Black Cats

Happy Halloween! So many people think of black cats as part of Halloween, but here's more of the scoop on them, courtesy of about.com:cats. Black cats have taken a bad rap throughout history. Greek mythology taught that a woman named Galenthias was turned into a cat and became a priestess at the temple of Hecate, the "Dark Mother," and sometimes known as the Mother of Witchcraft. During the 12th and 13th century, witches in Europe were often found with their "familiars," usually black cats, and were said to turn themselves into cats at times. During the witch-burning era of the 17th century, witches' cats were put into baskets and burned alongside the witches. Even in the 21st century, old superstitions have survived. In many European countries and in the U.S., black cats signify bad luck, while in England, your luck is said to turn good if a black cat crosses your path.

Chicken Livers Yum Yum

My husband grew up on the second level of an attached house in Bayside with a male Siamese cat named Koko. Well, every day that second level stunk from Steve's mother cooking chicken livers for the cat. Despite the smell, Koko loved the livers, and he lived to a ripe old age of 16. According to Wiki, cats are classified as obligate carnivores, predominantly because their physiology is geared toward efficient processing of meat, and lacks efficient processes for digesting plant matter. Similarly as with its teeth, a cat's digestive tract has become specialized over time to suit meat eating, having shortened in length only to those segments of intestine best able to break down proteins and fats from animal flesh. The trait severely limits the cat's ability properly to digest, metabolize, and absorb plant-derived nutrients, as well as certain fatty acids. For example, taurine is scarce in plants but abundant in meats. It is a key amino sulfonic acid for eye health in cats. Taurine deficiency can cause a condition called macular degeneration wherein the cat's retina slowly degenerates, eventually causing irreversible blindness.
Despite the cat's meat-oriented physiology, it is still quite common for a cat to supplement its carnivorous diet with small amounts of grass, leaves, shrubs, houseplants, or other plant matter anyway. One theory suggests this behavior helps cats regurgitate if their digestion is upset; another is that it introduces fiber or trace minerals into the diet. I know that when Gigi goes out to gnaw on grass and other miscellaneous plants, she makes that lovely choking sound when she comes inside, which perhaps is her way of soothing her digestive system.

Cat Naps

I know the temperature is going to drop at night when Gigi moves from her princess pillow on the windowsill and settles down in the middle of our bed. When I gently pull her along with the blanket she's sleeping on down toward the end of the bed (so I can get into bed) she shows her annoyance by jumping up and leaving the room. Less than five minutes later though she's back. I feel the light pounce back up onto the bed and then I can hear and feel her movements as she scrubs herself clean before tuck-in. According to wiki, cats conserve energy by sleeping more than most animals, especially as they grow older. The daily duration of sleep varies, usually 12–16 hours, with 13–14 being the average. Some cats can sleep as much as 20 hours in a 24-hour period. The term cat nap refers to the cat's ability to fall asleep (lightly) for a brief period and has entered the English lexicon – someone who nods off for a few minutes is said to be "taking a cat nap".

Strings and things

Gigi, like many cats, has always been fascinated with batting any strings, bathrobe ties, and ribbons that we dangle in front of her. She is usually easy to lure into 'play' mode. Lately, though, late at night, some time about 1 a.m. I hear her walking down the stairs and then standing in the hallway meowing loudly. In the morning I find a pile of scattered pieces of clothing -- all with strings of some kind (sweat pants, bikini tops, bras) -- that Gigi has dragged downstairs from my daughter's room to use as her playthings. She carries them down in her mouth and then meows for us to come play with her. Oh yes, 1 a.m. is a great time for me to jump out of bed to play with Gigi and the bras.

Cats and Corn

Let us continue our history lesson of the cat, thanks to Gloria Stephens' Legacy of the Cat. The cat eventually became so valuable in England that in 939 A.D. a kitten was paid for even before it opened its eyes. Once the kitten was old enough to catch mice, the price doubled. Anyone found guilty of killing a cat had to pay its worth in corn, measured by holding the dead animal by the tip of its tail, so that the nose touched the ground. Grain was then poured over it until the whole body was completely covered.

