Thinking of Hootch - Cats Paws

Love this little pink paw. First time I saw one was on a kitten which had fallen  out a window of a second floor apartment on East 19th between Ave O and P in Brooklyn. I figured the owner was too stupid to own it and put him in my coat pocket and took him home. Named him Hootch.

If you were ever a steady "visitor" at 2132 Ocean Avenue you probably remember him coming and going. He led a lifestyle best described as ephemeral, like the stages of the moon.

Hootch lived for about 4 years, getting into scrapes but always making it back from the edges. Literally had 9 lives! He even got a job as a "mouser" at the butcher on Avenue O an East 15th street when I left to join the Navy. This was about 45 years ago, and the photo of the pink paw reminded me of him.....

Here is the little guy with his mom. Got the photos from a post by a woman named Peggy Sue on the Simon's Cat (fun) site, which can be found on Facebook. You can also contact the Underdog Pet Rescue Mission of Wisconsin at 608-224-0018

 

A Midnight Tail (2014)

I live in a development. We have a home Owner’s Association. Along with all of the usual rules there is one that makes no sense to me at all. It is the rule which forbids screens in the front windows of the houses, as well as barring any screen doors.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I like a bit of fresh air on those rare North Carolina days when the sky is blue and cloudless. More so on the days when there is a nice breeze going. These are the days I like to “air out” the house, placing fans in open windows and letting the breeze course through.

The other day was one of those beautiful days I have just described. I opened every window I could and even one of the front ones without a screen.  Our resident stray, Midnight, was quick to exploit the opening; coming in through the window next to the chair he likes to occupy on our front porch.

I was a bit surprised, as he is not a “house cat” by any means. Also I have severe allergies, so I was a little worried about the effect on me from having him inside. But with such a nice breeze going I thought I’d take a chance and let him stay for a while. He immediately began exploring the premises.

It was about 10 minutes later when I noticed Midnight’s friend “Ghost” had elected to come in through that same window, looking for him. She was shortly joined by her “significant other”; at least when she is not “catting” around with Midnight; “Lucky”, who lives down the street.

Well, before too long I had about 4 cats roaming all over the place, happily purring as I watched them explore every nook and cranny of the house. It was a nice sight, but I had decided; only Midnight would be staying. The others would have to go. After all, they have homes; unlike Midnight; who lives on my porch or in the garage, depending upon the weather.

To this end, Midnight was already marking territory in the living room near the fireplace. I guess even on such a nice, balmy day he was thinking of where he would be spending his winter. I hustled the other cats outside and closed the windows after them. Now it was just me and Midnight. I was ecstatic.

But I was suddenly seized with panic as I realized that he simply could not stay due to my allergies.  Already my asthma was kicking in big time. Accordingly, I went to pick him up and place him outside. This was getting to be like a bad dream; he had to go! And when I awoke, I was already reaching for my inhaler…

"The Complete Cartoons of the New Yorker" - Edited by Robert Mankoff (2004)

The cartoons from the New Yorker magazine were pretty intriguing to me as a kid. They covered some political subjects with which I was unfamiliar, but also delved into the world of social interaction on an everyday personal level.

For instance, in the cartoon posted below; which is actually the original I clipped and saved decades ago; a grownup faces his own social anxiety when confronted with a situation where he will have to mix with others who are just like him. This was humor I could identify with. We’ve all been 12 years old at some time; when stepping into a room felt as if all eyes were upon you in judgement. Obviously, it struck a chord with me. I identified with the sentiment enough to save the cartoon for all these years.

Anyway, this is just one of the cartoons in this fantastic collection from New Yorker Magazine. I got it as a gift several years ago, and am still enjoying it today. With two CD’s containing every cartoon; as well as the book which has some of the best cartoons arranged by year and subject; this is the complete collection from 1925- 2004; which is over 68,000 very witty cartoons by some of the greatest political cartoonists of the 20^th century.

If you have a favorite New Yorker cartoon in your memory; it’s here in this collection. Here’s one more of my favorites; a bit more modern in theme;

Sam and Me- Looking for Clues

This is the only close up photograph I have of Sam. He was my frog from July of 1966 until his untimely death due to a fungus sometime late in the summer of 1967. Sometimes I think he just didn't take to life in the city.

