Pet Monologues

Buford was not as dumb as his name might imply. Well, sometimes he wasn’t, anyway. For a while, he ran with a bad crowd – the dogs from down the road that took to killing the sheep across the river. We knew that our dog was just scavenging what the others had killed; we also knew the sheeps’ owner would have every reason and right to rid himself of any canine scourge, even ours.

So we started chaining Buford up when we weren’t home. It was a long chain, but still: cooped up all day in the driveway with only three trees to play with. And one to play in. It was nearly dead, with a hollow at the top of the trunk that filled with rain on a regular basis. Buford would sometimes scramble up, to stand and drool amid the few large, lopped-off branches before skittering down to wave his long feathery tail at us as we cheered. Read the rest of this entry »

Listen, I get that you’re a cat. I’m actually OK with all that. I like not having to take you on 5am walks or to pry a slobbery, grass-caked tennis ball out of your food hole only to throw it again so that you can have a cheap thrill. You’re above all that. But still…gimme a break, shithead!

It’s like, I’m minding my own business, asleep in my bed, totally dreaming about pizza, and you lay down on my face! Hey, ass butt, news flash: I need that to breath and live! Don’t sleep on it! Shit! Also I can smell your butt when you do that, because your idiot moron cat brain makes you think that I might actually WANT to smell it (which I totally don’t) so you deftly position it right in front of my nose. Here’s a shocker, my friend - your butt smells bad! It smells like a butt that just got pooped out of! DIARRHEA pooped out of. I’m no vet, but you should get that checked out. I know the whole barbed johnson thing makes gettin’ some a bit less complicated for you, but I can tell you from personal experience that girls don’t want to be constantly reminded that you have an asshole and poop comes out of it. Read the rest of this entry »

This morning, I was assaulted by my cat in a way that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. My kitties and I have a morning routine that involves saying goodbye before I walk out the door. I was suited up, ready to go, and I walked over to my dresser to retrieve my keys. As usual, my male kitty was lounging on the dresser, waiting for him goodbye scratches. He stood up to give me my usual nuzzle goodbye, and then the most unholy of acts took place. The friendly feline stretched, and the force of his stretch caused his anal glands to express….all over my face and in my mouth.

Now, a little biology background for those of you who aren’t in the know. Dogs and cats have these glands in their anus that get expressed, usually when they defecate. The smell is somewhat akin to rotting bodies that have been dry-rubbed with gorgonzola cheese and then spit-roasted over a pile of burning feces. Yum. Plus, like all organic smells, it tends to bind to fabrics, which makes for a pleasant surprise when your cat rubs its butt on your sheets or couch. But, nothing compares to being sprayed full on in the face with this heinous slime. Read the rest of this entry »

Marco, a large brown tabby cat, stately sits on his haunches outside Venice’s Ospedale Civile, welcoming all who come to visit loved ones at this hospital. Is that a smirk on his face, or do I imagine a smug smile when I notice a sign on the door showing a dog in a circle with the slash symbol through it? Marco is the hospital’s official greeter. “It gives people hope when they see him,” says Gabriella Sanna, secretary of Dingo, a non-profit organization that helps care for some 500 stray cats in Venice and its islands. Venice is but one Italian city where numerous gattare (cat ladies) take care of homeless felines and is the first stop on our 12-day “Cats and Culture” tour from Venice to Rome in October’s perfect weather.

Venetians’ affection for cats dates back centuries because of the feline affinity for rodents. Special Venetian cats even were bred in the 13th Century to go after rats carrying the black plague. About 40 cats — gatti, in Italian — live at Venice’s main hospital, which dates from the 15th Century. “The hospital has many mice, so the cats are welcome here,” Sanna says. Read the rest of this entry »

Pet-Food Recall Over 40 brands of cat and dog food have been pulled from the shelves all over the U.S. Read the rest of this entry »

We have two cats and they are always playing tricks on one another. Two weeks ago Adolf (the black cat) jumped on Mozart (the other cat) from the dining room table while Adolf was napping. I am not sure what we caught with this picture.

A picture is worth many words. This is a nightly event we are talking about.