To Claw or Not to Declaw

No one could ever convince me to declaw a cat. It leaves a cat defenseless and vulnerable and strips them of their natural power to survive. However, in this country, many cat owners do have their cats declawed. The vet told us we could trim Gigi's nails with a regular nail clipper, and from time to time we do. She likes the attention and acts like she's in a nail salon. Anyway, here's the lowdown on declawing from Wikipedia: Declawing is a major surgery known as onychectomy, performed under anesthesia, which removes the tip of each digit (from the first knuckle out) of the cat's forepaws (and rarely the hind paws). The primary reason for declawing cats is to prevent them from damaging furniture; in the United States, some landlords may require that tenants' cats be declawed. Rarely, vicious cats, cats that frequently fight with other pets, or cats that are too efficient at predation of songbirds etc. are declawed. This controversial procedure is uncommon outside of North America, and is prohibited by animal cruelty laws in many countries worldwide. An alternative to declawing is the application of blunt, vinyl nail caps that are affixed to the claws with nontoxic glue, requiring periodic replacement when the cat sheds its claw sheaths (about every four to six weeks). However, the cat will still experience difficulties because the capped nails are not as effective as claws.

Jumping Gigi

Gigi loves to jump up onto high shelves and survey us from above. She can jump more than about six feet and make it look easy. According to Wikipedia, most breeds of cat have a noted fondness for settling in high places, or perching. Animal behaviorists have posited a number of explanations, the most common being that height gives the cat a better observation point, allowing it to survey its "territory" and become aware of activities of people and other pets in the area. In the wild, a higher place may serve as a concealed site from which to hunt; domestic cats are known to strike prey by pouncing from such a perch as a tree branch, as does a leopard. (Not true for Gigi, her 'attack' pose is definitely crouched low on the ground.) Height can also give cats a sense of security and prestige. According to Wikipedia, during a fall from a high place, a cat can reflexively twist its body and right itself using its acute sense of balance and flexibility. This is known as the cat's "righting reflex". It always rights itself in the same way, provided it has the time to do so, during a fall. The height required for this to occur in most cats (safely) is around 3 feet (90 cm). To achieve this, cats probably relax their ventral muscles, "flattening" their bodies to some extent and creating more resistance to air. However, cats' fondness for high spaces can dangerously test the righting reflex. The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals warns owners to safeguard the more dangerous perches in their homes, to avoid "high-rise syndrome", where an overconfident cat falls from an extreme height.

Migration from Asia onward

As we continue our history lesson of the cat, thanks again to Gloria Stephens for her book, Legacy of the Cat. From Egypt, the little African bush cat became established in China and India in the semi-wild state. Trade evidently later brought the cat to Italy. The Greeks acquired cats from the Egyptians; the seafaring Phoenicians carried cats on board with them to various part of their world. It may have been by this means that Britain acquired cats; the Romans, also, brought cats with them to Britain. Cats were needed, as always, to keep rodents in check. On a more mundane note, I bought canned cat food from Trader Joes that Gigi is going wild over. It's called Tuna for Cats, and I believe it costs approximately 33 cents a can. Enjoy.

Mummified Cats

Cats were so loved by the Egyptians that when a cat died, it was mummified by rubbing the body with precious oils and wrapping it in layers of cloth. It was taken to a special cemetery where the family would beat gongs and shave off their eyebrows as a sign of mourning. In the 20th century, such a cemetery, containing over three hundred thousand mummified cats was discovered at Beni Hassan. In 1907, 190 skulls were presented to the British Museum; most of these skull represented a particular group of cats, a form of the small African bush cat, which had a tabby body, rings on the tail and the "beetle" or scarab mark between the ears. (Credit to Gloria Stephens, author of Legacy of the Cat)

Isis and Bastet

In "Legacy of the Cat" Gloria Stephens writes that cats were worshipped in Egypt for more than two thousand years. At first the cat was considered sacred only to the goddess Isis. It later became sacred to the great cat goddess Bastet. Indeed, the earliest portrayals of Bastet showed her as a cat-headed figure. Gradually Bastet became the most important god to all Egyptians, and the cat was held sacred and worshipped with her. The Egyptian word for cat is 'mau' which means "to see."

