I’m not a big fan of the ASPCA. I think they waste too much money on administrative costs. Years ago, I sent them $30, and I think they spent that entire amount on postage and phone calls asking me for more money. However, here in California, they are behind an initiative that I think is good: license plates for pet lovers, the proceeds of which go toward spay and neuter programs.

I hope indeed that the purchase of these plates funds many spay/neuter programs, but I also think that the “spay/neuter” message contained on the plates will help raise awareness of the problem. That in itself earns my support.

Oh, by the way, the plate was designed by actor Pierce Brosnan!

Learn more about the plates here: http://www.caspayplate.com/main.php

The cats have made progress, but it’s been in the two steps forward, one step back fashion. They don’t frenzy at 6 a.m. and 5 p.m. as much as they use to, but when they do figure out that their meal is forthcoming—no matter what time it is—the insanity begins. I’ve found that while I’m sitting down, they’re quiet. The minute I get up, they assume it’s mealtime. And I’m trying hard not to link any specific action on my part to the giving of food, nor am I rewarding bad behavior.

The experiment is much like a game of tennis. I’m going to give last week’s set to the cats. But the game is far from over!

I stopped by the lion enclosure one day while visiting the San Diego Zoo. The head keeper was giving a talk about the lions, and I joined the large group that had gathered to hear him speak. Someone in the audience asked him at what times he fed the lions each day. His answer surprised me. He said that he doesn’t feed them at set times, that he alters the time every day because if he feeds them at the same time each day, the lions spend a good portion of their time in antsy anticipation.

That sounded familiar. Hmmmm…

I can set my clock by the cats. They know they get fed at 6:00 a.m. when I finish showering and again at 5 p.m. (or whenever I get home from work). If I forget, they let me know! But what struck a chord with me was the lion keeper’s description of how the big cats would spend so much time anticipating their meals. Here at the Cat Puke Cat Farm, the pre-meal drama begins anywhere from a half hour to an hour prior to meals. Behavior becomes more aggressive, especially toward each other, they dog my step from room to room, surf the counters looking for food, and howl and hiss and pester. And cats don’t understand weekends. They don’t get “sleeping in.” Feed them at 6 a.m. Monday through Friday, and they want breakfast in their bowls at 6 a.m. on Saturday and Sunday. And no amount of ignoring, pleading, or threatening can change their minds. The “antsy anticipation” was getting out of hand.

Cats are just little lions, right? They should respond similarly to behavior modification, no? Remembering the lion keeper’s words, we decided to try an experiment. There would be no more “set” meal times. Bowls would be filled at random and not associated with any event, such as returning home from work. Howling and fussing would not be rewarded with food.

We’re one week into this experiment. The cats are less than enthused. They haven’t forgotten their old meal times and are somewhat confused by the change in schedule (or lack of schedule!). However, this morning (Saturday) there seemed to be less vocalizing and pestering, especially early on. Around 8:00 a.m., Thomas made his bid for mealtime by scratching on the sofa but was rewarded by a shout, not by kibble. I’ll post an update each weekend to let you know how it’s going. Go ahead, place bets to see who will win…the cats or the humans. Frankly, I’m not sure whom to bet on myself!

While picking up Science Diet at the vet’s this afternoon, I overheard a conversation between a vet tech and an old man regarding the status of his old cat. From what I gleaned, the cat’s health was rapidly deteriorating, and its time was being measured in days, not weeks or years.

When I turned around, I saw an elderly man with a cane wearing the most dejected face I have ever seen. But I have seen that face before. I have seen that face looking back at me in the mirror. In every pet lover’s life, you will face that day when the vet says there’s nothing that can be done, that the best you can do is keep your pet comfortable for a few days, maybe a week. I have worn that face many times, and I will wear it again.

The vet tech brought his old cat out in a carrier. The cat meowed a few times. The old man spoke gently to his old cat, and the two left silently, like the passing of two ghosts.

I buried someone’s cat today.

