For Whom the Dog Howls

Over the years, I have met a number of different people who are prejudiced. Some dislike cats. Quite a few dislike black cats in particular. Others dislike dogs. Then there are those who dislike both cats and dogs. And in extreme cases, they hate cats and/or dogs.

When Rebel first joined our family, I was told by someone that dogs are evil. "Why?" I asked. "Because they can see demons." Instantly, I politely retorted, "I see that as a good thing." I mean, wouldn't you want to know if there's a demon standing next to you? As my dad once told me in my childhood, "Don't be afraid of the dead; they can't hurt you. Only the living can hurt you." So my interpretation is, one's dog can protect one from living demons of the human variety.

On the other hand, my paternal grandmother believed in an old wives' tale regarding dogs, which I have found to be true personally. Twice. A howling dog portends impending death. This is not the same as an angel getting its wings every time a bell rings. Every time a dog howls, someone does not die. At least not in one's family or circle of friends--however, for all I know, it could be a portent for a total stranger halfway around the world. Seriously though, I recall my grandmother getting angry at our dog, Peppy, for howling because, soon afterwards, a family member died of a heart attack. My mother defended Peppy, by attempting to reason with her mother-in-law that even if it were true that our dog had sensed impending death somehow, he had not actually caused anyone to leave this world. That was forty years ago, and I vividly recall Peppy howling in the direction of my uncle's house in the neighborhood. The howling may have lasted a week or two; I do not recall the exact length of time. I do remember that Peppy had never howled prior to that time, nor did he howl after my uncle's death.

Not all dogs have this psychic gift, if you will. Howling does not necessarily always signify death. It could signify nothing. Maybe there's a dog in heat in the neighborhood. Maybe the dog's lonely or the dog simply likes to howl or....

Nonetheless, when Rebel started howling for the first time this summer, I had a gut feeling he was not howling because of a black bear, a dog in heat, or any mundane reason. I believe Rebel has inherited Peppy's psychic ability. No, they are not even remotely related, as far as I know, unless it is through reincarnation. I think it is just something that was meant to be in the family, sort of as a tradition. Therefore, I started watching my dog, whose howling was intermittent over a couple of months. And when my mom asked me in which direction Rebel was pointing, I already had the answer: New Jersey. Rebel's last howl occurred during the second week of October, and it was a blood-curdling, long, mournful howl, which was followed by a period of great sadness in my dog. Rebel's time for howling has passed, since death did come knocking on someone's door in New Jersey, and I think I may have convinced my mother to believe that old wives' tale, especially if it is coupled with a dream of a tooth falling out, which is another old wives' tale with the same end result.

Put on your costumes and bring out the candy for the trick-or-treaters. Just remember, ask not for whom the dog howls--the dog howls for thee. Happy Halloween!

My Creative Outlet

I used to write long e-mails to my friends about the feral cats. I saved all those sent e-mails because they were my online journal, so to speak. Unfortunately, my Internet service provider decided to delete them one day with no warning. The reason I was given was that they had decided to free up some space. My bad luck. I had not made any back-up files, and my friends had deleted my e-mails. With the exception of a few e-mails, my feral cat journal was lost forever. Needless to say, I was upset with my Internet service provider, especially when they told me they could not recover the deleted material. Right, I thought, there is a difference between could not and would not. Anyway, by sheer luck, since they had been saved elsewhere, I did manage to scrounge some e-mails from my former Internet provider. But I kicked myself for not having made back-up copies of everything.

After my loss, while I still continued to send e-mails about the cats and assorted wildlife, I also started writing in an old-fashioned journal. Honestly, I like the feel of a pen in my hands. Plus, the journal itself is a tangible object, which won't disappear with one click of the mouse.

As for blogs, I first heard about them on The View, where they used to mention Rosie O'Donnell's blog, and that was my first blogging experience. You will probably laugh at this, but I was unaware that anyone could create a blog for free, until I watched the movie Julie & Julia. When my nephew told me about blogspot, And a Cat Named Ponzo was created almost immediately.

There were many reasons why I created my blog. I no longer feel compelled to phone someone, either a family member or a friend, whenever I see a red raccoon, black bear, brown bat, etc., because I can now run to my computer and blog about it instead. I also no longer feel compelled to write long e-mails to friends who may not even read them. You might say the final straw for me was when I sent someone a detailed e-mail regarding Ponzo's strong will to live, and the response I got was that maybe I should put him to sleep. (By the way, I hate that euphemism. I also dislike being told I should do something, especially when it comes in the form of unsolicited advice.) However, these days people do not have time to read lengthy things, I am told. Everything seems to be abbreviated. Tweeted. LOL

Nonetheless, I have grown attached to my blog, since it is my creative outlet, where I can post my photos and quotations by Emerson, Thoreau, Mark Twain, and others. Who is my targeted audience? Myself, apparently. And a Cat Named Ponzo happens to be my online journal of whatever I feel like posting on any given day, as long as it somehow pertains to my cats, feral cats, my dog, wildlife on my property, or myself. I have no rules set in stone for this blog. As for making back-up copies, nope, I still have not done that. I think I should put that on my long to-do list, right after raking my leaves, which means maybe I shall get around to it after Thanksgiving Day. This year. Yeah, right.

