louvre?
*Cough* Well, page 26, right? They look thrilled there.
Um, no.
No one they know planned that heist. This is way before that event.
This 1999 book is a gorgeous photo journal instead; indeed, it’s a love note to dogs and travel.
I give it five paws way up.
Paris lends itself to great photography. These top dogs enliven Paris, featuring joyous photos alongside poetic writings within the pages. You will dream of big-city lights and your own furry friend.
Did you ever wish you could see Jim Morrison’s grave with your peeps?
Enjoy the Eiffel Tower all lit up at night?
Do you ever want to see the original Notre Dame Cathedral?
Sniff out a Hunchback or a baguette?
I do. I think books transport us into worlds we would love to explore. You may reside in Paris briefly, nods, if you suspend reality.
Sort of like you must suspend disbelief when the peeps tell you your dinner bowl is late, da nerve, because of a random “time change.”
As we move into fall and my favorite season, winter with all the snow, we like to look at this book to inspire my pup outings.
My momma reads this lovely book aloud to me and did it for all my sisfurs before me. In fact, my biggest sisfur, woo do not know her, she got to travel with my peeps to Paris, nod, nod. Her picture gives me joy, picturing them present in April, with budding trees, my dish full, on schedule, dear woman.
Oh, I digress.
Betty and Rita pose at all the most important Parisian places.
My crucial locale, however, exists here, alongside Momma.
Betty and Rita, like all pups, pose while eating, romping, wrestling, and leaping about in fountains. They no doubt got treats for all the posing *looks longingly at my dinner bowl*.
I loved these two Labradors, and I know you will too.
Ooh look, dinner is here. Gotta run. See you next time when you Meet Me At The Bookshelf.
Wuv You.
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.
Quote: Joanna Lumley on Cats
My mother early on taught us to respect all animals, and I mean all animals – not just cats and dogs but rats and snakes and spiders and fish and wildlife, so I really grew up believing they are just like us and just as deserving of consideration.
— Joanna Lumley
Badgers
A little intro to the European Badger……our black and white stripy friend.
| Life Span: | 5 – 7 years (typical in wild). Have been known to live up to 13 years. |
| Body Length: | 75cm (30″) head to tail. 90cm (35″) max. |
| Weight: | 10 – 12kg (22 – 26lbs) average. 23 – 27kg (51 – 60lbs) heaviest recorded. |
| Distribution: | Found throughout Europe with sub-species present in all continents except the Arctic and Antarctic. Particularly abundant in Britain and Ireland with the majority found in southern England. |
Badgers are stocky, short-legged animals that are easily recognisable by the black and white stripes that run from their nose to shoulders. They have small heads and eyes with a thick short neck and long wedge-shaped body that ends with a short tail.
Their powerful short legs end with paws, each having five digits, which are tipped with long, thick, sharp claws. This makes them very efficient diggers.
Black and white hair covers the badger’s body, making it appear grey from a distance. They have black chests and legs, a highly distinguishable black-and-white striped head with black ears that are tipped with white. Some badgers have different colour variations, such as ginger (erythristic) instead of black (melanistic). Also, some can be white (albino).
It’s difficult to tell male from female badgers. Males are slightly larger and heavier than females and normally have a wider head and a longer, thinner and lighter coloured tail.
Badgers are nocturnal animals that spend most of their lives underground in burrows called setts. They have highly social behaviour and live in family groups of up to 12 individuals. These groups display signs of hierarchy, with a dominant boar and sow leading the group.
Around dusk, they usually leave their setts to forage for food throughout the night until dawn, when they return to the safety of their sett.
Badgers can live in a wide range of habitats. Badgers mainly live on the edges of woodlands and pastures. They also live in scrubland, under hedgerows, in old quarries, on moorlands and open fields. Sometimes, they even live in gardens on housing estates.
The badger must select habitat offering plentiful food year-round. The site also must be secluded and well covered to allow inconspicuous emergence from setts. It also needs to be free from disturbance.
What are they up to this time of year…
Badgers have spent October fattening up for winter and, weather dependent, will continue this in November.
People may see increased activity in gardens where badgers visit and more snuffle holes in their lawns.
Badgers are omnivores. Their diet consists mainly of earthworms and grubs but can also include frogs, small mammals, birds, eggs, lizards, insects, plant bulbs, seeds and berries. They love peanuts and jam sandwiches as a treat.
TJ and Bart: Tail Sniffing
Bart: Hewwo, Anipal Times Readers! This is Bart, and we, TJ and Bart, are ready to write another column.
TJ: Dis is TJ, and dis is an important column. Doggos have asked us dis question: Why do our humans become upset when we sniff each other’s tails?
Bart: It is stwange, TJ. What is da problem with them?
