[stylist] Nonfiction -- Stray Cat & Working Dog: abandonment, rescue & redemption in the middle of nowhere

Fri Apr 25 15:26:24 UTC 2014

Hi Friends,

Here is the text of my latest post. Part of what I'm trying to do on my blog
is to generate interest in different aspects of my novel, The Heart of
Applebutter Hill. Douglas Adams fans will appreciate this one as well as
animal lovers. The link is below the title for those who have some sight and
want to look at some cute animal pictures from my hubby Rich. And, you would
be helping me by leaving a comment using the accessible comment form link at
the bottom of this email.

 Stray Cat & Working Dog: Abandonment, Rescue & Redemption in the Middle of
Nowhere

Published 4/21/14

http://donnawhill.com/2014/04/21/stray-cat-working-dog-abandonment-rescue/

Word Count: 1742 

According to an evolutionary time-line exhibit at Wyoming's Fossil Butte
National Monument, dogs and cats shared a common ancestry until 42 million
years ago. Factions from both groups ultimately took the plunge into
domestication, so what drove them apart to begin with? 

 An Explanation

My musings on this subject are rooted in the reference to "42." As a fan of
the late British sci-fi writer and satirist Douglas Adams (1952 - 2001), I
treasure any mention of the number. Actually, I'm obsessed with it. The
first paragraph in this article, for instance, contains 42 words, but that
was an accident. Wasn't it?

In Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, originally a BBC radio
production turned into a 'trilogy' of 'five' novels, 42 turns out to be the
answer to "life, the universe and everything." I collect such references,
and wrote an article in homage to Adams in 2009. He has yet to properly
thank me for it. Unless, of course, it was he who sent the cat.

Cats and Dogs: Irreconcilable Differences?

My interest in cats and dogs and their relationships with us and each other
comes from a lifetime of living with dogs and a good little while of living
with one particular cat named Goofus. 

Some rifts in the ancestral dog-cat community seem painfully obvious --
especially from the cat's perspective. Grace, for instance, though not
entirely lacking in the canine, reaches the level of an art-form in felines.

Some dog-cat predecessors preferred a unilateral gait, both right legs
stepping forward together and vice versa. Others -- "plodders and klutzes,"
as our cat would call them -- adopted a bilateral gait -- right front and
left rear and vice versa. Humans do this with our arms - a point which
pretty much seals the inferiority of it in the cat's view.

Then, there is the issue of the collarbone. Humans and canines apparently
agreed on this one also. 

"Yes, of course we want collarbones; see how big and strong they make our
shoulders look?" 

We might assume that the cat would have taken the plunge into vanity on this
point, but for the cat, survival is the most attractive thing on the menu.
Proto-cat valued the ability to squeeze through narrow spots -- a feat which
is compromised when the limitation is the width of your shoulders and not
your head. Cats have "floating" collarbones, buried in their shoulder
muscles. 

Several other features ensure the feline's survival. Sensitive and
functional whiskers, adjustable and independent ears, and elliptical pupils
make hunting at night a viable option. The dog yawns and wonders why anyone
would want to go out at night, when everyone's sleeping. 

There is also the whole "sniffing the butt" ritual. Though it is one of the
canine's greatest pleasures, it remains unseemly to the feline. The cat is
also offended by the whole obedience thing. Tolerating the propensity of the
dog to throw all dignity to the wind for the sake of trifles is, as I am
assured, one of the thankless burdens of being a cat. 

"And those tales! You look like you're being followed by an invisible
oscillating fan. Is that why you chase them? Just trying to get them to slow
down?"

Animal Abandonment & Rescue

Despite the cat's self-proclaimed superiority, it was the dog that saved the
cat, at least in our lives. According to the ASPCA, a pet is beaten or
neglected every 60 seconds. 

One such victim was a six-month-old strawberry-blonde, neutered male tabby,
who was dropped off in the middle of nowhere in the summer of 2010. With
shelters filled to capacity during the recession and embarrassment no small
factor, many animals were abandoned along rural roads to survive or die by
their own wits.

The middle of nowhere is where we live. The first thing we noticed was a
beautiful cat watching Rich from afar as he worked in the barn, on the
vehicles and preparing firewood for the upcoming winter. His coat was so
thick and luxurious that we assumed he had a home. Then, as I walked our
trails with Hunter, my black Lab guide dog, I heard a small animal following
us. 

"These rabbits are getting really brazen," I thought, but it wasn't a
rabbit. It wasn't a squirrel either.

One night, with a stone wall between us, he talked to me, and I was smitten.
As winter approached, he started hanging around more often. We began
suspecting that he was a stray. We didn't really want a cat. I was allergic,
and how fair would it be to Hunter to bring an interloper into our little
family?

We put food out for him, and somebody ate it. Toward the end of November as
the temperatures dipped below freezing, he approached Hunter and me with the
most mournful and urgent tale. Animals don't generally want anything to do
with me. They must see that I have one of their kind in harness and don't
want to risk a similar fate. But, this cat was desperate and, in all
fairness to his dignity, he had been vetting us for months.

