Wednesday, March 11, 2009
"Some people have cats and go on to lead normal lives."
Still being relatively childless, I do frequently find myself photographing the antics of my cats. We have two of them. Bernini, the first born, has grown into quite a large, voluminous cat of massive proportion (The Mister calls it '"fat". I call it "extra".). He's sweet, simple and functions entirely on instinct. Hershey is our petite, conniving and cunning cat. She thinks things through. She processes. I dare say, she reasons it out. I'm very thankful she is without the capability of speech because she would best me at debate.
Bernini, sweet and simple, I think, frequently forgets that Hershey exists. When he discovers her, which it seems like several times a day he has to introduce himself for the first time to her, his instinct tells him to Alpha-Cat himself on her. She really loves this, let me tell you. And it's a good thing she's about 1/3 of his size because she darts a lot more efficiently than he can chase. Sometimes, though, size counts. And often we'll hear her cries and find Bernini firmly entrenched on Hershey, who is helpless to escape. (At this point you're like, "Holy crap. Have the baby already and stop writing deep and thoughtful explanations of your cats in your blog.")
I give you: The Anatomy of a Cat Fight
First, there's some pushing.
And then there's some shoving.
Then Bernini asserts his Alpha-Catness and sits on Hershey.
Then Hershey finally dons the look of submission.
Then Bernini leaves.
...And a little something for dog lovers:
A woman at work was telling me that she has a beautiful, 12 year old pure-bred Labrador. That she hates. She bought the dog as a puppy years ago from a breeder and has since had nothing but years of dog pee, disseminated, chewed kitchen trash, barking, jumping, humping, etc. She lives on several acres and over the years has seen the dog take off out the back door into the wilds of her acreage, unable and unwilling to be caught. A few hours, sometimes days later he returns covered in who-knows-what, but lovingly covers her furniture with it.
A few weeks ago the dog took off, as usual. Only this time he hasn't come back. And she's not all that terrifically upset about it. No one in her family is. Maybe he's happily eating someone else's trash. And that someone else is really happy about it. Last week as she shopped at her grocery store, she saw the sign from her local SPCA with a giant picture of HER dog on it.
"The poster has his picture on it, and under the picture it says 'Labrador-mix'," she told me.
"Well, I mean, that's great, right? Are you going to go get him?" I asked.
"Hell no I'm not going to get him. But I am thinking I might call them anonymously."
"What, to tell them that he's yours but that you can't keep him and he has behavioral issues not conducive to your home life?"
"No. To tell them that I paid $700 to a breeder for him 12 years ago -- he's not a MIX. He's pure-bred. He's got papers!" she said.
"So, you want to correct their advertising."
"Yes. I was insulted that they called him a 'mix'. So, do you think the SPCA has caller ID?"
Bernini, sweet and simple, I think, frequently forgets that Hershey exists. When he discovers her, which it seems like several times a day he has to introduce himself for the first time to her, his instinct tells him to Alpha-Cat himself on her. She really loves this, let me tell you. And it's a good thing she's about 1/3 of his size because she darts a lot more efficiently than he can chase. Sometimes, though, size counts. And often we'll hear her cries and find Bernini firmly entrenched on Hershey, who is helpless to escape. (At this point you're like, "Holy crap. Have the baby already and stop writing deep and thoughtful explanations of your cats in your blog.")
I give you: The Anatomy of a Cat Fight
First, there's some pushing.
And then there's some shoving.
Then Bernini asserts his Alpha-Catness and sits on Hershey.
Then Hershey finally dons the look of submission.
Then Bernini leaves....And a little something for dog lovers:
A woman at work was telling me that she has a beautiful, 12 year old pure-bred Labrador. That she hates. She bought the dog as a puppy years ago from a breeder and has since had nothing but years of dog pee, disseminated, chewed kitchen trash, barking, jumping, humping, etc. She lives on several acres and over the years has seen the dog take off out the back door into the wilds of her acreage, unable and unwilling to be caught. A few hours, sometimes days later he returns covered in who-knows-what, but lovingly covers her furniture with it.
A few weeks ago the dog took off, as usual. Only this time he hasn't come back. And she's not all that terrifically upset about it. No one in her family is. Maybe he's happily eating someone else's trash. And that someone else is really happy about it. Last week as she shopped at her grocery store, she saw the sign from her local SPCA with a giant picture of HER dog on it.
"The poster has his picture on it, and under the picture it says 'Labrador-mix'," she told me.
"Well, I mean, that's great, right? Are you going to go get him?" I asked.
"Hell no I'm not going to get him. But I am thinking I might call them anonymously."
"What, to tell them that he's yours but that you can't keep him and he has behavioral issues not conducive to your home life?"
"No. To tell them that I paid $700 to a breeder for him 12 years ago -- he's not a MIX. He's pure-bred. He's got papers!" she said.
"So, you want to correct their advertising."
"Yes. I was insulted that they called him a 'mix'. So, do you think the SPCA has caller ID?"
# posted by Cathy @ 5:50:00 PM 
