Ten Benefits of Owning a Cat

Here's an interesting article about why cats are beneficial to own.  Intelligence, allergies, sleep and more.  Check it out.

Catdog

Watch this great video about a puppy adopted by a cat.

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National Hairball Awareness Day - April 29

NATIONAL HAIRBALL AWARENESS DAY

National Hairball Awareness Day is observed annually on the last Friday in April. This day is listed as one of the Pet Health Awareness Events of the American Veterinary Medical Association.  The formation of hairballs is a common feline condition that is brought on by self-grooming and the associated ingestion of hair.

HOW TO OBSERVE
Observe National Hairball Day by becoming educated about this condition. Visit http://www.hillspet.com/our-company/national-hairball-awareness-day.html to learn about things you can do to prevent your cat from developing hairballs.  Share your love for your cat using #HairballAwarenessDay on social media.

HISTORY
Within our research, (national calendar events) we were unable to find the origin of National Hairball Awareness Day

The Scaredy Cat Mailman

British Couple Faces Mail Suspension Because Their Cat Scares the Postman

The Royal Mail informed the couple that Bella the cat endangers the postman's fingers

Rain, snow, sleet and hail aren’t supposed to deter postal workers from delivering the mail — but it seems one feisty cat is enough to bring the system crashing to a halt.

The Royal Mail service in Englandinformed a couple by letter that their cat, Bella, was disrupting mail delivery to their letter slot. The couple has to remove the cat or get an external mailbox, with the threat of mail suspension if nothing is done, the BBC reports.

“Your postman has reported that when he pushes the mail through your letterbox your cat snatches the mail and puts his fingers at risk of injury,” the letter states. One of the mail recipients, Matthew Sampson, said he believes Bella was playing a game with the postman.

Article link

Female Mail

Woman Accidentally Mails Her Cat

It had climbed into a box of DVDs

Recently, a British woman accidentally mailed a package of DVDs that her cat had climbed into.

The female Siamese cat “Cupcake” survived the eight-day, over 260-mile journey across the south coast of England, from Falmouth in Cornwall to Worthing, West Sussex. The recipient called the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA), which took the cat to Grove Lodge Veterinary Group. According to a blog post on the website for the practice, the cat’s microchip was scanned, which brought up current contact information for its owner Julie Baggott, who had already been searching frantically for the feline in her neighborhood.

The feline underwent intensive treatment for extreme dehydration before being reunited with its owner.

Article link

3:30 a.m.

Today, my cat either (1) decided he needed to sleep longer because it was cold and dreary out or (2) decided he'd be nice to me.  I think it was #1.  Lately, one of our cats, Baby, has decided that 3:30 a.m. is a great time to wake up, meow loudly several times and then want to go outside to play.  The frustrating part is that he meows, then waits.  Me, in a semi-sleep stupor, try to snap my fingers indicating to him that he needs to lay back down on the bed and shut up.  He, in a cat-ignoring way, decides not to listen.  Over and over he continues his meowing antics until frustrated I clamber out of bed and look for his fuzzy body in the dark.  If I go for him in a rage, he'll hide.  If I act like I'm glad to see him, he'll come to me.  He looks at me like, "Oh, you're awake!  Awesome!  Can I eat?  How about some petting?  Outside to play maybe?"  It's always outside when he wakes me that early.

Later in the morning when I get up, guess who's outside looking in the window?  And of course, if some other member of the family comes by and asks, "Why is Baby outside?", he looks at them like he's been tortured and neglected and how dare he be left out in the dark and cold.  Who would do such a thing as he looks at me with an innocent but condescending stare.  I feel like he needs to be a furry football right about then.  The rest of the family treats him like royalty as he once again gets his way.

Midnight Attack

            I’ve just gone to bed.  It’s been a long day and I’m tired.  Usually I put the cats outside at night, but since it’s cold I decide to leave them in. Bad idea!  As I prepare for bed, brush my teeth, use the bathroom and follow my nightly ritual, the cats sit quietly watching.  They look so innocent.  Soft, fuzzy creatures lying on the couch or chairs minding their own business, cleaning themselves for a nice warm night inside and preparing for bed, or so it seems.

            As I shut off the lights I make my way around the living room to give each fuzz ball of potential energy a scrub on the head just to let them know they are loved.  As if they needed reassurance.  They clean as if I don’t exist.  They act as if I’m interrupting something important.  How dare I mess up their preened fur.  That I should touch them without permission, at night, during their evening ritual?  What was I thinking?

