Archive for the ‘Animals’ Category
I heard that a friend’s dog got sprayed by a skunk this week. That brought up memories of LC.
When we lived in the mobile home we adopted a cat from the shelter. We named her LC which stands for ‘Loud Lat’ as she was part Siamese and vocalized a lot. My husband said that LC could also stand for ‘lazy cat’, ‘little cat’ ‘lousy cat’ or ‘lap cat’ depending on the situation.
This mobile home had skirting around the bottom with a gap in it. One spring, LC would disappear for a while and we would hear bumping under the house. We would joke that LC was playing with baby skunks under the house. We were suspicious that a skunk family was living under the house as we would catch a whiff every once-in-a-while when we were outside.
Well sure enough one day LC came in from bumping under the house and stank horribly. Her fur on her chest was green! I shoved her outside and call the vet. He said to pour tomato juice on her and let her lick it off. I had to drive to the store to get a big can of tomato juice. When I got home I easily sniffed out LC, who was pretty upset about not being able to get away from the smell herself. To add insult to injury, I poured the tomato juice all over her and she took off. I didn’t see her for three days! When she showed up again, she still smelled but not as bad and the tomato juice was all gone.
I gave her the hand test. I petted her chest and could smell the skunk on my hand. If the smell would come off on my hand it would come off on the furniture. So, much to LC’s chagrin, I made her stay out for another 2 to 3 weeks until my hand would come away with no smell. Her fur still smelled for several more weeks but at least it did not rub off on anything else. LC never did go back to play with the skunk kits under the house.
I had a friend, Becky, who was the complete opposite of me. She was the artist, very right brain; I was the analytical engineer, very left brain. She hated cats, I had four cats. The tie that we had in common was that we each had a child of about the same age. But even that was different. She had a girl and I had a boy (and they did not get along very well). But we were young mothers looking for adult conversation so we found each other.
Since this is animal Wednesday, this is an animal story. I know children can be animals sometimes but this is not about the children. This is about my friend’s cats.
You are right; I said she did not like cats. She thought they looked sneaky. I told her “you would be sneaky too if you had to be leery of dogs trying to kill you and big birds carrying you off.” This is about all her neighbor’s cats who thought of her back deck as a meeting ground or convention area or maybe the local spa.
Becky had mentioned to her sister that the cats congregated on her back deck and she really wished they would stay away. Her sister told her of a product to buy that would keep them away. This item was a frog garden statue. However this was a special statue, it had a motion sensor. When it sensed motion, the frog would croak!
Becky had to try it. She placed the frog on her back deck and waited. Before too long, one of the local cats showed up for its afternoon sunbathing on the deck. The frog croaked and the cat was startled, however it did not run off.
Becky and her sister failed to consider a major character trait of cats, curiosity. The cat sat for a while watching the frog but when the frog failed to move or react again, the cat moved to find a sunbeam. The frog croaked again. Now the cat knew something was up. It moved closer to the croaking frog. The cat then started calling, and another cat jumped over the fence, then another. Soon there were several cats sitting around this croaking frog. It was like they were daring each other. One finally got up the nerve and ran up and batted it with its paw. The frog just sat there croaking. Another batted the frog, then another. They all had their turn and, bored with the game, they ignored it and each found their sunny spot and laid down for the day.
To say the least, Becky was exasperated but I was amused.
Have you ever seen a cat with a cold? I did not even know that a cat could get a cold but the first year I had Barney, my large black and white cat, he had 3 colds! He sounded and looked like a toddler with a bad cold; sneezing, runny nose, sniffling, the whole bit. I wanted to hold a tissue to his nose and tell him to blow. What was worse was that he would get the cold first then my other cat Callie would catch it then I would get it! Don’t tell me that germs can’t pass between species.
A cat with a cold seemed so strange to me that I called the vet and asked if a cat could get a cold and he said yes. Luckily, Barney outgrew his propensity for colds, however I haven’t. But I have never noticed any of the cats catching my cold, strange.
Do dogs get colds? That question naturally leads to the next, do wild animals get colds?
Let me know if you have any information to add.
I use to have a large black and white cat who liked to use his paws like hands. He would use his paws to pull cat food out of the dish to eat. Sometimes he would eat it right from his paw like a hand. Barney would also dip his paw in the water dish and lick the water off. Once I had a tall glass with a little water in the bottom sitting on the coffee table. I watched to see what Barney was up to when he started looking at the glass. Soon he dipped his paw in to taste what was at the bottom. My other cat, Callie, was watching and as soon as Barney left she came over to try that trick herself.
Barney was so into using his paws for every thing that he naturally used them to pull the cat door open to go through, just like a human pulling a door open with their hand. The only trouble was that this particular style was a hard plastic, double layer system. It was meant for the cat to use their head to push their way through. The double layer consisted of a large rectangle with a cut out that would only swing one way. The cut out inside this large rectangle had a smaller rectangular flap fitting over it. A cat when going one direction would push against the flaps and the larger flap would catch on a stop and the inner flap would push open making a smaller hole for the cat to go through. Going the other direction the smaller flap would push against the larger rectangle and both would move up and out of the way making a larger opening for the cat to crawl through. The smaller flap could swing either direction but in one direction it pushed the larger rectangular flap with it.
