Monthly Archives: May 2010

Happy Hug-your-Cat Day!

isabella

Have a super cute cat pic like this one? Enter it in our Hug-your-cat Day photo contest!

 

 It’s a holiday weekend, time to celebrate!  No, I’m not talking about Memorial Day.  This is much bigger.  And slightly more dangerous.  For all you feline neophytes, today is Hug-your-cat Day and the folks at SPCA Tampa Bay want to see who you’re hugging.  As part of their Adopt-a-human campaign promoting shelter cat adoptions, they’re holding a Cutest Cat Photo contest.       

 Think your kitty is the coolest thing in town?  Head over to Adopt-a-human’s Facebook page and submit your cutest/silliest cat pictures and be sure to spread the word to all your friends.  The top 10 photos that receive the most positive comments and likes on their photo status will then be forwarded to our judges: WTSP Studio 10’s hosts, Holley Sinn and Jerome Ritchey.        

 They’ll announce the top three photo winners on Studio 10 on June 2nd between 10am-11am.  And get this: the top winner and their photogenic feline will go live on Studio 10 with me, Holley and Jerome on June 9th to showcase your winning photo.  You’ll also get a special Cat Basket from the SPCA Tampa Bay Boutique filled with cat toys and accessories.   So start digging up those adorable cat pics.  (But, of course, finish reading my blog first!)          

louie

Louie likes a good cuddle, even from a box!

 

 Now, it’s only fair that I show you who I’m hugging today. I’ll be giving out four big embraces with varying degrees of success. Cat owners know, it’s not always the easiest thing to do to wrap your kitty in a big hug. Dogs? Sure. Most of them would accept a hug from anyone, even the mailman. Cats? Not so much, depending on the cat’s personality, mood and motivation. The easiest one by far for me, will be Louie.    

 If given a choice, I think Louie would opt for a lifetime-long hug. In fact, many times, I have to pry him off me, foot by fluffy foot, just to get things done. My mother-in-law calls him ‘Louie the Lump’ and for good reason. As soon as he senses me sitting down somewhere, he’s there like a flash, (those short little legs are deceptively fast,) climbing up into my lap and stubbornly settling in for the long haul. It’s very cute and sweet. For about the first three hours. Then, even this crazy cat lady has had enough.      

On the opposite end of the spectrum you have Sweetie.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s incredibly affectionate and quick to hand out a lick and a purr.  That is, when he’s on the ground.  Once he’s airborne, he turns into a wriggling, windmilling, wailing mess.   Since he spent his first few years living the feral life, he never got used to someone picking him up and no matter how much headway I make with him in the trust department, being held remains firmly on his no-no list.  I guess he’ll just have to do with a mental hug instead.  It saves him a lot of stress and me, a lot of scratches.     

rhett

Rhett has mellowed with age.

 

  My oldest cat hasn’t ever been much of a hugger either, though Rhett’s hands-off rule stems more from macho cat-itude than fear.  When he was younger he’d suffer through a short cuddle, sighing loudly to make sure you knew just how darn annoyed he was at this terrible indignity.   But maybe Rhett has mellowed with age because now I can hold, kiss and cuddle on him and feel totally confident, (well, mostly,) that he’s not leveling a crazy cat-voodoo curse on me.   If I suddenly turn into a toad, I guess we’ll know I was wrong.     

lucy jane

Don't sneak up on Lucy Jane when she's sleeping unless you want a slap in the face!

 

 My last hug will be handed out to Lucy Jane, the little stray who is deaf.   Lucy has no problem with the hugging itself since she craves affection at an almost Louie-like level.  I just have to carefully consider how to deliver the hug.   If I ‘sneak’ up on her, she’ll be hanging from the ceiling before I can even get my arms around her.   

 I often forget about Lucy Jane’s disability and her aversion to surprises and end up scaring her to death by approaching her from behind or when she’s asleep.  Word to the wise if you ever visit my home: unless you want to incite a flurry of punching paws accompanied by ear-piercing yowls, make sure Lucy Jane sees you well before you touch her.  