The Reality of Goofus

When we finally got our hands on him, we realized that he was all skin and
bones, infested with worms and covered in ticks. We thought he had been
declawed; even when Rich spread his toes, he could see nothing resembling a
claw. 

"We'll just get him cleaned up and healthy. Then we'll give him to the
shelter."

Yeah, right. Our local Humane Society is a "no kill" shelter, and they were
full. By the time they had room, we loved him, and Hunter decided that kitty
could stay. 

"He's OK; he's just a little trouble." 

We supplemented his food with homemade turkey breast. We got him a litter
box, which he refused to use. Having spent so much of his short life
outdoors, he wasn't comfortable staying inside. For months, he continually
flexed his claws, trying to get his strength back. As his health returned,
he began to shun the human's food, running to leave the house whenever we
showed the slightest inclination to eat. 

Goofus became a skilled hunter, ridding our barn of mice. And my allergies?
Not an issue; he smells like the great outdoors. 

Cat and Dog: Brothers and Friends

Goofus maintains a curiosity about Hunter's diet. He is allowed to stick his
head in the bowl while his brother eats. More amazing than Hunter's
tolerance is that Goofus, who is fastidious to the extreme, is willing to
risk being pelted with bits of flying food and that Hunter, who enjoys the
stereotypical Labrador fondness for anything remotely edible, never touches
kitty's food. 

Hunter likes to run up to whatever chair Goofus is in and smash his snoot
into him, sneezing and slobbering. Goofus, who is still wary of most dogs
and humans, accepts these overtures without hesitation or complaint. They
head-butt and sprawl on the floor together, and they keep each other's
confidences.

Many times, when I can't find kitty, I have asked Hunter to find him.
Hunter, who dug my glove out of a foot of snow and who comes running at the
sound of me dropping anything, will not show me where Goofus is. 

Only once did he break from this policy. Goofus had been gone for three
days. We were convinced we'd lost him. One evening after lots of tears, I
took Hunter out for a break. In a last-ditch effort I said, "Can't you find
kitty for Mama?"

He led me into the high grass where I found a cowering, but otherwise
unharmed Goofus, who allowed himself to be scooped up into my arms and
returned to the house. He'd probably been treed by a neighbor's dog. 

Nowadays, Goofus spends most of his time in our laps or at least keeping our
chairs warm. My knitting is out in the open all over the house, and he never
touches it. He still enjoys accompanying us on our last walk of the evening.
In summer, he escorts us to the door and then peels off into the night.

Dogs and Cats in The Heart of Applebutter Hill

Curly Connor, half black Lab and half Golden Retriever, and Emmett, a
rescued orange tabby kitten, each play a prominent role in my novel, The
Heart of Applebutter Hill. Curly Connor works as a guide dog for the
fourteen-year-old heroine Abigail, a shy singer-songwriter. 

Block quote 

The Fluffer-Noodle, as she often called him, was over two years old and had
long since developed specific ideas about how things should be. When
something was not to his liking, Abigail and her best friend Baggy Brichaz
would say that it had "offended his delicate sensibilities," and the
prospect of spending a splendid May afternoon indoors was threatening to do
just that. (The Heart of Applebutter Hill, Chapter 1)

Block quote end

Abigail and Baggy attend the Plumkettle Learning Center. Emmett shows up
during the headmaster's speech on the first day of the summer term. 

 Block quote

Abigail, who was sitting midway back along the center aisle with Curly
Connor at her feet, lost the thread of the headmaster's speech as people
around her began to whisper. Several girls a few rows ahead squealed, as one
of them picked up the orange kitten that had been outside when they arrived.
All over the auditorium, heads turned toward them.

"Ah, yes," said Cinderbin back at his microphone, "You have discovered
Emmett." He paused as everyone looked toward the squealing girls. "Stand up,
Miss Brown," he said to the girl holding the purring kitten, "Emmett has
adopted the Plumkettle Learning Center. He started showing up at Transition
House a week ago. After they succumbed to feeding him several times, Mrs.
Shafer and Mrs. Ervy thought it would be prudent to name him." (The Heart of
Applebutter Hill, Chapter 26)

Block quote end

While Curly Connor provides a glimpse into the working relationship between
human and canine, Emmett's role shows humanity's dark side. He is targeted
by a group of students who take more pleasure from hurting animals than
loving them. Does Emmett survive? Come find out.   Get a Free e-copy of The
Heart of Applebutter Hill, Review it on Amazon & be entered in the drawing
to win a print copy: 

http://donnawhill.com/book-giveaway-sign-up-read-the-heart-of-applebutter-hi
ll-for-free-and-help-promote-braille-literacy/

Screen reader users:  Every page and post now has a link labeled "Accessible
Comment Form for Screen Reader Users." It is accessible, but does not link
directly to the automated comments system. It will be sent to me, however,
and I will find someone to post it on your behalf. The URL is: 

http://donnawhill.com/accessible-comment-form-for-screen-reader-users-3

-- The Heart of Applebutter Hill - a novel on a mission:

http://DonnaWHill.com <http://donnawhill.com/> 