Barney would use his paw to pull the flap open. This worked ok, sometimes. One day Barney pulled the smaller flap open and proceeded to go through, however this was the direction where the larger rectangle should be pushed out of the way with the smaller flap. As Barney went through the door the larger flap with its smaller opening caught around Barney’s large frame and the farther Barney went through the door the tighter the larger rectangle grabbed him. By the time I got over to the cat door, Barney was in panic mode.
Paul and I had to push him through backwards to unhook him. Barney then did not want anything to do with that door. But that was the way to go out to do his thing (we did not keep a litter box at the time). So Paul and I grabbed Barney and pushed him through making him use his head and not his paws. We had to push him through about ten times before we felt he was comfortable with the door again. At least he was smart enough to realize what was going on.
When we lived in the duplex in north Austin, we had a cat door insert for the sliding door. This allowed any and all stray cats in the area to come in and make themselves at home.
My husband and I had recently married, he had 4 cats and I had 2 (hey a guy who likes cats is something to hold on to). We bought the duplex and finally moved in together. All this shuffling around had confused the cats and they were not sure who was and who was not suppose to be with us anymore so our legitimate cats were very welcoming of strays.
One stray stayed on the outskirts of the back porch for quite a while, unsure of his welcome. He was very scruffy looking; the kind you really did not want to touch. He looked and acted like he had been kicked out of a lot of places. I thought he needed some food and kind treatment. He was a very ugly cat with a stub of a tail. I was never sure if it was natural or had been cut off. That tail is why we started calling him Bobbie. He also had a medical problem that I am sure kept anyone from taking him in. He had a tumor. His side bulged like a tennis ball was in there.
My husband and I decided he needed some kindness and some good food. We cajoled and bribed him until he finally let us close. The good food did help. His fur started getting smoother and shinier. He finally decided to make the plunge and he came in the cat door.
He liked it indoors. It was cool and safe; he did not have to worry about predators or the pit bull down the street.
Since he had moved in, I decided he needed his shots. At the vets, I asked about the tumor and he said that he could operate and remove it but it would come back. We decided to let nature take its course.
Bobbie stayed with us for about seven months and I could tell the tumor was taking a toll on him. His favorite place to sleep was in the bathtub with its cool sides. One day he disappeared. After being gone for several days I assumed he had gone off to die.
About four months after his disappearance, he showed up! He came in the cat door and in his weakened state managed to climb into the bathtub. Paul and I petted him and made over him and offered food and water but the timing was bad. We were just on our way out when Bobbie walked in. We had to leave; our bowling league was depending on us. So I left Bobbie in the bathtub. When we got back several hours later, Bobbie was no longer in the tub or the house.
We never did see Bobbie again. I think he came to see us one last time before he died. I like to think he was appreciative of our efforts to help a starving, sick stray.
Last Wednesday there was a story about a frog scaring a mom, today I have another scream for you. This is a story told to me by one of my college roommates (Forgive me for telling your story Holly). When she was a young teen her family moved to a large old house in need of renovations. They were constantly having construction workers and delivery men coming to the house. One morning the doorbell rang and Holly answered the door to find another delivery. The man was insistent that an adult sign for the materials so Holly left him in the front entry and went in search of her mom.
In the entryway was a shelf on which rested several ornaments one of which was a large white rabbit. There was another resident in the house, Holly’s solid black Persian cat, Rover (her brothers wanted a dog, but that is another story). This day Rover had decided to sit on the shelf with the white rabbit. I could just see how they would complement each other; a solid white rabbit and a solid black cat, both looking very ornamental.
Holly was having trouble locating her mom so the delivery person was patiently waiting next to the shelf. Right after Holly located her mom, they heard a blood curdling scream from the front entry and a loud exclamation “It’s alive!”. I can just imagine it now, Rover sitting on the shelf real still in her regalness then slowly turning her head to look at the delivery man. That particular delivery man never came back to the house
This article is provided by Ann’s husband, Paul.
My family lived in Ft. Sill Oklahoma during the years when I was in kindergarten into the middle of the third grade. We lived in post housing right next to the golf course and a really cool woodsy area with a fairly good sized creek. During that time, there was a toad that lived behind the house. I would catch him (or her?) every summer and keep him for a pet for awhile before letting him go again. I knew it was the same toad because the underside of his chin was blue. Or maybe it was purple, I dunno. I can’t tell the difference because I’m colorblind.
One summer I had put the toad in a tennis ball can, and left the can on the washing machine in the utility room off the kitchen, and forgotten about him. A little later, my mother was doing laundry, and noticed the tennis ball can. She picked it up and noticed there was something inside.