You have until May 30th to submit the pictures of who *you’re* hugging to Adopt-a-human’s Facebook page.  We already have close to 50 submissions so be sure to get yours in on time and spread the word to your family and friends to vote for you.  Good luck!

The Name Game

maho

She's named after a beach so Maho loves to surf!

What’s in a name?  Well, when it comes to our pets, a lot. Most of us put a lot of thought and time into picking out just the right name for our animal. Unlike with our children, it’s our chance to let our creative freak flag fly without fear of them one day being traumatized by the playground bully. Name your child something weird or silly and they’ll be paying for it for years to come. Name your dog or cat something off the wall and their playmates couldn’t care less. (Now, put them in sweaters or bows, and that’s a different story.) But as much work as we put into picking those names, have you noticed that many of us promptly stop using them in favor of crazy nicknames or even downright gibberish? I’ll give you an example. Actually, I’ll give you six of them. 

rhett

He's as dashing and debonair as the real Rhett Butler, no?

 The first cat I ever owned as an adult is Rhett. If you’re a ‘Gone with the Wind’ fan you know where that moniker came from. I had just discovered the dangerous, dashing character of Rhett Butler thanks to a boyfriend addicted to old movies. I was completely swept away by the rocky romance of Rhett and Scarlett and couldn’t wait to bestow that name on my cat. (On a side note, I was so enamored of the movie that I also named my hamster Scarlett. Unfortunately she passed away many years ago, and no, it wasn’t at the hands of Rhett.) But as much as I love that name, I found myself calling him almost anything but Rhett. It started with ‘Boots,’ thanks to his little white feet. Somehow that degenerated into ‘Booter’, then, ‘Bud’, then ‘Budrow’ and finally into ‘Bubba lou.’ Try following that chain of thought.

That trend continued when we got our second cat, Ally. I’m not ashamed to admit we named her after the character Ally McBeal. (Come on, it was a huge hit and you KNOW that dancing baby was hilarious!) Anyway, since she was such a sweet girly cat, so dainty and petite, I almost immediately started calling her ‘Girls.’ Then I added princess to it, as in ‘Princess Girls.’ She was also known to respond to ‘Princess feet’ or ‘Girly cat.’ Yeah, I know, clever nicknames are not my forte.

louie

Louie, the Heavyweight Champion!

Now, those of you who know me from my time in television news may not believe this next one, but my third cat was named in honor of a boxing champion.  I know I don’t look like the typical boxing fan, but trust me, put me in a bar with 100 men watching two men duke it out and I’ll be the one screaming for blood the loudest.  Just about the time my favorite heavyweight, Lennox Lewis, was enjoying huge success, we got our Persian kitten and I decided to pay homage to the heavyweight great by naming the new kitty after him.   I thought Lewis was a tad formal for the kitten’s silly, smushed face, so I shortened it a bit and voila! We had Louie.   Over the years, Louie has turned into ‘Lou Lou’, ‘Lulu-belle’, Boo, Booie, Boozer and Booher.  I’m just assuming that’s how they’re spelled since, as far as I know, gibberish cat nicknames are not included in a dictionary.     

  Next came Sweetie, who I’ve mentioned before, I didn’t actually name.  One of my fellow crazy cat ladies at work named him that when she discovered him living in the woods behind the TV station.  Since he was used to it and would actually respond to it when we’d call him, the name stuck.   It turns out, it fits his sweet and loving personality perfectly.  Even so, it wasn’t long after I took him home that I started in with the nicknames.   ‘Sweets’ came first, then “Tweeter”, “Tweetie” and finally, just plain “Tweets.”  (I’m wondering if I can claim some naming rights money from Twitter since I came up with that, like, six years ago??)     

lucy

Lucy Jane with her ugly yellow cast.