As I was leaving to go hiking around noon today, I saw a kitty lying dead on the street in front of our apartments. Dodging cars, I scooped her up and took her to the parking lot. She was a pretty kitty, a tabby, with white markings on her face and neck. There was very little blood—just a few drops in her mouth. She had not been dead long, as her body was still limp and warm. I held her in my arms just like I hold my own cats. Only her sweet little head flopped over the side of my arm, her half-closed eyes stared straight ahead, and she breathed no more. Her right front leg was broken at the humerus; I could feel the two ends beneath her skin, and the leg flopped unnaturally.

I’m describing this in such detail for a reason. It’s a warning…a warning of what it will be like for you if you let your cat (or dog, for that matter) roam outside in an urban area. Someday, you’ll probably be the one retrieving your pet’s lifeless body from the street. Because this was someone’s kitty. She was well nourished and had the plump physique of a cat that had been spayed. Her fur was soft, and her ears were clean….not the trademarks of a stray. I want to warn you of the sadness you’ll feel when you hold that animal’s lifeless body, knowing only hours before it was enjoying its life.

Maybe this kitty’s guardian thought it was cruel to keep her inside. I agree with the Humane Society of the United States: keeping your cat indoors is the kindest thing you can do. Dying on the street alone and in agony isn’t kind. Maybe this kitty’s guardian could no longer keep her, for whatever reason, and thought she would have a chance on the street. Well, we can see how that chance turned out. If you are experiencing financial difficulty and worry about providing for your pet, please contact your local Humane Society or your veterinarian. They can either help your pet find another home or direct you to local organizations that can assist you with vet bills and food so your pet can remain with you. Dumping your pet is never the answer.

I buried kitty in the same area where five of my cats are buried—under a big tree in the countryside. The land abuts a nature preserve where I like to hike. I only knew this kitty in death, but that didn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. When the grave was covered, I said a prayer for her…a prayer asking that, when her spirit returns again, may she find a home with a responsible guardian where she will be well-cared for and kept safe. Because that is what every animal deserves—a guardian who will love them enough to keep them safe.

Tonight I will light a candle and think about her. I’m sorry, kitty.

Chaos ensues when Martin gets tangled in a plastic grocery bag. He races madly from room to room, sending cats careening and humans tripping. Ah, kittenhood!

Having five cats + enjoy beading = furbeads

Read the article on MSNBC.

This video demonstrates a form of benign puking that I call the “gluttony puke.” Kitty has simply filled his/her stomach too full with something yummy or exotic, and tummy protests. This is one of those times when you don’t need to seek veterinary help. In fact, cats will often immediately return to their food bowls or cat grass and load up for another round.

Simone is a chow hound who has raised gluttony to an art form. Generally she keeps her meals down, as evidenced by her plump appearance. I made the mistake of leaving her alone with a pot of cat grass, and she showed no restraint. Well, it came back to bite her…literally.

*According to Thomas Aquinas, there were six ways to commit the sin of gluttony. Nimis (eating too much) and Ardenter (eating too eagerly) are but two, and Simone is guilty of both.

Many people throw things, yell, or slam doors when they’re upset. According to researchers at Ohio State University, when some cats are unhappy or pissed off, they puke.

This article on MSNBC explains that “when cats in the study experienced ‘unusual external events’, such as a change in the caretaker or feeding schedule, the healthy ones were just as likely as the chronically ill ones to exhibit sickness behaviors.”

Fortunately, the gods have smiled on me, and I’ve never had a cat who was a pissed-off puker. Mine have been hair pullers, plucking the fur from their bellies or chewing it off their backs when they’ve been stressed by a move or a new feline addition to the household. Toby wasn’t pleased when David and I moved in together; he vented by peeing on the T-shirts and towels David left on the floor of his bathroom.

Cats were already masters of the guilt trip. Now it’s our fault when they puke, too.

2011 began as most years do in our household: with a bang and a barf. The guilty party is in the foreground.

The old year ended on a happier note: the addition of two new kitties into the Cat Puke Clan. Rowan and Martin are six-month-old brothers we adopted on December 27 from Petco in Santee. Photos will be posted shortly. They’re adorable and, so far, they haven’t puked. We’re off to a good start!