 The
Cat's Meow
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| Issue 1, vol 6 | January 31, 2007: The Cat's Garden | January 31, 2007 |
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Plants Poisonous to Cats & Dogs
Once again, it's almost time to put out a garden and start beautifying the yard for the warmer months. Garden catalogs are arriving daily with lists and photos of luscious fruits and vegetables and lovely flowers, and the truly dedicated gardener is readying hothouse and planting flats for use. We understand your impatience and exuberance...but we would like to caution you, as caring and vigilant furparents, to use caution in what you plant! You may want to consider fencing your garden to keep your cat or dog from nibbling at the tomatoes, which will make him very sick. And many flowers, while lovely to the nose and eye, are also poisonous. You may want to think carefully before planting some of these beauties; they'll not be made more attractive by being displayed on kitty's grave.... The list below is long, but when your pet's safety is involved, isn't it better to plant something that's not only pretty but harmless, as well? Do you have a brown thumb? Well, you'll still want to read this list! Discarded foods in your trashcan,
such as avocado pits, apple cores, and the almonds covering the leftover bits of your Super Bowl party cheeseball are poisonous to pets, too. Knowing what not to leave where
a pet can ingest it as a midnight snack can save you a hefty vet bill!
Alfalfa Reprinted from Helene's Place Site Ring |
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Barbwire Cats |
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 A proud veteran of the Great Rat War |
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Part One: Clayton’s Story (continued from previous issue) In 1941 The Great Attack came to Barbwire, California. This attack was a boundless ocean of rats and Barbwire was going to need every single kitty-cat it could get its hands on! Before the Rat-War, there had never been any cats in Barbwire. Now, not only were they here, they were genuine, honest-to-goodness celebrities ... Here in Barbwire, the Sheriff’s Office doubles as the Animal Control Office. And just like human jails, it is always overcrowded. Whenever I’m at the station, I always stop by the doggy-jail to see who got busted, and to make sure they have food and water. So when I saw a huge tiger-striped tom-cat in the Maximum Security cage, with two Pit-Bulls, and a Doberman, I guessed right away that THE CAT was the thing that didn’t belong ... Installment 9 Sean explained excitedly,“So this cat sinks both of his top fangs into Navarro’s radial artery, and won’t let go. And now Deputy Navarro is the guy who’s screamin’, “Get it off! Get it off!” So while Garland’s runnin’ back out to the unit, to get his “Hazardous-Materials” gloves, Navarro’s got this cat dangling from his wrist like a giant charm bracelet. Navarro’s tryin’ to get his gun back out to shoot the cat off him, but he’s in so much pain, he starts to feel like he’s gonna faint, so he can’t get it out of the holster. Garland finally comes back with the gloves and gets a hold of our friend here without getting bit or scratched, but when he yanks the cat away from Navarro’s arm, he jerked it too hard, and that artery broke or ripped or something." ... I shook my head. “Wow, what a mess. So then Navarro came back here after the hospital and tossed the cat into the Maximum cage, right? Then what, he just walked away?” Sean replied, “That’s it, he figured he'd let the dogs get his revenge for him.” “Yeah”, I said, “Talk about your nine lives, huh? Well, you know we can’t just leave him in there forever Sean, right? I mean he’s been in there 5 or six days and he’s healthy as he can be, so it can’t be rabies.” “Yeah, I guess not”, He looked down to avoid looking at me. “Then what’s the problem, Sean?” “I’m sorry, Clayton, but I’m not going in there to get him.” “Oh, but you are Sean! What’s wrong with you? Is the big, bad policeman scared?” “I’m not scared! I just hate those things!” He glared at me. I didn’t think my “Cats aren’t dangerous.” speech would be much help under the circumstances, so I shuffled my feet and stared at the ground too. Finally, Sean confessed, “OK, I’m scared! There! Are you happy now? You stupid jerk!” “Come on, Deputy Moran, where is your pride, lad?” I tried to joke. He said “I left it at home, along with your brains.” We both laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. I said, “OK look, I’ll go in and get him out. But you stay right there, and if any of those jumbos even wags his tail at me, mace him severely. By the way, where’d you get those monstrousities from? Sean smiled, “We confiscated them when we busted the dog fight championships over in Bridgerton on Wednesday” Darn! I wished I’d of been riding along for that one! There woulda have been some sorry-faced humans sittin’ in this cage with these innocent dogs and cat. But it’s probably better that I wasn’t." I said, “Ok, change of plan. If anything happens, mace down the whole cage. Everything except for me and the cat, understand Sean?” Suddenly the idea of Sean spraying mace in my direction, made me feel a little sick. Through an evil-looking grin, Sean said, “Sure Clay, you know you can always count on me.” Everything went fine, neither