Cats in Ancient Egypt

I'm studying for a test on The Great Alexandrian Library that was built in Egypt 1600 years ago, and I wonder if cats roamed around the premises there. According to Gloria Stephens, in her book "Legacy of a Cat" the first domestication of the cat was recorded in Egyptian times, get this-- five thousand years ago! She writes that domestication could have taken place in other places at other times, but we don't have documentation other than the Egyptian paintings, dating to 2000 B.C., showing cats in what appears to be "friendly rapport with humans." From 2000 B.C., evidence shows that cats were plentiful in Egypt, well cared for, trained to hunt wild birds and to fish, and were valued for keeping the rodent population under control. They were valued so highly that laws were passed to protect cats from harm. To be continued. . .

My Shadow

Growing up, I don't remember our cats being the constant companion that Gigi is. It seems that whatever room I'm in, she appears seconds later. As a matter of fact, I don't even notice when she comes in. It's more like I look up and--she's just there. I move from the kitchen to the dining room and to the office where I work, and Gigi is like my shadow. She's interested in the newspaper and what I'm eating, and she stands still as a statue watching me wash dishes. I haven't figured out if its the steam from the hot water or the soap bubbles that interest her. Once I've finished the dishes, she likes to step daintily into the kitchen sink and sit there for awhile. It's like her personal spa area, warm and clean and soothing. When I'm in the bathroom, if I don't open the bathroom door when she scratches at it, one paw comes under the door, an invitation to play. It's late at night when everyone else is asleep that I appreciate my shadow. Whether I'm putting out the garbage or throwing in some laundry, there's my little friend, following me about, interested in the task at hand, and keeping me amused by her actions.

Custom Made Scratching Post

We ordered a beautiful new armchair for our livingroom. The style is traditional and the fabric is classic and luxurious and lots of money per yard. It's fun to wait for new furniture to arrive, and probably 10 weeks after we placed the order the new chair was delivered. I was thrilled to have a comfortable chair next to the fireplace for reading and relaxing. Early one morning my husband discovered that Gigi liked the new chair, too. She liked that way her claws felt digging into the rich fabric. On the back of the chair he showed me where she had started using the chair as a scratching post. Don't misunderstand--Gigi has a 'real' scratching post from our local pet place that she uses all the time. We tried spraying the chair with a cat repellent that's supposed to keep them away. Then my husband decided we had to drape a quilt over the back of the chair to keep her off of it. A quilt? The colors in the quilt and chair clash, and in my opinion, the quilt wouldn't do anything. It's a mental game. But the quilt's been there for months now. Last week I caught Gigi under the quilt preparing to use the chair for scratching. I clapped my hands loudly to startle her away, and she hid underneath the chair for a big 10 seconds looking at me with the expression of 'you're a lunatic, but I'll appease you since you feed me.' Good thinking Gigi.

Batters up

When a young child is misbehaving, sometimes what they're doing is actually funny. In those cases, as a parent, I would try not to laugh in front of the child. In Gigi's case, her misbehavior is her way of getting our attention. One of her most effective behaviors that gets our attention is when she bats at our indoor plants with her paw. It is actually funny to watch. She sits just beside the plant, looks up at us, and methodically bats at the leaves, while we scold her and tell her to "Stop!!" Our scolding tone doesn't matter. Gigi continues to bat away until she gets what she wants--more food or the chance to go outside or be picked up and petted. I'm amused by her understanding that batting the plants gets us to take action, and proud of the fact that she's smart enough to know that.