I have some other photos of me holding him in a coffee jar right after his capture. I look so happy with my new acquisition, with no thought of the poor frog, who must have been very upset with the jar and the smell. I can still remember that it was a Maxwell House jar.

I used to get water for him from Prospect Park on the weekends and fed him live meal worms which he seemed to be very fond of. He also liked raw chop meat, to which I would add his liquid vitamins. And when he eventually got sick I took him to the Animal Medical Center in Manhattan.

It still makes me laugh to think about filling out the form for the intake process. I was alone, having taken the subway with Sam. They asked questions that simply did not apply to my particular pet, but the one Sam and I had the most fun with was when they asked for his color and I wrote "green." Man, we had our fun, Sam and I.

After a bit of initial confusion we were ushered into a Veterinarian's office overlooking the East River below the 59th Street "Feeling Groovy" Bridge. The vet came in and took a look at the two of us and wondered, almost aloud, if this was some kind of joke being played on him by his fellow vets. I assured him that we were in earnest, Sam having been sick for several weeks at this point. I had tried every homeopathic remedy known to reptiles and humans alike, all to no avail.

The vet gave him an injection which he claimed would either help him or not. I paid the $8 and left. Sam never made it home alive. The next day I rode my bicycle to the Old Mill on Avenue U in Brooklyn, and set him adrift in a fur lined cigar box hoping that the tide would carry him away. Kind of like a Viking funeral without the flames.

There's no moral here; no trauma involved. It’s just me going through my photos and memories; still looking for clues to who I was and where I've been. I’ll keep you posted.

The Saturday After Midnight

You could never tell where the kitten

would be sittin’.

He had so many places he liked to hide.

In the summer it was the porch

lying in the shade.

In the winter he found shelter inside.

In the garage there was a heating pad and chair.

And on summer stormy nights

there was a Christmas tree in there,

and he took special comfort from the lights.

We ran them anytime,

when the wind began to whine

or thunder cracked.

And it worked in winter, too,

making him feel that he was warmer than he was.

He loved that tree.

And the shadow from the lights grew longer

as the kittens time grew shorter;

‘til there was an empty place on my porch.

In my garage, the Christmas tree is gone;

the lights only lit the empty spaces in the night.

For Midnight - He was a great cat.

2011-2014 

Second Version

You could never tell
where the kitten would be sittin’.
He had so many places he liked to hide.

In the summer it was the porch
lying in the shade.
In the winter he found shelter on the inside.

In the garage there was a heating pad
and where on certain summer stormy nights,
with the tree ablaze, he would sit and stare,
taking special comfort from the lights.

We ran them anytime, when the wind began to whine
or thunder cracked, and the wind would moan.
And it worked in winter, too, made him feel warmer than he was.
He loved that tree and didn't feel so alone.

But the shadows from the lights grew longer
as the kittens time grew shorter;
‘til there was an empty place on my porch and in my heart.

In my garage, the Christmas tree is gone;
now that his time is done,
they only lit the empty spaces in the night.

Midnight - Hand to Mouth

Midnight has always wanted an opposable thumb. He has been watching me carefully for the past 3 years and has noticed the miracles that I can perform with that remarkable appendage. And he wants one; badly. This sequence of him eating lunch on the patio yesterday illustrates my point.

Here he has just gotten his midday bowl of tuna and is reaching in for one of the first delicious paw-fulls. Notice the intense concentration as he attempts to successfully fish one out. The scraps of tuna lying about in the foreground are testament to the inexact results of his efforts.

Having successfully gotten some tuna in his paw, he is now going to maneuver the food to his mouth. You can just see the tip of his tongue, which will be an important part of this process.

Curling is not just a sport to Midnight. It is the critical, final movement necessary to getting the food into his mouth. Again, notice the assist from his tongue.

And here he is, at the finish line so to speak. I call this his “Politician’s Pose.” He has his foot in his mouth. Wait; that's not quite fair to the cat!

Midnight - The Fight Goes On

They say that cats have nine lives and I’m beginning to worry about Midnight. He’s on about number 5 right now, as far as I can tell. Two flights with the hawks and now 3 with the big Tabby up the street.

On behalf of said Tabby, Midnight has been where he shouldn't be in relation to visiting “Ghost”, the local feline slut who sashay’s throughout the neighborhood, exciting all the boy cats. They should know better, but at the same time, she knows just what she’s doing.

