Batavia—Where the Biggest Crime is Catnapping

Batavia—Where the Biggest Crime is Catnapping as a headline was too good for me to pass up. The Daily Herald reported this story the other day.

Seems a neighbor lady got fed up by Linus the cat doing catly things like killing birds and chipmunks. According to other neighbors, this female vigilante confessed to them that she had trapped Linus with a can of tuna and took him to a park for release.

Batavia’s deputy police chief said, “I can’t recall anything quite like this. We’ve had issues where pets come up missing, but this has a bit of a twist.”

Apparently this tension has been brewing ever since Linus moved into the neighborhood and his owner said someone had even posted a sign on their door warning them to keep the cat inside.

The catnapper will be arrested, but Linus is still missing.

The point of my post. I don't really know. Just struck me as an indication of how easily little things can get under a person's skin.

Internet Ads

While checking out www.dinesite.com to see local restaurant reviews, I noticed the banner ad at the top of the page was for Friskies’ cat food by Purina. Not wanting to “unlock a world of sensory delight” I skipped rolling over the ad in favor of reading about human food, which is what I wanted to find out about in the first place. Next I was treated to an ad from Marlo Thomas to “Please help St. Jude save her life,” referring to a young child at the hospital she helps with fundraising.

I think a little bit of targeting is needed here. In my own little blog, I signed up for Google ads and so far it’s been interesting to see what they assign to me. My post about Uncle Jim’s death brought an ad for onshore drilling. One day, I noticed one for stun guns. Still haven’t figured out that one. I guess I’m most happy to see ads for my Alma Mater, the University of Alabama. And those kitchen sinks.

Cats Rule

artwork from Colorful Joe

A favorite blogger of mine is also favored by several regular readers who are cats or at least they say they are. You never really know with bloggers. Miss Bee, or Auntie Bee to some of the felines, always has a picture of a kitty or two fashionably attired even though she is apparently catless herself.

So, today I explore the world of cat bloggers. If you think these are indeed miracle animals, you would be slightly wrong. To the uninformed, “beans” actually do the writing from the cat’s point of view. Some cat blogs have wonderful photos of cats in various stages of dress and undress. Where do these outfits come from?

Some of the kitties recount attempted escapes and trips to the vet for “hoo ha” surgery. But they are not about cats from a human perspective. They are about humans from a cat’s perspective. And let me tell you, we humans are real strange characters.

I can appreciate now how come I took adult first place in “Through the Cat’s Eye,” a juried art competition fundraiser last spring for the local humane society. My folk-style painting of Butch apparently wowed the judges who must have been as loopy as Paula Abdul on American Idol. I understand now that people love a cat with an attitude, and Butch surely had that. He didn’t take any crap from anyone. He was too much cat for our family, which 19 years later we realized. Now perhaps all cats do go to heaven but then there's Butch.

Recommended cat blogs:

Daisy the Curly Cat
Daisy has a devoted group of regulars, and some days there are over 70 comments, which is no small feat for the best of two-legged bloggers and even more outstanding for the four-pawed pundits. Daisy recently blogged about discovering that her tiara was plastic. Oh the disappointments a girl suffers!

Meezer Tails
Two gorgeous Siamese cats. For some reason, Siamese cats are quite vocal bloggers. I've been acquainted with two of these lovely cats in my life and both had a hard time being discrete with their opinions.

Skeezix’s Scratching Post

Okay, Now I Really, Really Did Win Something

Just last week with tongue in cheek, I posted about winning one of those infernal E-mail Yahoo-account-cloggin’ contests. I think y’all knew I was kidding, didn’t you?

Yesterday, the lady from the Montgomery Humane Society called me up to let me know I’d won first place in the “Through the Cat’s Eye” contest that they were putting on as a silent auction fundraiser. I had to ask her to repeat what she said for I hardly call my painting style “art.” It’s painting. But painting the bathroom is also painting and I don’t call that “art."

I’ve been doing a lot more painting of the bathroom kind lately, and “Butch,” as I dubbed my work, was actually completed a couple of years ago. What with getting ready to move and all, I thought he needed a home. When I saw the call for entries article in the local paper, I said, “I’m taking ‘Butch’ to the Humane Society.” And that dear gentle readers, is how I actually won 1st place at a juried art show.

Scotty and I walked onto the hallowed grounds of the Montgomery Country Club, my first and probably last time there, to attend the reception. Visions of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald and grand parties of the Jazz Age entered my head. These icons of that decadent period met at a dance at the Montgomery Country Club while Fitzgerald was stationed at nearby Camp Sheridan. They even lived in Montgomery for a few months when they weren’t gallivanting around the world with the likes of Ernest Hemingway.

It was a pleasant evening. I collected my little check and looked at the other entries (none like my folk art) and went home with the knowledge that the old cat was good for something after all.

P.S. Butch was a real cat. Bill and I acquired him while living on 13th St. in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. We were University of Alabama college students at the time, and Butch became a part of us that we couldn't or wouldn't let go of even though there was no real reason to keep him around. He was too ornery to foist off onto someone else, even a cat lady.

He'd jump out and scratch Bill and hide under the bed when Bill chased him with a broom. When little Jeff tried to pet Butch, Butch gave him a scar that he still sports on his face. Butch wasn't a lap cat, didn't catch mice, ate and pooped like cats do and for the life of me, I can't imagine why we kept him around. He was too mean to die and lived until he was 19 years old. I'm convinced he's in the equivalent of where bad people go. Well, if you are sentimental, maybe all cats do go to heaven. But he had an attitude. "You pull my tail, kid, I'm gonna get you." Maybe that's why we tolerated each other.

When It’s Time to Let Go

This story out of Idaho captured my attention today. A ‘berserk’ house cat attacked it’s owner sending her to the hospital by ambulance with over 20 bite wounds according to the AP. Apparently the cat attacked his owner after she answered the door to a neighbor holding another cat that she thought was the woman’s. “I think the owner said she was going to take it to the shelter because that's not the first time she’s been attacked,” said the assistant fire chief.

I guess I can understand the woman wanting to give the cat another chance. We once had a black and white hellcat named Butch that we kept for nearly 20 years. I think his meanness fueled his longivity. As a kitten, he would attack Bill and then dash under the bed before Bill could find the broom to chase him. When son one was a toddler, Butch gave him a scratch that left a facial scar. Butch was taken to the vet and declawed after that. The vet said, "We don't normally declaw a cat this old." Butch remained a household fixture but never was he the loving fat kitty that makes a good pet.

I think the lady in Idaho made the right decision.

With Two Cats in the Yard

Our house, is a very, very, very fine house.
With two cats in the yard,
Life used to be so hard,
Now everything is easy ‘cause of you.

Our House by Crosby, Stills & Nash

For some reason I’ve had several cat visitors to my yard lately. My neighbors probably think I’m nuts. Well, I happen to love black and white animals and this little kitty was too pretty not to photograph. The fat gray with the sweet meow was content to rest under a bush.


Visitor cats love to leave dusty footprints on freshly washed cars, but that’s about all the harm they do. Plus, another less skittish gray will let me pet it. Nice. No litter box or smelly tins of food to open.