There’s More Than One Way To Scan A Cat

That’s what my father said after I mentioned that I had microchips implanted in my cats. When I posted on Facebook that I’d had this done, the responses were: “Feline Borgs” and “Are they spies?” (My reply: “I can’t say”.)

I’ve written here before about my struggle about whether to allow my cats to be indoor/outdoor cats. Well, I’m still struggling. While Johnny wears his collar like a gentleman, Charlie refuses to wear his. He is the Houdini of feline borgs, and manages to extract all 16 pounds of himself from any kind of collar, every time. So I got the chip. But it migrated. Or at least that’s what I thought, a few days later, as I was petting him and noticed a bump on his haunch—it felt like a grain of rice, just under the skin. I looked up the details of the microchip, and that is exactly how it is described. The company I used claims to have developed a special non-migrating chip. I waited a few more days, and it was still there, so off to the vet we went. The vet tech (whom I adore big time) took Charlie in the back, then called me in shortly after.

“He’s fine,” he said. “See? He scans just fine.” And with that, he took a large scan gun and beamed it at Charlie’s shoulder scruff, and 14 digit code immediately popped up on the scan gun. I showed him where I felt the alleged migratory chip, and he felt it, paused, and told me that’s where they did the feline leukemia booster shot. Normally they do that shot in the shoulder, but since the cats were getting the microchip that day (injected subcutaneously), they got the booster in the haunch instead.

Mystery solved, cat scans just fine. Now explain this: since getting the microchip, Charlie’s been wearing his collar non-stop.

For more info on the Home Again microchip and to help lost pets in your area, check out: www.homeagain.com

Letting Go

My father used to write for Parents Magazine, back in the 1970s. One article he wrote was about watching my older sister jump off the high dive, from a float in the harbor. He was worried about her: how deep was the water? What if she landed funny? What if she got scared up there? But he encouraged her, shouting up to her to take the leap! Of course the ocean water was deep enough—cold, but deep—and my sister was an avid swimmer so she landed and swam back to the float just fine.

My kittens are now 2 years old, and this year at their annual check up I decided to get them the feline leukemia shot, which will protect them if they become indoor/outdoor kitties. I sense that they are bored inside. Both are a bit overweight—plump, glossy, and slow moving. But when they watch the window, see an insect, or hear a bird, they come alive: alert and engaged. So I decided it is finally time to give the big outdoors a try. I realize I need to treat this transition with care; make sure they know their surroundings, not force them, observe them at first. And I realize it’s a hard decision that will potentially open their world up dramatically, but also provide new threats and dangers.

Seeing Johnny take his first (supervised!) sniff around the deck today confirmed the decision. He did not want to go back inside. He batted then bit a dried leaf, tasted the thyme from the herb plantings, listened to the birds, stretched in the sun...in fact, he actually made a small growling noise when I lifted him to take him back inside. I think he’s ready, I just wonder if I am.

Why our cat thinks he owns our dog

When DJ was a puppy we crated him. DJ is the first dog I’ve had from puppyhood on, so crating seemed very much like “caging” or “locking up”. The reality is however, as most dog experts will tell you, their crate really can become more like their room: a place for quiet time and an opportunity to rest and feel comforted.

DJ’s crate was placed in the bedroom, just below the windows which look out onto the street: an ideal location for a cat to make his habitual perch. And Charlie did. By day, he would watch the neighborhood’s comings and goings; by night, while DJ shifted and settled, Charlie would watch him intently and occasionally dangle a paw at the 20-lb, 30-lb, then 40- and 50-lb Berner puppy. DJ seemed unconcerned and was probably absorbing so much about the world, that a cat hovering above him nightly was the least of his concerns.

It seems however, that Charlie was perhaps doing something I didn’t realize. As I read NOW about how to establish and maintain alpha position in relation to a dog, I think back to Charlie's earliest training of the dog, and I consider his relationship to 138-lb DJ now. Charlie always sits at a level above DJ and when DJ comes too close without permission he gets a swat from the cat paw. This inspires the dog to get low and stay humble. Charlie occasionally leans in to DJ’s massive head and takes a nibble on his forehead—but the affection is given only when the cat chooses. Just to be sure he understands fully who’s in charge, when DJ turns away to lay down, Charlie drags his claws through the dog’s black coat, keeping a souvenir of his pet for himself.

Introducing the Fursons

We are a family of 6: my fiance, our two Bernese Mountain dogs, and two cats. For some time we have called our home Animal Kingdom, but with time comes new names.

The most senior member of Animal Kingdom is Lexa. She is a beloved 8.9 year old Berner in amazing shape. While she lounges gracefully most of the day, given the opportunity she'll leap up and down at the prospect of a good walk. Lexa's full name is Newcastle's Lexa Pip!

Our other dog (a year and half old, 138 pound Berner) has a variety of names: DJ Puppy is his given name. The name didn't intend to stand for anything other than "disc jockey"-- in the weeks leading up to getting him, we pictured a Berner puppy with giant headphones (after a late night seeing the amazing DJ Bassnectar!). However, like Lexa, he has a more formal name which includes the breeder-- and that is: DeGrasso's Joyful Mystery.

After bringing 17 pound ball of puff DJ Puppy on a whirlwind tour to meet nieces, nephews, and granddogparents at Christmas, one week after we got him, a 3-year old nephew intending to say "He's so furry!" instead said "He's so furzy!" Furzee stuck, and soon became the faux-Icelandic "Furse" (pronounced Fur-sah).

The other morning Robert got up before me and let the dogs out. He came back to the bedroom and announced "The Fursans have been out, but have not yet had breakfast!"

Well, meet the Fursons. Within a week, this agile proper noun has comfortably fit our family like a warm furry coat...big enough to include everyone, even the two cats: Charlie and Johnny Perez.

PHOTOS:
1. Lexa and DJ now
2. Lexa and DJ 2007
3. Charlie
4. Johnny Perez