Should I keep a tight rein on this horse, or does it not need that? Some horses need the bit in their mouth, and maybe a tight rein at times, but others don't. I knew a cowboy once that rode his horse with just a pigging string around its neck, and did just fine with that. These days, I keep lots of animals, too many to keep a tight rein on most of them. We're talking cats and dogs here, and like people, each of them is different. I have cats that are dependent, won't allow much control and must be left to fend for themselves outside. That's the way they want it, and so I allow it. And then there's the come and go cat, the one who wants inside for a while, and then wants to run free for a while. Petie, one of my calico cats, is like that. She's antisocial with other cats, fights with them, and they all know she's easy to get riled up. Petie accepts the house only when she's in my wife's bedroom/bath area. Only three cats are allowed back there, and Petie is one of them . . . when she's inside. I just went into the yard to get Petie out of a tree. One of the outside cats was picking on her, so I shooed him away and she came to me. And there Sparkle, a mottled black cat that's just not people friendly. She lets me know when she need something, has made friends with the outside cats and hangs out with them. They all stay close to the house, have comfortable places out there to sleep at night.
But . . . dogs are the crabgrass on the lawn of life for animal lovers. Dogs are dumber than cats, and are more dependent. I tolerate them because they're usually more lovable. Nothing can love you like a dog, and that's a fact. I've also got lots of dogs, and they're a lot of trouble. One dog can screw up more than ten cats, create most of the problems around here . . . and I've still got 'em, so what does that say about my intelligence? I've got a cow dog, a cocker spaniel, and a shitload of ornery little terriers. They should call 'em terrorists. The military should use them as attack dogs, if they ever start a war with midgets. I figure that's coming sooner or later, big headlines, U.S. DECLARES WAR ON PYGMIES."
The world of animals is pretty much like the world of people, perhaps at a slightly higher level of intelligence. With an animal, we can blame rude behavior on instincts, that survival of the fittest, natural selection thing. With people, it's usually a product of aforethought. I think animals are learning from us, though, and that's not always good. There's a conspiracy going on around here about feeding time. So, the dog goes to the cat and says, "If you'll knock that bowl off the counter, the old fart will come and clean up the mess and feed us." And the cat says to the dog, "Ok, I'll do it, but you need to go bark and stand by the door so I can run outside when the old fart opens it."
I've never claimed to own an animal, but now I'm wondering if they don't own me.
Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Monday, October 27, 2014
DO ANIMALS TALK TO US?
Can animals talk? Do they have a language of their own? Oh, you bet they do, and it's mostly all Greek to us. I understand only one language - English. That puts me at a communication handicap at times, but fortunately for me, I live where most people speak the same language. Half the people who live where I do speak Spanish, or a form of it we call Tex-Mex down here in Texas, but they also speak English. I've studied French and Spanish, don't speak them well but can read a little of it. Some folks might argue that I don't even speak English well, but I seem to be able to get my point across when I speak or write it. And I communicate with animals on a regular basis, and that's 'cause I understand dog and cat language. I learned to do that by simply paying attention to their mannerisms, their barks and meows and other sounds. The tell me when they want food, or when they want in or out, or when they want affection. If you observe and listen, you learn their language . . . and animals are a lot smarter than most people give them credit for being.
Most people have an anthropocentric relationships with animals, and that comes from the erroneous assumption that we are superior to them. Have you ever seen a human being as graceful as a cat? Can you jump six feet off the ground, or navigate along the top of a wood fence only a half inch wide? No, and you can't move at an unbelievable speed either, and you can't climb a tree like a squirrel either. Compared to a cat, you are slow and clumsy and plodding . . . and perhaps stupid. We can't take on any of the physical attributes of a cat, but they can sure take on some of ours. Anyone who takes time to work with them knows how much they are capable of learning. I've got an Australian cow dog with a working vocabulary of several hundred words, and that's because she pays attention to what I say. So do my cats, and I talk to them a lot . . . and they talk back.
Animals don't need to wear a wristwatch to know what time it is, and they don't need to watch the weather reports to know what's ahead. My cow dog knows in advance when rain is coming. She hates it because the thunder and lightening scare her, and I can tell from her movements when something is in the air. My cats tend to huddle up when bad weather is coming. They tell me when it's time to eat and sleep, their two favorite things. I've got one cat that sits and stares at me when he comes inside for the night, makes repeated trips to the bedroom, looks up at the bed and then at me, saying, "Hey, I'm sleepy. Let's hit the sack." And he won't go bed without me, likes to sleep curled up behind my knees or around my feet. Another cat crawls up in my lap and gives me a little nip to remind me it's time for his rubs, his attention for the day. They all have a way of telling me what they want, and like children, they act up sometimes. If Gracie, a calico cat, doesn't get what she wants, she pees on something that belongs to me.
