Vandals Cut McGonnigle’s Whiskers!

I stopped by my parents’ house on the way home from work and while I’m there, I like to see McGonnigle, the cat, if I can.  He enjoys the scratchies that I give him and usually rolls on the ground for them.  It’s great.  He’s a good cat–always glad to see me and it is nice because it kind of bothers me that I can’t have him where I live; but I understand that he’s most happy where he is.

Anyway, today, I immediately notice that his left whiskers are short.  A few inches has been taken off the ends, as if someone took a scissor to them.  Male Maine Coons have incredble, long whiskers, so they are not close cropped, but clearly, they are altered.

I went in the house and told my mother that the cat’s whiskers were cut, I thought, and she said that yes, Pumpkin’s whiskers were cut.  “I’m talking about McGonnigle, not Pumpkin”, I said.

“Oh, McGonnigle’s too?!”, she asked.

So we have the two cats there and both of their left side whiskers have been cut by humans, apparently and we are annoyed, shocked, scared, disturbed, puzzled, you name it.  WHO would do such a dopey thing?  Who would cut a cat’s whiskers?  Kids?  I hope so, because when they get bored, they’ll move on to some other dopey pursuit.  A deranged neighbor?  Disgruntled?  One who thinks that the big male, McGonnigle, is beating on their darling cat?  Hmm…dunno.

Pumpkin is an old female Manx and we could see her getting fooled into holding still, but the trouble is, she doesn’t go more than 50 yards from their house!  McGonnigle, on the other hand, goes up to a quarter mile away, as male cats do, but he is soooo careful and circmspect, that we are just beside ourselves to think that someone could fool him into holding still for the cutting.  Chances are, he put up a fuss, and that’s why Pumpkin’s whiskers are cut close and McGonnigle’s are not so close.

If I saw someone hurting McGonnigle, I do not know how much control I could muster.  Hopefully, Gonnigle is now on the alert and will not be fooled again.

If anyone knows of any kind of ritual, or kids’ scavenger hunt or dare contest that might involve this, leave a comment.  At least then, we would have a compass to judge this by.  Thanks.  Fog

The Last Thing A Mouse Sees

This is McGonnigle, the cat some years ago.  I was going through the archives for prints for the new art website and came across this.  He is mostly Maine Coon but I have no papers.  The Maine Coon post I did on the rag a year ago, is getting 300 hits per day and drawing comments from all over the world–amazing legs, that post.  So here’s another one.  Gonnicle (as I call him), has a strange property.  Certain whiskers of his grow in different colors.  Sometimes white and then they cut over and turn black and the back to white again.  The largest whisker at the top left in the photo (Gonnicle’s right) exhibits this behavior.

Although he is orange all the way, there are a few black spots inside his mouth.  When he was a kitten and before his stripper mom, who lived in the apartment next door to me, abandoned him, I saw his brother who was completely silver.  I believe that a dame can have a litter of kittens from two (or more) different Toms.  So it’s possible that Gonnicle had a different father than the other cat.  Anyway, now I’m confused.  The point is, his whiskers grow in changing colors–kind of like John McCain’s “Conservatism”–it changes when it’s convienient.  Scientifically, I’m not sure what is going on but I think you would have cells coding for proteins that look white and make up the whisker, and then BAM!, they all switch over to coding for different proteins so that the whisker is then growing out black.  Later on, like McCain, they switch back to white.  Go figure.  Is there a molecular biologist in the house?  Or maybe just Roger Clemens’ lawyers?  They seem to know alot of medical stuff right from the git-go.

In an unrelated note, Curt Schilling’s blog will be renamed this year to 38stitches (I wanted to be the first to get that out there…).  Good luck Curt.  Thanks for the bloody sock and moiderin dose Yanks. 

Rusty can do stuff too, you know

This story was emailed to me and some had heard of it, so it obviously made the rounds recently. It concerns a cat in a nursing home that sits with patients who will expire within 4 hours. The accuracy of the cat is stunning. The question is, why?