Growling Ponzo

Today I heard timid Ponzo growl at the propane gas delivery man. Growling Ponzo jumped from one window to another, before deciding that perhaps he should go hide under the bed. But he remained hidden for no more than thirty seconds. Ponzo quickly reappeared on one of the windowsills, where he remained growling until the man left. Some unwelcome intruder had invaded Ponzo's territory--his home, which he was defending in spirit. His anger, not to mention his curiosity, got the better of him, and so Ponzo tossed his fear aside. Needless to say, cats are extremely curious creatures. Therefore, it appears that Ponzo has come a long way from his days of hiding in drainage pipes in ditches at the mere sight of an approaching stranger, human or canine.

Mikey the Hunted

When Rebel and I returned from the garbage dump this afternoon, I noticed a pair of hawks circling our yard. Since Mikey was the only other creature I saw outside at the time, I decided to bring her indoors. Quickly. And the hawks moved on.

I have seen the movie Benji the Hunted. I figure if a hawk, or another large bird, can pick up a cougar cub, then a hawk can pick up an adult Himalayan cat. Needless to say, I am unwilling to test my theory. Mikey may look like a large cat, but she is really a featherweight--just a big-boned girl with long hair.

To Speak the Truth

"It takes two to speak the truth--one to speak,

and another to hear."

--H. D. Thoreau

Milo and Otis

Last night when I could not find anything I wanted to watch on television, I decided Ponzo and I would watch a movie on the computer. I chose Good Night, and Good Luck, but for some reason the movie stopped playing after a short while. Just as well. Ponzo was not really that interested in the story line. My next choice was the first season of Murder, She Wrote; the sound stopped working after a few minutes. And that only reinforced my belief that I am not a computer person--past, present, or future. But I am now convinced that I was meant to choose Ponzo's first movie viewing with him in mind, since my third selection worked.

My little feline companion thoroughly enjoyed watching The Adventures of Milo and Otis. However, as much as Ponzo and I would like to share our favorite scenes with you, we won't do so because we don't want to spoil the movie for you--just in case you have not seen the movie. We recommend that you and your feline companions watch it together. Should your cats want to compare notes with Ponzo regarding The Adventures of Milo and Otis, feel free to try to contact him through this blog. Who knows, maybe Ponzo will even answer some of his fan mail!

Conservatives

"Men are conservatives when they are least vigorous,

or when they are most luxurious.

They are conservatives after dinner."

--R. W. Emerson

A New Day

"Finish each day and be done with it.... You have done what you could;

some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in;

forget them as soon as you can.

Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it well and serenely."

--R. W. Emerson

The Louder He Talked

"The louder he talked of his honour,

the faster we counted our spoons."

--R. W. Emerson

To the best of my knowledge, I have never had a single guest go home with any of my spoons, accidentally or otherwise. However, my black ceramic spoon rest has been missing for approximately two years now. If one of my cats had decided it would make an interesting toy, I probably would have found it in at least a couple of pieces on the kitchen floor. I did search under all the furniture, just in case it had survived a fall from the counter, and I even looked in all of my kitchen cabinets. The spoon rest vanished into thin air! If it disappeared by accident, then perhaps a well-meaning guest had somehow thrown the spoon rest into the trash with some garbage. That would be a stretch, but I suppose that could be a possibility. (This is why I do not like guests hovering in my small kitchen.) If that was not the case, did someone go home with an unintended, unusual party favor?

What You Do

"What you do speaks so loud

that I cannot hear what you say."

--R. W. Emerson

Support the "HAPPY" Act

Rep. Thaddeus McCotter (R-MI) has introduced legislation which would allow the taxpayer who legally owns domesticated animals to take an annual tax deduction of up to $3500 for qualified pet care expenses, including veterinary care costs. H.R. 3501--Humanity and Pets Partnered Through the Years ("HAPPY") Act will help more pet owners provide their pets with proper medical attention, thus ensuring better quality of life for their four-legged family members. Please visit http://www.aspca.org/; under Fight Animal Cruelty, click Lobby for Animals, and then click USA: Make Pet Care More Affordable--Support the HAPPY Act! Fill in your name and information and, if you wish, personalize the provided formatted letter; then click Send Message.

Ponzo and the Valerian Plant

Before Darcy had enough time to destroy the valerian plant completely, I took it away from him and brought it into Ponzo's private room. Although Ponzo had previously shown no interest whatsoever in the valerian plant--or any other plants when he was quite ill in July--his present fascination with the plant rivals that of Darcy's, I must say.

Leaning Tower of Ponzo

The cat tree has been in this position for several weeks now, ever since I propped it against the wall after it came crashing down with Ponzo still attached to it. Both the cat tree and Ponzo barely missed hitting me. Fortunately, nobody got hurt and no damage was done. Surprisingly, Ponzo remained attached to the tree until I gently pulled him off it. I cannot imagine any of the other cats staying silent and motionless, under the same circumstances. As for the cat tree, I have decided to leave it leaning against the wall for a while, because I am tired of trying to adjust the thing to stand up straight. It has always leaned a tad, and I simply do not feel like exerting any more effort on it. By the way, Ponzo no longer has any interest in using the cat tree, and I can't say that I blame him.