By the time I found our soon to be fifth cat, injured in a CVS parking lot, I was running a little low on creative name juice.  But as I sat with her in our ‘cat rehab’ room while she recuperated from surgery on her foot, a light went off.  I should skip a step and give her a name that’s already a nickname. My dad, who passed away many years ago, always called me ‘Lucy Jane’ when I was growing up, so I figured I would pass along my childhood moniker in his honor.   Now, occasionally, I’ll call her ‘Lucy-cat’ or ‘Little girl’, but since her name means so much to me, I mostly stick to calling her Lucy Jane.  (Ironically, the ONE cat I call by their given name the most is the deaf one, and can’t even hear her name!)      

maho bay

Maho Bay, St. John, U.S.V.I.-our dog's namesake

As for our dog, I gave her naming honors to my husband, and I must say he did quite well.  He named her Maho, after our favorite little beach on the Caribbean island of St. John where we hope to retire someday.  Not that it really matters, since I started calling her crazy nicknames right off the bat.  Maho is, at various times, known by Mee-maw,  Meems, Mi-mi and Mims.  And like the good dog that she is, she responds to all of them.  Especially when there’s cheese involved.      

I know I’m not alone in my nickname-itis.   What silly, bizarre nicknames have you bestowed upon your animals?  I’d love to hear them and share them with our fans on SPCA Tampa Bay’s Adopt-a-human facebook page.  Head over to our facebook page and leave us your thoughts in the comments section under the blog.   And be sure to check back with my blog next week, when I’ll have details about how you and your animals can win some cool prizes and even a chance to strut your stuff on TV!

Feral feline adventures

          

sweetie

A very skinny Sweetie when I first brought him home.

Hey gang!  I hope all you pet mommies out there had a great Mother’s Day!  My four kitties and dog got me the sweetest card, though I’m pretty sure they had a little help from Dad when it came to signing it.              

Anyway, as I’ve mentioned before, the reason I’ve teamed my animal blog up with the Adopt-a-human campaign is to bring awareness to all the fantastic qualities cats possess and how they can enrich anyone’s life, from any walk of life.  The campaign also wants to educate people about the cat crisis happening at many shelters here and around the country.  The fact is, kittens, puppies and adult dogs are all easier to adopt out than adult cats.  One thing aggravating that fact is the feral cat population, something I have a good bit of knowledge about.  If you’ve stopped by this site before, you may recall that our third cat Sweetie, was a feral cat living behind my old TV station when I found him.  I mentioned in my first blog how it was pretty hard to tame him, but almost downright impossible to get him to our house and I promised to give you all the dishy details about that two week saga.  So, here goes:               
  

Our station was moving to a new building in June of 2004, and after spending the past three years patiently feeding and taming Sweetie, I decided there was no way I could just abandon him there.  But the week before I was planning to take him home, Sweetie threw a wrench into my plans in the form of a terrible fight with another cat.  He showed up late one night behind the station, limping in pain, his right paw crooked and very swollen.    

A very fat and contented Sweetie, with his mom

At that point, I thought he’d been hit by a car and I totally freaked out.  I knew I had to get him to a vet right away, even though it was about 11 at night.  I ran inside and found one of my fellow animal lovers and told her what was going on.  As luck would have it, she had a cat carrier and some blankets in her van, so we grabbed those and ran back outside.  Now, in the best of times, Sweetie was still very skittish and cautious, even with me, and now that he was hurt, he was on high alert.  He took one look at me and my friend armed with the carrier and blankets and quickly hopped off, squeezing through a small hole in a fence surrounding one side of the building.  The fence stretched about forty feet long, but was only fencing in about a five foot width of grass.  Sweetie was crouching about halfway between the two ends of the fence and watching us warily to see what we would do.  What we did was decide our only choice was to climb that eight foot high fence and try to trap him.       