Overstimulation

I really like the Clarinet (Bassinet) that Mrs. Pinetar bought (or was given) for the Tomster. It has these little controls on the side and it will play a little music (something they played at our wedding but I didn’t know that-was told) and it has a little “activity center” for Tommy’s “activity time”.

Anyway, it has these bears that hang on a little dry-cleaning rack and you press a button and the bears spin around over Tommy.

But you have to swing it into position first.

 So I’m admiring the thing and we put him down and I swing the thing into position and Mrs. Pinetar says, “…Wait! You can’t do that yet.”

“Why?”, I say.

“You’ll overstimulate him. It’s too much for him”, She replied.

“Oh”, I said.

How cute is it, that the three little flying stuffed bears will overstimulate him?

***

This clarinet has one other thing that I really, really love. The vibration button. You can even adjust the frequency (although not as low as I would like, but I’ll take it). It is like Tommy is at the belly of a big cat that is purring. It’s very soothing and pacifying.

There is some newer research that indicates that the vibrations that cats produce is very, very healing and beneficial to the cats themselves. They actually have been shown to HEAL faster from wounds for purring. This is verifiable data, not the global warming hooey that you see on CNN.

I went through a phase a few years ago where I read anything I could get my hands on re ‘after death experiences’ or, NDE (Near Death Experiences). They have gone on for all history but are more prevalent now due to advancing medical technology (the same amazing medical discovery and technology that Al Gore and Hillary say isn’t fair and needs to be curtailed by government intervention). What’s even more true today is that with medical tech being what it is, people are simply more inclined to entertain the POSSIBILITY that these folks come by some information that they really don’t or shouldn’t have access to, if you discount the “experience”.

The books are fascinating reading and they make you think plenty, especially about some of our downright silly religious customs and institutionalized hokum. The book, “Embraced by the Light” by Betty J. Eadie, is by far, the best book I’ve ever read in my life. I’ve read it over 10 times and it has influenced me far more than any other book, no question. There is a bookend book to it that is also amazing: “Beyond the Darkness” by Angie Fenimore. They compliment each other and should be read together, and read in the order listed. They are quite different so don’t assume…

Anyway, in the dozens of books I’ve read on this topic, one of the things that strikes you about these experiences is their diversity. All are different and highly personal. However, there are still many similarities. One is that many of these folks report on the “music” or “vibrations” that run through and permeate EVERYTHING on the spiritual side. Everything vibrates and resonates and all things are in vibrational/musical harmony “over there”. In this other dimension, these vibrations are described as “healing” and “loving” and “containing great intelligence”.

It is interesting that we are finding out that cats’ purring heals wounds. I predict that in the future, more money and effort will be spent looking into the effect of vibrations on living tissue. I don’t think enough is being done but the vibration gizmo on the clarinet is a good start.

***

We had Tommy outside a lot yesterday and like rookie parents, got him a little too warm in his fleece swaddling blanket. But on day 4, the jaundice is at maximun, so I insisted that we get him some light (indirect) to break down that bad old Billy Rueben. I also decided it was time to fly the Bunker Hill flag. You don’t see many outside of New England.

And this morning he was opening his eyes more than usual. I used a no-flash setting and it was dark so don’t worry about his color there. He is looking great. It’s just hard to get him to open the eyes. A lot of the time, he just opens one eye. It’s funny to see him fall off the feeding spout and then get mad. Unfortunately, it’s a family trait to quickly get pretty mad at something very simple in the scheme of things. Oh well.

We are baptizing him at about 1 month. This shocked the church down the street. They grilled my wife about it. That’s how it was done in the old days (25 years ago and before) but now it is wigging them out. Almost any time I have “official dealings” of any sort with a member of the church, I walk away shaking my head. I’m trying.

Since Mrs. Pinetar may not be able to make the baptism class, I will have to go alone. I told Mrs. Pinetar, “…wait until they get a load of me…”

And she basically said, “Don’t get excommunicated again!”

And that would be the second time this year! The odds on excommunication are currently running about 7-1. We’ll see.

