Month: November 2011

Last night I was getting in a workout on our elliptical trainer in the basement, when out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a commotion.  I turned to look and saw Elroy lunge behind our small overflow fridge and come back with a round, grey cat toy.  He seemed pretty excited about it, and for a second I thought nothing of it until I realized the cat toy was squeaking.  I leaped off the elliptical and, yelling my head off, went tearing after Elroy, who had run in to the unfinished part of the basement with his prize. 

I rounded the corner just in time to see Elroy drop his treasured spoils, and the spoils run under a garbage bag that had slipped out of its box onto the floor.  I yelled at Elroy some more to go upstairs (I know…yelling’s not productive, but Sean wasn’t there and I didn’t know how else to get him to go away), and tried to keep an eye on the other curious buddies who were now downstairs watching the show.  I could see the black garbage bag moving up and down rapidly as the little guy tried to catch his (or her) breath.  Finally, (s)he skittered out from under the bag and started making her way, rapidly but uncertainly, towards a safer destination.  (S)he found lots of things to hide under down there, but nothing seemed to be super-safe.  Then Elroy showed back up.  I diverted my attention for a second to get a bead on where he was, yelled at him again, then tried to locate the other cats.  

In the confusion, I lost the little mouse/mole/whatever it was.  I don’t know if it went behind the cabinets or scurried under the garage door to relative safety outside.  I’m hoping it was unharmed (it appeared to be) and heart-attack-free.  I stayed downstairs for a while longer just to monitor the situation, but all was quiet.  I know that cats are hunters by nature, and Elroy was just doing what his instinct tells him.  But as a dedicated animal-rights advocate and vegetarian, I just couldn’t stand by and watch while a little creature got tortured to death.  Even if Elroy had a blast doing it.  (Sorry, Elroy…)  Please join me in wishing the little guy luck, and a safe passage away from our scary brood!

Wanda has changed a lot since she was a young whippersnapper.  She’s gotten more calm–plays it safe more.  When she was a younger cat she would leap from our washing machine up to the top of the door leading out to the back porch and perch there, chirping happily when someone eventually went back to the utility room.  Her self-satisfied expression seemed to indicate that she was pretty darn proud of herself for making the leap successfully.  

Ditto for the times at our second house, when she would leap into the area above the cabinets in the kitchen.  Our house had very tall ceilings, and she would pride herself on making you do double- and triple-takes when you would hear Wanda barking at you from somewhere that was definitely above your head.  Up and up your eyes would swivel until you reached that point that seemed impossibly high, and there she would be, looking at you like she dared you to try to retrieve her.

Sometimes she set her sights not quite so high, aiming instead for the inside of the linen closet.  When she would jump in there and perch, we somehow accidentally came up with a new game, called “Quiet Wanda.”  It went like this:  Wanda would bark/chirp at you from the closet, and we would respond back in a whisper to her and say “Quiet Wanda…”  Not like a command, exactly.  More like a statement of fact that she then decided to take under consideration.  And consider it she did:  when you say “Quiet Wanda” to Wanda, she actually gets quiet.  She still chirps at you, but it’s more of a whisper.  Sometimes it comes out like a gentle little croak–like she’s putting a lot of effort into being quiet.  We discovered that we can do the same thing now, even if she’s not in the linen closet.  Sometimes she’s just under the covers, or on the bed, and if we say “Quiet Wanda” to her in a whisper, then she starts whispering back at us.  Maybe she was a librarian in a past life?  Only Wanda knows for certain, and she’s not tellin’.

One thing’s for sure, though–when you see that maniacal glint in Wanda’s eye and she’s looking around carefully for potential perches, it’s best to be paying attention.  Preferably looking up.

Once again, it’s necessary for me to bring some buddies into the blog who don’t actually live in our household.  They live in my heart, though, so that’s almost as good.  The world lost an incredibly gentle, loving, amazing Buddy this week.  Bella, the sweet mutt who befriended an African elephant at the elephant sanctuary in Tennessee, lost her life to an animal attack this week.  Bella and Tarra captured the imagination and won the hearts of the world after a breathtakingly beautiful segment on CBS News by journalist Steve Hartman (who has recently become one of my heroes for his pointedly pro-animal news segments and compassionate demeanor).  If you have not yet seen this story, do yourself a favor and watch it here, now:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cBtFTF2ii7U  

To quote Steve Hartman in this segment:  “They harbor no fears, no secrets, no prejudices. Just two living creatures who somehow managed to look past their immense differences.  Take a good look, America.  Take a good look, world.  If they can do it, what’s our excuse?”

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  anyone who doesn’t believe animals have emotions, or don’t love and accept love in return, or don’t show compassion and intelligence and kindness just aren’t paying attention.  Farewell, Sweet Bella.  May you rest in peace, and may you someday be reunited with your best friend, in whatever form that may take.  We will miss you.