Animals can be selfish, moody, angry, sad, disappointed, happy, or playful, just like people can, and they show that through behavior. Animals grieve when one of their own kind dies, or is sick. My little cocker spaniel dogs knows when you feel bad and tries to comfort you. The cats have ways of telling me when something isn't right, when they feel bad . . . and you only know these things when you pay attention, listen or observe their language. And like with people, some dogs and cats have certain personality traits and mannerisms. In fact, each one of them is different from the others in some way, and what works for one of them might not work for the others. You can't treat all of them the same way.
Some of my cats, for instance, are totally dependent, while others are free spirits that want to be allowed a lot of freedom to move about and do things their way. Not all of them are friends, and some conflicts develop between cats that don't like each other. Sometimes that changes when they reach an accommodation. Sometimes they never do that and you have to keep them separated. And sometimes, you'll notice some real love affairs between two animals. Some of our cats are more attached to the dogs than they are to the other cats, want to be around them all the time. Do they share a language of some kind? I think so.
Most people have an anthropocentric relationships with animals, and that comes from the erroneous assumption that we are superior to them. Have you ever seen a human being as graceful as a cat? Can you jump six feet off the ground, or navigate along the top of a wood fence only a half inch wide? No, and you can't move at an unbelievable speed either, and you can't climb a tree like a squirrel either. Compared to a cat, you are slow and clumsy and plodding . . . and perhaps stupid. We can't take on any of the physical attributes of a cat, but they can sure take on some of ours. Anyone who takes time to work with them knows how much they are capable of learning. I've got an Australian cow dog with a working vocabulary of several hundred words, and that's because she pays attention to what I say. So do my cats, and I talk to them a lot . . . and they talk back.
Animals don't need to wear a wristwatch to know what time it is, and they don't need to watch the weather reports to know what's ahead. My cow dog knows in advance when rain is coming. She hates it because the thunder and lightening scare her, and I can tell from her movements when something is in the air. My cats tend to huddle up when bad weather is coming. They tell me when it's time to eat and sleep, their two favorite things. I've got one cat that sits and stares at me when he comes inside for the night, makes repeated trips to the bedroom, looks up at the bed and then at me, saying, "Hey, I'm sleepy. Let's hit the sack." And he won't go bed without me, likes to sleep curled up behind my knees or around my feet. Another cat crawls up in my lap and gives me a little nip to remind me it's time for his rubs, his attention for the day. They all have a way of telling me what they want, and like children, they act up sometimes. If Gracie, a calico cat, doesn't get what she wants, she pees on something that belongs to me.
Animals can be selfish, moody, angry, sad, disappointed, happy, or playful, just like people can, and they show that through behavior. Animals grieve when one of their own kind dies, or is sick. My little cocker spaniel dogs knows when you feel bad and tries to comfort you. The cats have ways of telling me when something isn't right, when they feel bad . . . and you only know these things when you pay attention, listen or observe their language. And like with people, some dogs and cats have certain personality traits and mannerisms. In fact, each one of them is different from the others in some way, and what works for one of them might not work for the others. You can't treat all of them the same way.
Some of my cats, for instance, are totally dependent, while others are free spirits that want to be allowed a lot of freedom to move about and do things their way. Not all of them are friends, and some conflicts develop between cats that don't like each other. Sometimes that changes when they reach an accommodation. Sometimes they never do that and you have to keep them separated. And sometimes, you'll notice some real love affairs between two animals. Some of our cats are more attached to the dogs than they are to the other cats, want to be around them all the time. Do they share a language of some kind? I think so.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
CAT CHRONICLES: KEEPING UP WITH THE CREW
CLOWDER, that's the word for a group of cats. I've got two clowders of cats - the bridge street cats (at my shop across town), the Parkview clowder, and I even devoted a website to them at Weebly called Clowder Country. I don't keep it up very well, but it's there in case I decide to chronicle what's going on with the cats I take care of. This cat thing isn't by design, isn't something I planned on or prepared for, and I've almost come to believe that providence led to it. Then again, perhaps it's just an extension of what I've always done, which is take care of things. I've been a caretaker for a long time, just in a much different way. I was for a long time a college professor, took care of lots of things related to the teaching profession, and I came to think of myself as just that - a keeper. I kept up with students and all the paperwork and management that goes along with that, and I was also a coach, which required more of me. And I liked it and did a fairly good job of it. That's all in the past now. I'm old, retired, and . . . lonesome for something to take care of, I guess. God must've known I needed something to look after, and so he sent animals.
I came to Texas with one old cat, a female I'd had a while named K.C. She lived to be 16, finally died in 2004. I wasn't a good caretaker then, barely paid attention to her, just put out food and gave her a place to live. My life changed dramatically in early 2005 when I nearly died of a heart attack. I had bought a little house across town, was restoring it and turning it into a guitar shop, and that's when I went down for a while. My recovery was a slow one, and I had lots of time on my hands doing little or nothing. So, I got a dog, and then another dog, and then a few cats showed up. My shop produced the first of them, mostly abandoned kittens that I saved. A few of them were given away, and a few of them came home with me to my home on Parkview to live. More showed up, and several of them had kittens, and we gave more away, and kept some. My home is across the creek from the city's largest park, a place where folks abandon animals from time to time. Starving cats started coming to my front porch looking for food, and I fed them. I now feed six or eight cats there each day - cats that are mostly wild but need to eat. At the shop across town, I feed another half dozen outside cats each day, and those cats over the years have given me more kittens. I've got nine other cats living inside the shop now . . . full time house cats, pets, spoiled rotten and content to be where they are.