TJ: They do not know dat is how we greet each other! We check each other out when we do dat! But humans just get all weird about it.
Bart: Hoomans, y’all do weird things too, like when we poop outside, y’all gather it in paper bags. Why do you want to save our poop?
TJ: I never figured dat one out, Bart.
Bart: Hoomans are strange. Anyway, for you hoomans, when we sniff each other’s tails, it’s our way of saying hello.
TJ: You can tell a lot about a doggo by sniffing its tail.
Bart: Exactly. You know den if you can twust da other dog. If you smell da wong thing, it’s no good
TJ: Dis is how we bweak da ice at da dog parks. Other doggos can be nervous, but when we sniff their tails, it rewaxes dem.
Bart: Dat’s wight. So, for you doggos, be patient with your humans. Dey are stwange.
TJ: And for humans, try to be more understanding. We will twy to be understanding with you.
Until next time. Woof woof!
Why You Should Consider Adopting An Older Cat
I am loving, affectionate, and I need a home.
While kittens are small, cute, and full of fun, there is a group of cats that often gets overlooked at shelters–older cats. Cats like me, and other older cats, have lots of love to give and may be a better choice for your home.
When adopting an older cat, you will save a life. Older cats are often the last to be adopted and the first to be euthanised. The satisfaction of giving an older cat a home is a wonderful feeling. My mummy feels immense gratitude for providing a home for me after an extended period of my lacking one.
Older cats are thankful that someone gave them a home for their senior years. They make loyal and loving companions. I love my mummy, who has given me a home of my own.
Kittens need a lot of supervision as they are curious and mischievous. Older cats are more sensible and relaxed, but still enjoy some playtime. They like the simple pleasures of a warm lap, sun puddles, and a quiet place to nap. Strictly speaking, I am not an older cat, being only four years and seven months old, but I can be naughty and silly.
Since older cats have developed personalities, you know what you are getting. Whether you are looking for a lap cat or an independent companion, you can find the perfect fit for your home.
While many people are concerned about medical costs for older cats, shelters will provide medical histories. Some cats require medication, and others may be in excellent health, but you will know in advance. With kittens, their future health is unknown. I had some minor health complaints, but I am in excellent health now.
In conclusion, when you choose to adopt an older cat, you change your life and gain a loyal and loving friend. Older cats deserve a loving, forever home, too. Contact your local animal shelters or rescue organisations to find your new family member. You won’t regret it.
The Cat Who Ate the Sun
by @kittehboi & Nightcafe Studio.
“The Cat Who Ate the Sun” is a mythical story explaining the origin of tortoiseshell cats. According to the legend, the sun became a black cat to visit the Earth. When the sun left, it left behind its fire in the patches of red and orange in the torties’s coat.
This is why Tortoiseshell cats are so popular, because they seem to carry a spark of the sun itself.
Kissy Noses and Deeper Thoughts
Do you ever notice that your peeps do not know the names of the other peeps at the dog park and just call them Sparky’s dad and Ike’s mom?
Do you ever wonder why the eggs come in a carton with twelve in them, but the peeps act like a hero when giving you one whole, big-deal egg? #danerve #moreplease
Do you ever wonder what peeps dream about when they go sleepies? Is it rabbits, squirrels, and running through lakes, like us?
Do you ever wonder why your closet is a millionth the size of your peeps’? #dogmariekondoit
Do you ever wonder why we must get a bath when we roll in fun, delightfully free items at the park?
Do you ever wonder why dogs must fly in a tiny cage on the airplane when the humans are the ones ready to rumble, misbehaving, and tossing drinks at each other?
Do you ever wonder why your peeps close the restroom door when the two of woo are home alone, but when you are on your walkies, they constantly stare right at you, steal your droppings, and give you no privacy at all?
Do you ever wonder why your peeps place a container full of tasty delights they call leftovers in the middle of the room where you eat and then yell at you when you jump up and eat it?
Do you ever wonder what those water drops are coming out of Momma’s eyes and how easily a hug from me just makes it stop? #Sassysuperpower
Do you ever wonder why your peeps cut down a gigantic tree, place it in a bowl and put attractive, shiny balls, strings of popcorn and cranberries on it but yell at you when you pounce it to the ground and eat the tree?
Do you ever wonder why it is more fun to play with the box your toy comes in instead of the actual toy?
Do you ever notice that we can smell someone opening a packet of chips a mile out and can be there in under a second to ask for one?
Do you ever wonder why the human takes all the gorgeous snow and grumbles and groans while making a space for peeps to walk in, rather than pounce through it with his tongue hanging out, like you do?
Do you ever wonder why the peeps squeeze you into a tiny sweater to go out in the snow, when you have two pounds of fur on already?
Do you ever wonder what is in that big, humming box and why you don’t have one? You live here, too.
The Anipal Times 