Furbelow?

FURbelow -- or FURbehind me? Which is to say, hasn't anyone ever thought of what to do with cat fluff brushed out (or deposited on rugs and furniture) in summertime? I'm sure thinking about it! Harry, our long-haired orange tabby, is most generous with fur and fluff, even though, weirdly to me, he usually doesn't like to be brushed or combed.

Here's still another new-business suggestion for some entrepreneur: Why not pillows filled with soft cat-hair? Sure, it would probably have to be cleaned in some way before becoming stuffing, but . . . that way, it could stay in the family! Much as I love ridding Harry of what I think must itch him and feel hot and heavy, I also hate to just throw out what I then remove from brushes and combs -- and rugs and ottomans and chairs!

Alpaca fur is touted as soft and warm. Isn't cat hair the same?

Which brings us to Billy, our shorthaired black and white baby. Though he too sheds in spring-summer, and I brush/comb him too, his hair isn't at all as soft as Harry's. Maybe it could be processed somehow. Or maybe only longhairs' hair should be considered for pillows. Who knows?
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Baby Bunnies

For the last few days, I haven’t been able to lose this image: a tiny baby bunny – looking smaller than my fist in length – was running along the curving curb (in the road!) as we drove down an entrance to Rt. 295. Clearly, this baby had either fallen off the curb or been curious enough to jump down. Then, s/he probably couldn’t get back up onto the curb, then the grass and then (I hope) mama bunny somewhere nearby in the underbrush.

We quickly drove to the nearest exit, took it up to Rt. 206 again, then back down that curve to 295. All the while, I was planning how to stop the car, put the blinkers on and grab the baby (ha! as if s/he would have allowed me near), walk a few feet with her to safety and put her down.

Well, it never happened. As we drove down the ramp the second time, there was no bunny of any size, alive or dead, in sight. We decided to be glad, and probably should have been, because a potentially hazardous driving situation had been avoided. We could only hope the bunny had somehow leaped up onto the curb again and been seized by mom.

Earlier today we rode our bicycles out of Village Park on the Lawrence-Hopewell trail and turned right in our great circle route. Suddenly, a baby bunny sped out of the roadside undergrowth, jumping deeper into taller bushes farther in. Safe – for sure!

Though this second bunny was a trace bigger than the first, I’d like to think its successful evasion of our bikes was a symbol of the first bunny’s safe escape from the roadway. I’ll never know, but I’m hoping.

The joke about multiplying like rabbits (life is cheap?) and the idea of survival of the fittest come to nothing when a baby bunny’s life is threatened.
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Puzzling poem

“The Animals,” a poem by Geoffrey Lehmann, appeared in the June 1 ’09 New Yorker. In free verse, its message is not always, or consistently, clear. In its five “stanzas,” it talks about how we and animals were once the same – “Without understanding we watched the sunrise/ and the coming of night,/ registered the changing of seasons/ and dew on leaves that brushed our flanks.”

The poem includes descriptions of pairs – humans and non-human animals – now living together in homes: “. . .a calf asleep on a double bed, perhaps,/ or a hare with long ears/ crouched under a mahogany sideboard, thumping the floor” and “a neighbor sleeps with a wombat in her bed. . .” .

Before the graphic, sad and surprising (or maybe not) ending stanza, this short one:

“We were once them,
and now are their custodians.
They know we are different
and their eyes tell us to keep our promise.”

Does the last stanza, the tragic story of a pony, indicate we kept our promise to them by continuing to share living space with them – or, that in so doing, we harmed them because our living spaces aren’t suitable for them? (In fact, are they truly suitable for us?!)

And then of course, there’s the question of which branch really evolved – humans or (non-human) animals.
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Better life, same death

The excerpt quoted below is from a June 21 letter to the (NYT) magazine, in response to an article two weeks before, about a couple who became farmers of organically-raised livestock (that is, organically raised food-to-be). Sheila Seaman, of Leverett, MA, said in part:

“. . . There’s something just plain wrong with killing animals after treating them to a lovely and very short life. Is it better than killing them in horrific slaughter facilities after even shorter, truly miserable lives? Of course it is. But that doesn’t make it right or compassionate or decent.