I've tried talking to Midnight about this constant fighting, but he just looks at me with those eyes. And then I give him tuna. The fights make him a bit skittish immediately afterwards, but by the next can of tuna he’s ready to go again!

Sometimes I have to put some crushed Penicillin in his food to make sure his wounds don’t get infected. About 100 mg’s usually does the trick. I crush the tablet in a spoon.

I really love this guy, but I wish he would stop fighting. Perhaps I would find it less of a problem if he were winning; but that doesn't seem to be the case. So I’ll just stock up on tuna and Penicillin, hoping for the best.

Non Aggressive Cats - An Absurd Notion

Last week I read something so absurd that I am afraid to pass it on lest I incur the wrath of those who love cats; the animals, not the show. The article in question here was located in my local newspaper on the science page, if that tells you anything.

Basically speaking the article came to the conclusion that cats see human beings as “non-aggressive cats” and show that affection by rubbing against you to clean themselves; as they might with another cat; or the posture of their tails. Rubbish.

There is no way my cat considers me to be anything other than an upright, knuckle dragging, mouth breathing, possessor of opposable thumbs who lives in a heated home and drives a car far, far away to unknown locations, in order to get cans of tuna fish, which I then proceed to open with those incredible thumbs of mine to feed him with.

Anything else is mere conjecture, or simply rubbish. In addition, Midnight feels that it may be actionable.

Midnight the Hood Ornament

Few things in life give me as much pleasure as Midnight; our resident stray. It doesn't take too much to make him happy. Just some food and a bit of brushing. Oh, and sitting on the hood of the car when the engine is still warm. He likes that.

And, when not being a hood ornament, he likes to lay in the sun and stretch out for a spell. It doesn't matter how I feel about it anyway; he just rolls over and goes back to sleep.

"Neptune Nonsense" - Felix the Cat (1936)

We all tend to think of Felix the Cat in terms of the 1950’s cartoons we saw on television. But Felix had a long life before that incarnation. He actually dates back to the days of silent films. He is also the first cartoon character to ever have a fan base of his own, preceding even Mickey Mouse in that regard.

Felix’s real background is somewhat obscured, with ownership being claimed by  an Australian cartoonist named Pat Sullivan. He claims to be the original creator of Felix. An American animator named Otto Messmer, who worked for Mr. Sullivan, has also been created with Felix’s birth. But, since Sullivan did have the Felix character in a newspaper comic strip prior to the partnership with Messmer, so I suppose he is the original, although even in that endeavor he had a partner named Joe Oliolo.

Felix was so popular during the 1920’s that he spawned a whole line of products, ceramics, postcards and even stuffed toys. He was also the subject of several jazz songs of the time, the most notable being Paul Whiteman's "Felix Kept on Walking".

When sound arrived in the theater, Sullivan was at first against giving his character a voice, but within a year had caved into the change. For whatever reason, the cartoon failed against the newer characters coming from Disney and others. There was a short time in the 1930’s when Felix enjoyed a short resurgence, and this cartoon is from that period with the Van Beuren Studios.

The Felix cartoons on American TV in the 1950’s, with which most of us are familiar, were the product of Sullivan’s old partner Joe Oriolo. He reintroduced Felix in an altered form with new characters, and a "Magic Bag of Tricks".  And of course there was that theme song…

In this 1936 offering, Felix decides that his fish is lonely and goes in search of a companion for it. A delightfully silly plot and great animation make this one a keeper, as well as a doorway into Felix’s past.

Midnight and the Grasshopper

Midnight has been hanging around our house for a bit over 2 years now. He has weathered the heat of 2 summers, along with the biting cold of 2 winters. Honestly, I don’t know how he does it. Basically, he’s homeless and relies upon Sue and I to provide him with the dry food and tuna fish on which he subsists. He has no instinct when it comes to killing something to eat, so I am locked into this relationship with him. After all, it was I who fed him in the first place. What’s that saying about “if you save someone’s life you are responsible for it?” Well, I’m living it.

Midnight makes friends very easily. He has no one except for me and Sue to play with; meaning that he’s pretty much on his own. So, he has some unusual friends for a cat. There’s this grasshopper for starters; which he enjoys swatting with his paw. Notice how his claws; which are not trimmed; are curled in so he can play with his friend without inflicting any damage. No matter though, the grasshopper is free to hop away at any time, leaving Midnight to search for it in the bushes. He also plays with the little green frogs in this same manner.

