Where the hell did March go? Weren’t we JUST in February? Time flies when you’re trying to be a ladyblog, for sure. Today’s lunchtime poll is about pets. I am a huge animal person. Right now, it’s only cats at the MacIntosh house, but I’ve owned a good number of dogs and loved all sorts of other critters in my day. Read More LTP: 3/28
I’m quite familiar with this process, being a nearly-lifelong rabbit owner, so I thought I’d help guide you all through the stages of pet-rejection grief, should you ever encounter it. I’m working from my experience with rabbits, here, but you can insert any aloof pet: other small animals, many cats, and the occasional dog. Read More When Your Pet Hates You: Six Stages of Grief
I was completely stumped and unable to come up with a fun audience participation dare, so tonight you get an open thread! Spontaneous dance parties, discussions about cute famous people and stories about your pets are encouraged. Have fun, we’ll see you in the morning! (Various staff people will be around to approve new commenters!)
Pets are the best. In the US, we love dogs and cats to the point that we treat them like members of our family. Thanks to thousands of years of co-existing and learning to manipulate one other for our mutual benefit, the human-cat or human-dog relationship is quite a beautiful thing. And, believe me; I love both dogs and cats. But what about the other pets? As someone with a “weird” pet ““ two, actually ““ I’d like to defend them. Read More Here’s To You, Weird Pets of America
So, you know how sometimes dogs can sniff out cancer? Or how your cat will come sit by you when you’re feeling sad? I think it’s scientifically proven, although I am too lazy to look it up, that animals sense your emotions. If it’s not scientific there are plenty of anecdotes, and that’s good enough for me. Well, I think I gave my cat depression. Linus was always a little more of a nervous cat. He hides when people are over. But, in the last 6 months, when I’ve been in the throes of this most recent bout of depression, Linus has become even more reclusive than usual. He hides under the covers or under the bed all day, only coming out to eat wet food and then retreating immediately to the Cat Cave. By comparison, I hide in a blanket on the couch all day, emerging only to eat ice cream and then retreating for a nap. If Linus and I could curl up in the bed all day together, napping and eating wet food in bed, we would both be pretty content.
Now, I have no evidence that I actually gave Linus my depression, but he has become my anthropomorphic depression. I am Jack’s depressed cat. I realized how protective I was of Linus’s depression when Mr. Furious finally got fed up that Linus pees sometimes in the bedroom. Because really, who can be bothered to go to the bathroom? Not me. I’d be lying if I said that adult diapers haven’t had their appeal at various low points in my life. Mr. Furious suggested sequestering Linus in the bathroom, a technique that worked when we got a kitten a couple years ago. The thought of Linus crying and pawing at the bathroom door just broke my heart. “He’s fine in the bedroom,” I pleaded. “He just wants to cuddle up with his mama. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Mr. Furious didn’t understand my reluctance to help Linus. “He wants to get better,” he said.
But. It’s hard. And that’s when I realized that my fear for Linus working on his behavior, is really just my fear of working out of my own depression. For both me and Linus, that bed is safe. We don’t have to do anything scary or hard. And someone is always going to bring us wet food.
This is quite possibly the saddest thing ever, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. Because as I’m working on Linus’s depression, I’m really working on my own. And pretty soon we’ll both be chasing the laser around like we like to do. Or something.
My cat, Frances Mittendorf, is very responsive. He knows his name and nicknames and answers to them. And in case you think he answers to just anything, he doesn’t. I called him Steve once to test this, he ignored me. I called him Bruce Boxleitner, nothing. Read More Highly Capable Cat