            So off I go to bed.  The lights go out.  I snuggle under the warmth of the covers and close my eyes.  Sleep!  Or so I think.  As I start to drift into a fog of thoughtlessness a sound in the distance brings me instantly back to consciousness.  Tiny, furry feet have suddenly grown to the size of small elephants.  I hear the thunder in the distance as it grows in intensity and then races past my bedroom door.  The Doppler Effect is quite evident as the sounds grow from quiet to loud and back again. 

            As the cats turn the house into a midnight freeway, my ability to sleep becomes an in and out affair.  I drift off, they race by occasionally plowing into a door or wall and I wake back up.  All is quiet.  I drift away and the squeal of one cat chomping on the hindquarter of another reaches my ears.  Awake again.  Then the crash of something off of a table or the soft “thump” of a feline WWF participant hitting the floor after falling from the side of the couch.  More thumping.  More racing.  More noise.  Finally I get up determined to throw them outside.

            I open the door, walk into the living room and turn on the lights.  All the cats are laying in chairs and look at me with eyes squinted as if I’ve just interrupted their deep sleep and the light is burning their retinas.  They yawn, stretch and preen a bit and then curl back up in a ball.  How can I throw them out when I have no proof that they did anything?  Maybe it was all in my head.  Maybe it was a dream.   I’m sure it’s not, but…

            So, back to bed I go.  I shut my eyes avoiding looking at the clock because I don’t want to know how much time I’ve lost and what little is left before I have to get up for work.  I drift away.  Somewhere in the hazy twilight of going to sleep and reaching the REM state, when my mind is at peace but not quite “gone,” my brain and body become aware of something that’s not right.  One of the cats has decided to become Ninja Fuzz and has flown through the air, the silence undetectable by any means whatsoever, and lands squarely on my chest.  Bam!  My brain screams “heart attack,” my chest screams “pressure, get it off,” and my arms instinctively fly at my chest to feel what’s going on. 

            Unaware that it is a cat, my hand immediately feels a fuzzy object and my chest feels sharp pinpoints of pain where Ninja Fuzz has anchored himself with his claws so as not to lose his grip.  The pain of course triggers an immediate response in my brain screaming “rip it off!”  I grab this thing and fling it out of desperation ripping chest hair and skin from my body in the process.  As fast as my brain registers this pain Ninja Fuzz is already airborne.  Half a second later a muffled thump hits the wall and the exhaled sound of a half-deflated “meow” reaches my ears.  Then the thud of him hitting the floor.  I hear scampering as he races through the house to hide and lick his wounds. Fully awake, I get up and go into the bathroom.  There, on my chest, are sixteen puncture marks all oozing blood.  Tiny rivulets run down my chest and coagulate.  I wash them and grit my teeth in pain as the soap cleans each hole left by my loving cat. 

            Checking the living room I find all the cats less one.  After a quick search of their favorite hiding places, I find Wounded Ninja Fuzz hiding underneath the table on top of a chair. He cowers, looks at me with apprehension and then crawls out, puffs his body up like an over sized cotton ball and rubs against my hand.  My anger subsides, Ninja Fuzz feels forgiven and he curls back up to sleep.  I go to bed, apprehensive, in pain and ready for sleep?

Cats

Sassy.  Curious, mischievous, sassy.

            Felines encompass all the qualities, both good and bad, of humans.  They are, in effect, tiny humans in fur form, or so they think.  Cross them and you pay.  Ignore them and you pay.  Fail to feed them and you pay.  Do anything they don’t agree with and you pay.

            Think about some of the traits a cat possesses, learns or instinctively emanates in their ten plus years of existence on the planet.  They have the ability to swear, to ignore, condescend, exude an air of self-righteousness, act psychotic, be spoiled, beg, manipulate, appear innocent, act cool, irritate, be revengeful, express evilness, love, blame others, get attention, act cute, kill, maim, torture, express gleefulness, act haughty and more.  Yet, we still love them, or at least many do. 

            There are those who view cats as villainous creatures that should be removed from existence.  On the other hand, there are many who love cats because they are able to express and exude the many aspects of the human psyche that humans themselves could not express without getting themselves hurt or killed.  When a cat does it, it may irritate, but most people still see them as lovable, fuzzy creatures, no matter what they do.

            Cats squeeze joy and extreme anger from humans with ease as if they were sponges.  A cat frolicking and flipping across a room raises peals of laughter from observers and at the same time their shredding a roll of toilet paper all over the bathroom floor brings out the murderous side of many a cat owner while the cat sits staring innocently outside the door, his muscles taut and ready to bolt. 

            I don’t know about you, but some days I love my cats and think they’re the greatest little creatures around.  Other days I am ready to skin them alive and bury their naked, furless bodies in a hole outside.  But, for some reason, they seem to have the ability to weasel their way back into my good graces, like a tick burrowing under my skin, only to be scrubbed and loved once again.