A couple of our photographers were still inside the building at that time, and had one of them by chance walked out to catch the next ten minutes on video, they would have had the next You Tube sensation.   Picture this;  I’m still in my business suit, in a skirt, with about four inch stilettos on, and there I was, climbing shakily up that fence with a blanket clamped under one arm.  My friend was at the opposite end of the fence, climbing that side with a lot more ease than I was.  Or at least I thought she was until I heard this LOUD ripping sound, an ‘oh @#$@,’ then silence, then a faint ‘I’m okay!’   I heard her drop to the ground as I climbed carefully over the top of the fence, giving anyone who happened to be watching, quite the show I’m sure.  Finally, my stilettos hit the ground and we were ready to rock and roll.  Sweetie, however, was just ready to roll.     




Is this the face of a troublemaker??
He sat tensely and watched as my friend (in her now completely ripped and ruined shirt,) came at him from one side with the cat carrier, and I approached him from the other with the blanket.  We made it to about within three feet of him and I was just getting ready to throw the blanket over him, when he pulled a move that would make Walter Payton proud.  He faked to the left, then immediately darted right, running by me before I even really knew what had happened.  Fortunately, since he was  injured, Sweetie’s speed was not up to par and even in my heels, I was able to catch up to him as he awkwardly climbed the fence.

 I lunged at him as he crested the top of it, my hand just grazing his back legs, reaching, grasping for him, but it was too late.  He slipped through my fingers, jumped to the ground and I watched in shock as he took off into the neighborhood behind the station.   I navigated the fence again, no more gracefully than I did before, and spent the next 30 minutes calling his name and shaking his bag of food, but to no avail.              

 The next morning I called my vet and told him what happened, (he had the good grace not to laugh at my fence-climbing antics,) and he came up with a new plan for me.  He gave me some cat tranquilizers and told me to keep an eye out for Sweetie.  He said since it appeared I was Sweetie’s only source of cat food, he was sure Sweetie would eventually show up at the station again, even being hurt and likely traumatized from our ill-fated attack.  I kept the pills in my desk over the next two days, frequently running out back between anchoring the news to look for any sign of him, (and to any of my former managers reading this, yes, I’m well aware this was not how I was supposed to be spending ‘company time,’ but come on!)   I had just about given up, when late on the third day of his disappearance, my fence friend came running up to the anchor set, yelling ‘He’s here! Sweetie’s back!”  

sweetie louie

It took some doing, but Sweetie now chills with his siblings.

Of course he’d come back right when I was in the middle of the newscast and could NOT, under any circumstances, get up to go try to tranquilize a cat.  I told me friend where the pills were and begged her to put them in his food and have the cat carrier ready to go when he finally gave in to the sedatives.  She took off on her mission and for the next 30 minutes, I sat anxiously on the set, reading the news without really even comprehending it, worrying in my head that this wouldn’t work and he’d be lost forever.

Finally, the newscast done, I bolted to the back door of the station and opened it just in time to see my poor friend closing the cat carrier door on a snarling Sweetie, her arms scratched all to hell and bleeding.  Turns out, even with enough sedatives to fell a big dog in him, Sweetie’s feral fight instinct was strong enough to overcome them.  He was definitely woozy but still alert enough to put up quite the fight as my friend’s arms could attest.               

Now, this saga doesn’t end here, not by a long shot, but I’ll save that for another day.   Suffice to say, Sweetie made it through and made it home to my house, where he’s been living quite comfortably for the past six years, snoring loudly in our bed every night.  As for my fence friend?  I think I still owe you a drink for your troubles.  And probably a new shirt.               

 So what are your feline adventure stories?  All my fellow cat addicts at Adopt-a-human’s facebook page would love to hear about your funny, sweet, keystone cops-like dealings with your cats.  Write about your antics in the comments section under today’s blog.  Tell your friends too, since the more cat fans we have, the more cats we can spread the word and save cat’s lives!                   