the cat nor any of the dogs gave me any trouble. I could see that this bad-boy wasn’t really tickled with the idea of me picking him up, but even so, he was smart enough to know that it was his best option. I liked this cat, liked his spirit. I told Sean that if anyone asked about the cat, Especially Navarro, tell him the dogs just ripped him to shreds. I put him in an extra-large cat-carrier (he is an extra-large cat) and brought him home with me. He was wearing a very old threadbare collar that was too small and tight around his thick neck, so I took it off of him and brought it in the house. It had a rat-shaped steel tag hanging from it. I washed off most of the rust and read the inscription; “For Courageous Actions During The Battle of Barbwire 1941”. This bruiser was only about two years old, not sixty-three, so where did he get it? I stood there in thinking about it, recalling the stories of the Rat-War of 1941. It all seemed to become clear to me. For sixty-three years, somebody had made sure that this medal was passed down, all the way from its original recipient, to a cat chosen from each generation. Maybe that was why he hadn’t run from the guy that threw the stone. By some mystical means he felt that as long as he wore that medal, running from a fight, as much as he might really want to, would simply not be possible for him. Now I understood the lonely and violent life he had inherited. Remembering what Sean had called him, I named him Psycho, for luck. I let him stay in the garage. I gave him plenty of good food and water, and he seemed very content to be safe and at peace again. I had his medal cleaned and polished like new, and got him a new, red, white, and blue silk-collar for it. When he saw it, he trotted right over to me and let me put it back on him. I kept him in the garage for three days, so he’d start to think of it as home. Then I started letting him out during the day. He always came home (to his garage) just as the sun was setting. That’s when the coyotes are coming out to hunt. And he was more than welcome to stay and be my garage-cat as long as he wanted to. In the meantime, Lupe was just itching to know exactly what was happening. Her curiosity must have been unbearable. It seemed to me that it was all she thought about. She stayed by the inside garage door practically twenty-four hours a day, listening and sniffing. I just assumed she was upset that her territory had been violated, and whoever was out there could not leave too soon. I thought that she was either worried that I was going to replace her, or she just purely hated the idea that somebody else was eating her food. I gave it a good three weeks before introducing them. I just opened the door and let them handle the formalities themselves. Now, I don’t know why, but I guess I had just assumed that Psycho would approach the door and eventually come inside the house. So I was very surprised that it was Lupe who made the first move. Without any hesitation, she marched confidently into the garage, walked up to him and stood not more that three inches from his face. She looked him up and down. Since he'd already gotten himself all cleaned up, he passed the appearance phase. Then she sniffed him all over, and again he seemed to pass inspection. Then she walked back around in front of him and looked him in the eye. To my horror, he started to puff-up and to growl at her. She appeared not to notice, and then she began the entire inspection over again. Once again, when she got all the way around, he made threatening noises and movements. I was ready to intervene at any second. I was afraid that she didn't recognize the danger signs, because she'd never even met another cat before, especially one like him. She seemed completely indifferent to him, like she’d gone through this procedure a million times, and was a little annoyed by having to do it again. So I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when her left paw flashed out and slashed at the tip of his nose, hitting him three times in a half-second. I started forward to grab her away from Psycho before he could retaliate. I could see a lot of blood on his nose, and there was a big drop of blood on the garage floor. Except for that lightning-fast strike, Lupe had not moved. She was still sitting calmly in front of him like nothing unusual was happening. Psycho turned around and walked away as fast as his dignity would allow. He was doing that head-shaking thing that cats do, trying to shake off the pain and blood. His Rat-Medal jingled as he retreated. I was shaking all over, like a dog tryin' to pass a peach-pit. When I turned and walked back toward the door, Lupe was proudly bouncing along beside me. I can still see it right now like it was five minutes ago. And I'm still completely astonished by the whole scene. She is such a gentle and affectionate cat. Why had she done it? Moreover, how had she gotten away with it? She knew nothing about other cats. How could she have been so confident, so calm? WHAT WAS SHE THINKING? I started to see her in a whole different light, but I hadn't seen anything yet. (Continued in the next issue of The Cat's Meow) David Perry lives in the High Desert of southern California
with his two cats, Psycho and Lupe. His first novel "WHISPERING CATS" is due out mid-year 2007. |
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