Then there’s the matter of the birds; with whom he has become overly friendly; allowing them to eat from his dry food bowl, and even take some home with them; while he sits, or lays, only inches away watching them come and go like planes at JFK. He knows more food is coming, and besides, he doesn't pay for it. But even if he did he would probably still share his food with his feathered friends. I think he’s hoping that they will someday teach him how to fly.

Here he is, looking for a cricket in the thicket...

Me and My Shadow

This is me and my shadow, Midnight, my local stray cat who adopted me almost 2 years ago, out on a walk. We've been doing that lately, taking short walks together in the evening. It’s a bit complicated for him, as the other people who live in the neighborhood are usually all walking their dogs at that hour. Midnight is not on a leash, so he is free to scram if he feels in any danger.

Funny part of it all is that I when I stop to talk to neighbors who are walking their dogs, Midnight is right there at my feet; looking warily at the dog; but trusting me to protect him. Good thing he doesn’t have a leash and can run fast. I’m about 130 pounds; on a good day; so most of the dogs around here outweigh me!

Walking the cat is a new experience for me, and I gather for others as well. Midnight is more like a dog than a cat, mostly due to being a stray and dependent on me for his food I think. But he is loyal, and we have sat out quite a few storms together lately. He’s terrified of thunder; while the prospect of flooding from the creek across the road worries me. So, on rainy days we’re likely companions. He thinks I will save him, and he’s probably right.

So, now that we have taking a walk down fairly well, I can start training him to bring me the morning paper. After almost 2 years, it’s about time he started to earn his keep.

The Turtle

This is the first turtle I have bought home in about 3 years. There was a time when I was able to “rescue” one each year, and the last two years without seeing one crossing the road has made me a bit sad. It means that they are losing more of their habitat to us humans.

I found this plucky little fellow after a big rainstorm which was the back side of Hurricane Andres last week. He was right on the center line of the road near us, frozen there by the vibrations of the passing cars. I had to make a U-turn to go back and get him, but I’m glad I did. He might not have made it across without getting hit.

Several years ago I picked one up that and been hit and flung, cracking his shell. Not much I could do for him except to place him off the road and in the shade. I know he couldn't have lasted too long after that, but I like to think that I made him a bit more comfortable.

Turtles are very special to me. They represent not only the little red eared turtles I had as a child; and one in particular which was given to me by a friend in junior high school; they also remind me of the huge sea turtles which we encountered from time to time when I was in the Navy. These turtles would break surface; reminiscent of some prehistoric creature from the deep; gaze up into the sun, and then use their flippers to “pump” air into their shells before plunging back under the swells. Apart from the snapping turtle, they are generally such docile creatures.

One year I brought home a turtle that was almost ready to lay eggs; which of course Sue and I had no way of knowing. Hell, we didn't even know he was a she. We had been keeping “him” for a pet and were really surprised when “she” laid the eggs right in the garden where Sue had taken her for some exercise.

No sooner had she laid the eggs than she was off and running. That’s what they do. And, it also explains why so few of the hatchlings survive. That so few do, in turn, only serves to make those that do all the more special.

So this fellow; I’m calling him “Gus”, this way if “he” turns out to be a “she” I can just call her “Gussie”; is now living somewhere between my backyard and a nearby creek. I’m hoping the strawberries in the garden will keep him here, but I wouldn't put any money on it. Have you ever put a turtle down on the lawn and looked away for a minute? It’s incredible how quickly they can move when motivated. Kind of makes me think that the story that the story about the tortoise and the hare might actually be true.

Midnight Wakes

This is Midnight sleeping in what I call the "Galloping Horse" position. It means he is warm and feels safe enough to be sound asleep. The fact that he feels this way about my front porch makes me very proud, and happy. I can always count on him to be there when I get up from my mid-morning nap; he naps at about the same time that I do. But he stays out late at night, so I let him sleep until around noon.

And this is Midnight as he becomes aware of my presence. He used to simply jump up and run away; like greased lightning; but that was a while back. We have settled into an easy routine with one another, and he even trusts me enough to let me brush him with a corn broom. (I can't use a regular hair brush due to my allergies to him.) All in all, it's a nice friendship. Except for one thing;

I don't know whether this is a typical cat "yawn", or if he is just trying to tell me to go away and leave him alone. Perhaps it's the "roar of the jungle", which still runs in his veins...