  

     

                 

   

National Pet Week

Me and part of my brood-Maho, Rhett and Louie

Unconditional love is a beautiful thing.  I get big doses of it every day from my five animals and I never take the joy their love brings to me for granted.  I’m sure all you pet owners out there know exactly what I’m talking about, but since this is National Pet Week, I’d like you to take a special moment to really think about and appreciate the happiness your pets have brought to your life.  Ahhhhhh, that was nice, huh?

Now, that said, I admit having five animals running around the house can be a lot of work.  Consider the shedding issues alone, especially now that it’s springtime and they’re all losing their winter coats.  I can run the vacuum every day (and I have, like three different kinds of vacuums being the neat freak that I am,) and still I find hair.  It’s on the floor, on the couches and chairs, on the sheets, and don’t even get me started on our clothes.  I probably keep those tape roll people in business from just rolling hair off my black clothes alone. (Why do I still buy black? Why, oh why??)  Then, there are those tumbleweeds of hair that collect on the stairs and under the beds and seem to multiply faster than bunnies.  I don’t have enough arms, or vacuums, to keep up.  You’d think the daily brushing I give the animals would help, but even though I have enough hair left over to form a whole new cat after grooming just my Persian, there still seems to be plenty left over to drive me crazy.

Sweetie chowing down, making a mess

And what’s up with the sloppy eating habits?  I don’t own any pigs but I might as well.  Every single one of my cats and even the dog have a certain way of eating and apparently it’s designed to make sure as much of their food as possible will fall on the floor.  I’ve studied this people, and it’s just not right.  They’ll pick up a mouthful of food from the bowl, then STEP AWAY from the bowl to start chewing.  Meanwhile, half the kibble they picked up is now falling out of their mouths and scattering everywhere.  They’re literally ingesting only about a third of the food they put in their mouths.   Do I have a bunch of animals with eating disorders?  Did I accidentally call them fat one day and now they have a complex? Whatever the reason, I do know where you’ll find me after each feeding time: on all fours, paper towels and Clorox cleaner in hand, gathering up food bits and crumbs, only to then turn around and CRUNCH! Yep, another piece of food squashed underfoot.

Louie, Ally and Rhett at the 'trough'

Then, there are the lovely litter boxes to handle.  We have three boxes placed strategically around the house.  Two are upstairs and one downstairs so the cats can easily find them no matter where they may roam during the night.   But, either they’ve all taken a blood oath or there’s something magical about the box in the back bedroom, because it’s basically the only one they will use.  When I go to clean them each day, (and it’s always me, never my husband, go figure) two of the boxes are pristine and the other one is…well, you can imagine with four cats using it.  As clean as cats are, I can’t fathom why they all want to muck around in just one, stinky box.  I’ve tried luring them to the other ones, even going so far as to pick them up and put them in front of the boxes, saying loudly and slowly, ‘This. Is. A. Clean. Box. Use. It. For pete’s sake!’   But for some reason they still haven’t gotten the message.  I guess I should should just chuck the other ones and submit to their will, but call me an eternal optimist.  I live for the day when I find cat poop in another box. (Wow, that’s sad.)

So between the hair, the messy eating and the lone, dirty litter box, my animals keep me hard at work.  But would I have it any other way?  No way.  For every tumbleweed I capture and couch I vacuum, there’s a sweet kiss and a lick of my hand.  For every backache I incur from cleaning litter boxes, there’s a soft purr that lulls me to sleep.   For every time I clean up their crumbs, there’s the warm feeling of them snuggling in my arms.   It’s that unconditional love thing I was talking about.  You just can’t beat it, no matter the cost.

What would you like the world to know about your animal during this National Pet Week?  Leave us your thoughts and stories in the comment section of our Adopt-a-human Facebook page at http://bit.ly/adoptahumanfacebook .  And if you’d like to experience the amazing love that animals can bring to your life, please consider finding your new friend at SPCA Tampa Bay, http://bit.ly/spcatampabay.