Over the years I've shucked out money to have neutered and spayed almost all of the cats that have come to be part of my cat crew, and they've all been to the vet for various things - shots, sicknesses, etc. In all, I've got about 35 cats to look after these days, and my feed bill is about $500 a month. And taking care of the cats takes several hours of my day - feeding, cleaning litter boxes, checking them out, doctoring them, etc. And there's the dogs, too. I have only two dogs here at home, but a small chihuahua/terrier cross female attached herself to me some time back, and she recently had five puppies. Now I've got five little pups to feed and provide a home for, and that's more work . . . and more worry.
Nothing gives me more enjoyment than caring for animals, but there's also some heartache in it. I lose them from time to time, and that always sets me back. My favorite shop cat was killed last fall, and I'm still grieving over that. Some of my kittens have died, and that always hurts. I don't mind spending the money on vet bills, do what I can to save them, but I'm stretched thin because I'm getting old and less able to care for them. Friends are starting to suggest that I should euthanize some of them, do the humane thing, they say. My response is, "Yeah, I'll euthanize my cats just before I euthanize myself."
I don't kill anything unless it's absolutely necessary, so I keep plugging along, doing what I can to care for the animals . . . and that's keeps me from feeling absolutely worthless.
I'm a writer . . . a disenchanted, disappointed, disheartened writer for the most part who's sick of it. I spend about half the year working hard at writing, but it gets to me and I have to lay off for a while. Maybe I should write about what I enjoy the most - animals. Maybe I should just forget about the writing and be a caretaker, a keeper of critters. I like that idea best, but I haven't been able to make myself do it yet. Something always draws me back to writing. I'll finish more books before long, as soon as I can pull my head out of my ass and take care of the final stages. I'm not as good a caretaker of my own affairs as I am of animals, it seems. And I don't really care.
I came to Texas with one old cat, a female I'd had a while named K.C. She lived to be 16, finally died in 2004. I wasn't a good caretaker then, barely paid attention to her, just put out food and gave her a place to live. My life changed dramatically in early 2005 when I nearly died of a heart attack. I had bought a little house across town, was restoring it and turning it into a guitar shop, and that's when I went down for a while. My recovery was a slow one, and I had lots of time on my hands doing little or nothing. So, I got a dog, and then another dog, and then a few cats showed up. My shop produced the first of them, mostly abandoned kittens that I saved. A few of them were given away, and a few of them came home with me to my home on Parkview to live. More showed up, and several of them had kittens, and we gave more away, and kept some. My home is across the creek from the city's largest park, a place where folks abandon animals from time to time. Starving cats started coming to my front porch looking for food, and I fed them. I now feed six or eight cats there each day - cats that are mostly wild but need to eat. At the shop across town, I feed another half dozen outside cats each day, and those cats over the years have given me more kittens. I've got nine other cats living inside the shop now . . . full time house cats, pets, spoiled rotten and content to be where they are.
Over the years I've shucked out money to have neutered and spayed almost all of the cats that have come to be part of my cat crew, and they've all been to the vet for various things - shots, sicknesses, etc. In all, I've got about 35 cats to look after these days, and my feed bill is about $500 a month. And taking care of the cats takes several hours of my day - feeding, cleaning litter boxes, checking them out, doctoring them, etc. And there's the dogs, too. I have only two dogs here at home, but a small chihuahua/terrier cross female attached herself to me some time back, and she recently had five puppies. Now I've got five little pups to feed and provide a home for, and that's more work . . . and more worry.
Nothing gives me more enjoyment than caring for animals, but there's also some heartache in it. I lose them from time to time, and that always sets me back. My favorite shop cat was killed last fall, and I'm still grieving over that. Some of my kittens have died, and that always hurts. I don't mind spending the money on vet bills, do what I can to save them, but I'm stretched thin because I'm getting old and less able to care for them. Friends are starting to suggest that I should euthanize some of them, do the humane thing, they say. My response is, "Yeah, I'll euthanize my cats just before I euthanize myself."
I don't kill anything unless it's absolutely necessary, so I keep plugging along, doing what I can to care for the animals . . . and that's keeps me from feeling absolutely worthless.
I'm a writer . . . a disenchanted, disappointed, disheartened writer for the most part who's sick of it. I spend about half the year working hard at writing, but it gets to me and I have to lay off for a while. Maybe I should write about what I enjoy the most - animals. Maybe I should just forget about the writing and be a caretaker, a keeper of critters. I like that idea best, but I haven't been able to make myself do it yet. Something always draws me back to writing. I'll finish more books before long, as soon as I can pull my head out of my ass and take care of the final stages. I'm not as good a caretaker of my own affairs as I am of animals, it seems. And I don't really care.
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