***

For the record, Julio Franco is now 1 for 12 with the Atlanta Braves. I’ll say it again: Somewhere out there, there is a golf-course missing a guy. –fog

McGonnigle Meets Tommy!

This is the exact instant that McGonnigle the cat, met Tommy. McGonnigle took it well. Just like in this photo actually.  I think he was hungry and was just looking for some food so he was hanging around the kitchen.

Below is our “Meet the Beatles”, half light, half shadow effort. He’s almost twice as old as yesterday’s photos and he hasn’t cut up at all really. He did have his procedure yesterday and they tell us that that will make him sleepy and it sure seemed to but today, he is pretty calm as well. He’s home now and we are showing him the house. He likes it. So far, he likes to hang around wherever there are breasts. –fog

Getting the Belly

Mrs. Pinetar is afraid of McGonnigle, the cat. Not really afraid but she thinks he doesn’t like her and is wary of him. He has nipped at her hand in the past, apparently.

 

Today, I showed her that when he is nice and sleepy, he will be good and he purred for her and he even rolled over and “gave the belly”, or, felt comfortable enough to roll on his back for belly scratches.

 

She said, “yea, he gave the belly for YOU! He wouldn’t do that for me”

 

I said, “…you have to do it right. You have to approach slowly and let him smell your hand for a while, because that’s how he identifies you and assesses threat level. Then, you start with safe scratchies that he likes and keep doing that until he trusts you more and more and then slowly work the scratchies under him and he’ll just flip over and stretch and give you the belly.”

 

She said, “yea, sure, that works for you…”

 

–fog

Dried Hetero Flower Arrangements

Ok, here it is. THIS is the dried flower arrangement that I cut myself by the side of the road last Fall (while the 200+ million dollar Yankees were losing to the Detroit Tigers). I cut some punks (to dry out and burn on the porch) and then thought, “…hey, they could go in a vase”, and then the next day, I cut some more and grabbed some cat tails to see if I could pull the whole look together. See how I did. Now, is this so bad?

You know, not only are they free, but we get to enjoy them as decor and then set them on fire for entertainment in the summer. Where’s the downside?

–fog

See, here’s McGonnigle’s tail. Maybe this is why I think the Phragmites are called “Cat tails”?

McGonnigle the Cat, Is Hobbled

McGonnigle the cat had to go to the cat doctor yesterday. It seems he had been fighting and got bitten on the left heel, right at the joint. The wound festered and an abcess developed. He was operated on and is home now at my parents, hiding under the bed and isn’t eating or drinking much, although last night, he was glad to see me and purred everytime I looked under the bed. If he’s purring, he can’t be in that bad a shape, right?

They had to put him out to shave and drain and dress the wound and that makes me nervous. I knew a girl who was a vet tech in Smyrna, Delaware and she said that the amount of anesthesia that they give is really only a guess based on the critter’s weight and a table that they have.

One time, she overdosed a little dog and he died on the table there and she was crying and carrying on and then, like magic, he came back to life and was fine. I think they were doing something fairly routine like maybe even a teeth-cleaning. The people picked up fido and never knew that only an hour before, he was flying up the tunnel and hearing the beautiful music.

Those stories made me think, “…don’t let them put Gonnicle under unless it’s absolutely necessary”. And that’s what we try to do.

So he’s recuperating and at least there’s no lampshade. I remember we had a cat that had the lampshade and he just ran around the house for days running the lampshade against the wall and ramming it into the door frames to try and rip it loose. The worst part of the animal getting hurt is that they don’t understand anything that’s happening. Gonnicle just wants to go out and mouse and bird and go bunnyhunting. And some will write and tell me that he shouldn’t be outside at all but really, he loves it so much outside that I can’t deny him. That’s where he is a real cat. You can just see it. That’s why, when I moved out of my apartment, I gave him to my parents because they have the land and woods that he loves and with me, he can’t have that here. I’d rather he live 5 years as a full cat than 15 years as an indoor stuffed animal. –fog