Goldfish on Prime Time

We went to a close friend's daughter's Bat Mitzvah on Saturday morning down in New Jersey. Since my son had the honor of holding the Torah, and since it was a 9 a.m. service, and since there's no telling what traffic will be like on the Cross Bronx Expressway, we headed down to NJ on Friday night, where we met friends for dinner, and stayed at the Hanover Marriott. Of course I brought my GSLIS 700 notes and text to study!! The service was held in the temple we were members of before our move to New York. It was nice to see familiar faces, and even Rabbi Rossoff came over to us to say hello. It's strange to move away after you've put down roots for 15 years, and then come back to see that everyone's lives have continued as always. The Bat Mitzvah was over by 10:30 and we headed back to the Marriott for the festivities. I wasn't ready to imbibe that early, but I had orange juice with seltzer and snacked on the appetizers during the cocktail hour. The doors to the ballroom opened an hour or so later, and the DJ was already screaming into his microphone and the dancers were getting the kids out on the floor. The theme of the decorations was the beach, and every table had been named for a different beach, like Sandy Hook, Jones Beach, Cape Cod. There were huge fish-shaped balloons, flip flops and beach toys galore, and the table centerpieces were huge round glass bowls filled with live goldfish! Whoa. Somehow, at the end of the afternoon, I found myself in the front seat of the car with a saran wrapped fish bowl between my feet. Thirty or more goldfish got added to the 20-gallon tank in my son's room, where two zebra fish had peacefully co-existed for the past 2 years. Suddenly, the fish tank was like a magnet for Gigi. After circling the tank and knocking everything off the dresser in the process, she plopped herself down and watched the tank like she was watching tv. We could not distract her from her show. I guess it's a healthy break from watching the birdfeeder.

Ketzel vs Ketzela

Is it easier to inherit a cat that already has been named than to choose a name? That depends. . . for me it’s never easy to name anything that will become part of my life forever. It was easy with Giselle because my sister had named her before we took her home. She chose the name Giselle because she reminded my sister of a ballet dancer, with long legs and a delicate pointy face. Growing up, my parents named one of our cats Ketzel, which is Yiddish for ‘little cat’. Ketzel wasn’t so little. He grew into a large proud male, who taught me how to play-fight with him. He’d pounce on the sheets as I made my bed, and give me surprise attacks from time to time. He didn’t hesitate to use his claws up and down my arms. Gigi is more refined when we ‘fight’— because she knows not to use her claws—and this I attribute to that age old truth about females being evolved beyond the coarser instincts of males.

Dumb Bunny

When Gigi first entered our household, we still had Libby, our lagomorph. Libby was a nervous bunny who mostly stayed in her cage, and occasionally went out in the backyard in a harness and tentatively sniffed and hopped around. Libby convinced me that I would never, ever, under any circumstances have a caged pet again. When Gigi sniffed at Libby’s cage, and turned to look at us, I immediately understood where the expression “dumb bunny” must originate. Libby had a blank stare compared to Gigi, whose face has so many expressions emanating and amusing us from second to second. So, Gigi became top dog, and although we tried to be kind and tolerate Libby, she suddenly seemed completely uninteresting.

Birds and Brooms

When we first brought Gigi home to New Jersey, all of us were fearful that if she went outside she would get lost, or hit by a car. At that time she was so scrawny you could count the bumps on her spine. There was a wooded area behind the house and birdfeeders in the back yard. Being married to an avid birder means I read lots of newsletters from the local Audubon Society, and that meant that I knew their policy on letting cats roam free: don’t do it. And so we’d let Gigi out for a few minutes, and then we’d start whistling for her and calling her name—and she’d come back. One morning I was on the phone, talking to the guidance counselor at the elementary school. Gigi was just outside the door, sunning peacefully on the deck. As I talked, I heard a commotion outside—a flutter of feathers and a strange sound coming from Gigi. I was about to open the screen, when I saw that Gigi had brought me a present—a bird, very much alive, was in her mouth. I grabbed the kitchen broom, opened the screen and swooshed it in her face until she dropped the bird and, thankfully, the bird flew away. Gigi looked confused. What amazes me to this day is that I stayed on the phone through the whole ordeal. That was the last time Gigi ever caught a bird. Here in New York Gigi constantly watches the backyard birdfeeder. Her tail moves back and forth as she crouches, in the huntress position. It’s been three years, and I don’t think that Gigi has any real intention of catching anything. The fun is in the dream.