I can just imagine what was going through that toad’s mind when my mother took the lid off that can: “Free at last, Free at last, Free at last!” — and leapt out of the can. At the same time, here’s my mother taking the lid off the can to look inside and see what’s there. Out jumps the toad, probably right in her face — surprise! She screamed!
Now it so happens that the Postman was delivering mail to our house at that very moment. The mailbox for the house was a little chute through the brick that dropped into the kitchen, so as he’s opening the little flap door to insert the mail, out comes my mother’s terrified scream! I suppose a cartoonist would show his hair being blown back from the sound of the scream coming out of the mail chute. He came running into the house to see what was the matter, only to find my mother holding the tennis ball can and a toad hopping around, and probably mad as a wet hen.
I guess it’s no wonder I wasn’t my mother’s favorite child.
I went to the grocery store early one morning. I pulled into my driveway as usual and started taking my load into the house. It was while walking down the sidewalk between the driveway and the front door when I spied it. Right in the middle of the walkway was a toad, but one thing was wrong, its head was missing!
We had several cats and I assumed that one decided to see what toad tasted like. Hey I have had frog legs before (taste like rubbery chicken) so I thought the cat was going to try some but got the wrong end. I have heard that toads will let off a terrible tasting secretion from their mouth when attacked. The cat must have got hold of that and left the rest of the toad alone but not before decapitating it.
I decided to toss the remains into the bar ditch to get it away from the house and off the sidewalk. As I reached down and touched the toad, IT MOVED! I jumped back and ran into the house. All day long I would take peaks out the window and every once in a while I would see it in a different position! I have since heard that frogs don’t need much of a brain.
It was freaking me out. I did not go outside all day.
When my husband came home, I asked him if he had seen the toad. He said he had and he had tossed it into the ditch. I told him my story and said to him “didn’t it move on you?” My husband replied “Well, no. It was pretty dried out.”
I have never been able to look at a toad or a frog the same way since.
I have another raccoon story this week. The year we lived in north Austin, we had a cat door installed. We also had a huge cat feeder outside. This feeder would hold a 7 pound bag of feed easily as it was made of a eight inch PVC pipe about four foot long. The bottom end had 2 round holes cut in the side for the cats to slick their head to eat and it had a funnel mounted inside the pipe to funnel the food to the center. There was a floor on the inside to act as a dish. The feeder would only let food out when the food was low in the dish part. Between the free food and the cat door, we did end up collecting stray cats.
However what we did not expect to collect were raccoons.
Several mornings we woke to find the feeder on its side and totally empty. We would stand it up and fill it with another 7 pound bag of food and the next morning find it tipped over totally empty. We started watching to see what was eating all the food. We soon saw raccoons coming up to the feeder. What we thought was weird were that the cats lounging around outside were totally ignoring the raccoons. We would open the door and start barking and the raccoons would take off over the six foot privacy fence. It was only when the raccoons were on the move that the cats would suddenly notice that they were there.
Maybe they just did not want to notice them because if they did they would have to confront them and they did not want a fight, anyway the humans would refill the food dish.
Well, we humans did not have the money to feed all the wildlife in the area so we decided to move the feeder inside. The second night the feeder was inside, I had one of the cats (Callie) in the bedroom, petting on her when her nose when up and she started sniffing alertly. I told my husband something was in the living room. We stepped out and sure enough there were 3 raccoons headed for the cat food. We barked and chased them out. The two other cats lounging around the living room acted like they didn’t know the raccoons were there.
We thought we were through with the raccoons for the night. We went back to the bedroom with Callie and started petting her again. It wasn’t too long before her nose went up again. I told my husband they were back.
We ran back to the living room and chased the raccoons around a bit. They were not very timid creatures, but they finally headed back out the cat door. As the last raccoon was squeezing out, Callie ran up to it and batted it out the door. After that we had to lock the cat door closed at night and bring out a litter box. Luckily we did not stay in that house much longer; we moved and left the raccoons to fend for themselves.
Last week I had a hawk story, this week it is raccoons, those little bandits.
My first up-close and personal experience with a raccoon was when I was living in an apartment in San Antonio. I came home one evening; the sun was low in the sky but had not set yet. I found my neighbor, Mark, in front of the apartment building, on all fours messing around in the leaves under the trees. I stopped to ask what he was doing. He said “I’m teaching this raccoon to hunt for acorns and roots.” Then I saw the young raccoon close to him.
Apparently a few months before he had been on his way back home from College Station and saw a raccoon on the side of the road that had been killed by a car. There were five little raccoons around her body. He stopped and picked up the babies and brought them home. (I am sure the apartment owners did not know about this). He took care of them and raised them, teaching them to hunt and when they started getting mean he knew it was time to set them free. He took them out into the country and let them go. They all scurried off but one came back. The one he had outside that evening had not been ready to leave, so he was working with this one a little longer.
Mark said it was interesting living with raccoons as nothing was safe. They could get out of cages as they had little hands and if they had enough weight behind them they could get the refrigerator door open. This raccoon was soon ready for the wild and I never saw the raccoon again.