I have to warn you I’m writing this on 5 hours sleep over 2 days. I’m not a great sleeper since the wickedly strong grip of menopause found me. Also, I just returned from Greece on an animal welfare mission. So between that and jet lag, I barely remember my name.
Normally, I try to inject a bit of humor in my posts but this one may be different. One thing I know: it’s hard to find anything amusing when animals are suffering. I‘m just saying. But I promise our journey in Greece ends on an upbeat note. Don’t worry, you won’t be crying into your Sunday morning coffee as you read this.
I was glad it was Mother’s Day last Sunday because I knew I’d be running a prior Mom’s Day post, thereby not needing to actually write. What a relief.
Lately I’m so busy I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. That saying has some truth to it. I’m decent at multitasking but this is getting ridiculous. (And I’m not even due to write my Things I Find Ridiculous column.)
Preparing for our animal spay/neuter mission in Mykonos, Greece next week has been time consuming but I’ve also been attempting (rather pitifully) to plant some annuals and power wash my patio.
The weird thing is, it’s an actual cat. No surprise I guess, as I’m assuming the saying originated when someone astute recognized that kittens tend to copy their mothers. Hold on while I google that. Okay, I’m back. Turns out the earliest reference to copycat was in 1887 with no mention of felines. After that it gets too boring for words, so Iet’s move along.
My copycat happens to be my cat Tippi, so named because her tipped ear is severe. Seems ever since I adopted the ever-entertaining Jack a few months ago, Tippi’s personality has changed. And not, might I add, for the worse.
I trapped Tippi in a feral colony 2 1/2 years ago in the small farming and ranching community of Valley Ford. Tippi and her 21 assorted siblings were born under the grocery store. Thankfully, the store owners asked us (Marin Friends of Ferals) to have them spayed/neutered before she had 41 siblings. Long story short, I ended up keeping Tippi after realizing she was a tweener – not adoptable at the shelter yet not feral enough to be content living under the market.
Jack, my recently adopted 4th cat, will be my last. I won’t be guardian to more felines until one of mine goes over the Rainbow Bridge. And it’s not because I’m afraid of being a crazy cat lady. That boat sailed a while ago.
No, the reason I’m stopping after Jack is because, well, you don’t know Jack. And as it turns out, I didn’t either. Now don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t change my decision to add Jack to my animal family. It’s just that the more I get to know him, his true personality emerges. Need I say more? (Well actually, yes, or I won’t have a blog post today.) Continue reading →
Everyone knows I have a slew of animals. Does seven make a slew?
Anyway, when I looked around the other day, I realized how much my pets impact my life, both good and bad. They’re my furry family. Yep, I have an animal house and I love every minute. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.
Four of my seven
Let’s just say I’ve had to make compromises for having dogs, Nellie, Callie and Skip and cats, Oliver, Savannah, Tippi and Jack. I can’t expect my nice things to stay nice, so my furniture is often covered like a winterized beach home. I have tables with embedded teeth marks and a backyard with a hole almost deep enough to bury a Mini Cooper, courtesy of Nellie. Continue reading →