The Cat House

Midnight, our resident stray, has a new home. After over a year of trying to make him comfortable; while at the same time taking care of my own allergic reactions to him; he finally has a better home than he did for the last winter. At that time he was living in our garage on an old bedspread with a heating pad to help him keep warm. This year the heating pad will be located at one end of his wicker home, and connected to a timer, which will offer him a few options in relation to how much heat he actually wants.

It’s been a year in which we have come to know one another a bit better, each respecting the others limitations and idiosyncrasies more than we first did. For instance; I now know that he strikes me with his paw as a sign of affection after I stop playing with him; while he has learned to not use his claws on me. Since he does live outdoors I cannot have his nails clipped, as that would leave him defenseless.

He has also learned not to wander too far from home, stranding himself in other people’s garages without food or water for several days. He has also learned not to cross the big open yard in back of our house which makes him a convenient target for the many hawks in the area. Last year he was actually swept up by one of these aerial predators. It was a short flight which left his ear damaged from the hawk’s talons. It actually changed the pitch of his “meow.”

The new home is of wicker construction, and was acquired by Sue at a yard sale for less than one dollar. I had already purchased a “cat bed” for him, complete with catnip, but he just kind of looked at it in a curious manner. He never even tried to lie down in it.

By contrast, from the moment Sue bought this wicker palace home, Midnight was very much interested in it. There is even a sun roof for him on top to use on nicer days. Currently, we are furnishing the inside, using Snoopy's doghouse as a guide for what Midnight might like. A small pool table is not out of reach; and a transistor radio or tummy TV is certainly affordable. But the Van Gogh is definitely out.

"Midnight's Blues"

“Midnight’s Blues”

CFG
I got a cat named Midnight
He just loves to roam
I got a cat named Midnight
He just loves to roam
But it’s past 12:30
And he still ain’t home.

I got your can of tuna
Waiting by the door.
I got your can of tuna
Waiting by the door.
I’d gladly feed you baby
If you’d come home once more.

FC/ G
Seen you in the moonlight slinking around
Seen you in daytime sleeping so sound.
Seen you in the sunshine and out in the rain
I just wish you’d come home again.

CFG
I seen you down the street
With the big white cat
I seen you down the street
With the big white cat.
I don't care who you been with,
I just want you to come back.

I got a cat named Midnight
He just loves to roam
I got a cat named Midnight
He just loves to roam
But it’s past 12:30
And he still ain’t home.

Cat Food - They Warned Me...

Everyone warned me, so I can't say that I entered this relationship blindly. "If you feed a cat once, it'll be back forever." Okay, so they were right. I gave this little feline friend a bowl of cold milk on a hot summer day and now she greets me each morning, meowing loudly to me as I bring in the morning paper. Actually, she is already waiting by the door, keening for her breakfast. And I get it for him/her. I'm allergic to cats and can't turn it over to see what it is.

Yesterday morning she was doing her act, I do think it's a she cat, and I was desperate to find her something to eat. It appears that the neighbors, who were also feeding her, have either left town, or have decided to leave feeding the cat to me. So, she got tuna fish for breakfast.

Last evening, Sue bought a more cost effective box of dry cat food for our new "pet." And when she came home, the cat was already waiting. It was as if she knew Sue was going to the store for her. And she was right. Now, if I can only train her to bring me my morning paper....

"Rescue Ink" by Rescue Ink with Denise Flaim

This is one of those books that give you hope in mankind. Just when you think the whole world has gone nuts you manage to stumble across these guys. With their common sense and hands-on approach to a despicable problem, animal abuse, Rescue Ink (Ink being a reference to their tatoos) is a breath of fresh air in a world that sometimes seems to have gone stale.

From the misssing dog to the house with 150 cats and on into the world of dogfighting, these guys go wherever their presence is requied to protect our furry little freinds. And along the way they manage to educate the reader on why it is imprtant to treat animals well and in accordance with their needs. Do YOU really want to be chained to a tree all day in the sun? Wouldn't YOU prefer to sleep indoors during the dead of winter?

Like I said, it may seem like common sense to you or I, but some people just don't get it. I hope one of them reads this book!

Visit their website at www.RESCUEINK.org