“Those of us who spend time with chickens and pigs know that each has a personality and a rich emotional life, complete with humor, love, fears and worries. Dealing out death to those who cannot defend themselves, who are young and healthy, and who love life as we all do, can’t be justified by fulfilling the human desire for a tastier bit of dead flesh, which is the solid manifestation of the terror and death pain of those who trusted their caretakers to treat them well.”
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Entrepreneur alert (2)

And now, a new idea for those looking for a start-up business: an animal ambulance, or more clearly, an ambulance for animals. Why not? Like people, animals have health emergencies too. People can phone 911 for ambulance service, but what about pet parents who can’t drive or don’t have a car at their disposal? Call a friend or a cab? Doubtful.

What’s needed is a 24-hour (or even a night time-only) ambulance service for animals. Some middle-of-the-night, a companion animal will need medical help, but the emergency vet’s a distance away and hard enough to find in the daytime. Besides, the people are so upset for the animal they may not be the best drivers to make the trip. Or they can’t make it -- maybe they’re disabled or have no car.

That’s a job for. . . “Animal Ambulance”! It could be run by a vet or a veterinarian-paramedic (or even a non-medical but responsible person) with a van equipped for the comfort of animals and humans. It could come to the home and at least convey the animal to an emergency facility or at most, offer treatment at home. Return trip arrangements could be included.

Of course there would be a fee, something devoted pet parents would be happy to pay. Pet insurance might eventually cover such a thing. What peace of mind an Animal Ambulance would offer a helpless person who doesn’t want to wait till morning to help a loved animal companion feel better.
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Entrepreneur alert (1)

There’s no end to the products and services available for companion animals, especially cats and dogs. The reported $45 billion annually that Americans spend on their pets includes big box stores filled with everything a pet might desire and much more . . . ever-expanding food , toy and dress options . . . country club boarding facilities . . . come-to-your-home groomers in their own fitted-out vans . . . and recently, according to the NYTimes (6-7-09) people who hire on as “dog waste removers,” a.k.a. poop collectors.

These entrepreneurs come relatively cheap – typically scheduling twice-weekly stops and taking the waste with them. They also come w/ catchy names: When Doody Calls, Scoopy Doo, Poop Patrol. People quoted in the story say they’ve given up other things in this rough economy, but not their pet waste removers.

The service is particularly in demand among “super busy, families with children who play in the yard and homeowner associations with common green space or dog runs.” Many of the services claim to be guardians of the environment because they truck off material that “can carry bacteria and parasites that cause disease and contaminate waterways.”

And dogs aren't the only ones picked up after. Some scoopers also handle cat, goose and deer waste. It all goes into plastic (environmentally UNfriendly, right?) or biodegradable bags that then go into the customer’s trash, or to local landfills or incinerators.

Next time: an entrepreneurial idea ready for the taking!
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Just a walk-on role

The walker would be Lilly, or Lily – the info on the screen disappeared too fast to note – a smallish white dog, kind of Pomeranian-y. She was escorted quickly by two women from one side of the baseball field around the perimeter to the other side. And then she disappeared.

Such was the dog adoption program at a home game of the Trenton Thunder last night, June 16. Later, I heard about the technical difficulties that had caused things not to run so well. But short of going to another Thunder game, I can’t confirm that. Meanwhile, Lilly or Lily got short shrift.

Homeless dogs: a worthy reason to do something. But was what happened at last night’s game anything much beyond lip service? “The Trenton Thunder has a dog adoption program.” Whoopie. Check off that good-sounding option as something (reportedly) being done here.

At least it wasn’t outright stupid and insulting, as so many other between-inning activities were -- musical chairs? A race between two little kids, the Thunder mascot and “Thunder Bolt” that the latter two worked hard to lose? A contest to see who can get dizzier fastest by revolving around a baseball bat and then trying to run?

Maybe the good side of this dog adoption gambit is that at least people hear or see the words, and the concept sticks with them. Maybe.

So Lilly-Lily had an outing: a drive to the stadium, the excitement on the baseball field, then a drive back to the shelter she came from. Bummer.
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