Midnight Snack

Since we are expecting frost tonight, I decided to bring some of the deck plants, my herbs, into the house. And even though the cats are carnivores, they wasted no time in enjoying a buffet-style midnight snack consisting of greens. Darcy's favorite was the valerian plant, while Quentin and Locksley squabbled over the sweet grass plant. I call it sweet grass, even though I am not absolutely certain that is the plant's true identity; however, I do know that particular potted plant happens to be Mikey's favorite grass, by whatever name it goes by. I may have saved the plants from the frost, but not from my cats. On the bright side, the plants' days had been numbered.

Trees Reflected in a Windshield

"The trees reflected in the river--

they are unconscious of a spiritual world so near them.

So are we."

--Nathaniel Hawthorne, American Notebooks, 1841-52

Doggie Driving

Rebel's favorite thing to do is go for a ride in the car. He does not even mind sitting in the car for hours by himself, as long as he can accompany me. Of course, that means he gets to stay home during the hot summer months. But now that the weather is cool, I shall be taking Rebel for rides more often. And when we are driving, often people will stare at us; we have put a smile on many a person's face over the years. Today was no exception. The third person who noticed Rebel in the car this afternoon was a small boy who tugged on his mother's arm and shouted, "Doggie driving!" My car, you see, is a right-hand drive vehicle.

Arachnophobia

This photo has been cropped and enlarged several times. Even though the spider appeared willing to be photographed, I was unwilling to get too close to it. But this is approximately the actual size of the spider running loose in my garage. And although it would fit inside my humane bug trap, the thought of getting that close to this spider--well, it was just way too icky! The technical term for my avoidance.

I purchased the humane bug trap, shortly after I had a monstrous wood spider enter the house a few years ago. Incidentally, that wood spider would not have fit inside the trap. I am not exaggerating. I used a vacuum cleaner hose to trap that monster. And then I quickly took the vacuum cleaner outside, placing it on my porch, where it remained for several months. Again, I am not exaggerating. I have more than one vacuum cleaner, you see. Fortunately, my arachnophobia has gotten better over the years--otherwise, I do not think I would have lasted living in the woods this long.

Principal Difference

"If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous,
he will not bite you;

that is the principal difference between a dog and a man."

--MARK TWAIN

"Wag More, Bark Less"

Ignoring the crash I heard this morning, I got out of bed at my leisure. I later discovered that somebody had accidentally knocked over the desk chair. No big deal.

Standing at the front door a couple hours later, I watched the cold rain plastering the fallen leaves onto the driveway. Suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar crashing sound, as if it were running, behind me. I turned around quickly, and I saw the charging cradle, with its attached cord, for my hand-held Dust Devil vacuum cleaner a few feet away from me. By the way, there was no cat in sight. So I returned the charger to the laundry room, but the red Dust Devil itself was missing. I finally found it under the sofa, a couple of yards from the spot where I had seen the charger on the floor. I simply could not imagine how a cat had brought the thing into the room!

Because it was a cold, rainy day, I decided to stay indoors and organize all my bedroom drawers, while watching movies on television all afternoon. Needless to say, my cats insisted on assisting me, especially since the first thing I did was dump everything, clothing and Christmas presents (yes, I like to shop very early), out of the dressers. Then, after slowly organizing my clothes, I took a few things to the laundry room, where I found a present lying in the doorway. Apparently, one of the cats must have played the keep-away game with the "Wag More, Bark Less" t-shirt, still inside its plastic bag, which I had last seen on the bedroom floor.

Unfortunately, the t-shirt bag had been scrunched in the culprit's mouth in order for him/her to carry it to the laundry room. That means the formerly folded t-shirt now has, at the very least, a dozen holes made by feline teeth. And I am short one Christmas present. On the bright side, however, I shall soon have an addition to my vast personal t-shirt collection--that is, after I go shopping for some matching (that might be somewhat of a problem) thread to do some mending.

I believe all of today's culprits are in this post's photo. But since I was not a witness, I shall not name my suspects. As for the Dust Devil incident, I truly have no clue as to how that occurred.

Good-bye, Tom

Thomas C. Cathro, 1946-2009

"You and I, when our days are done,

must say

Without exactly saying it, good-bye."

--John Fuller, 'Pyrosymphonie' (1996)

National Feral Cat Day

Today is National Feral Cat Day. Therefore, I am sharing photos of the four feral cats who have become members of our family. They are living indoors now, and they have not expressed any desire to return to their former outdoor lifestyle.

A Truly Great Man

A truly great man

never puts away the simplicity of a child.

--Chinese proverb

O, The Oprah Magazine

Today I took the quiz Who Am I Meant to Be? by Anne Dranitsaris, Ph.D., found in the November 2009 issue of "O." Out of the seven striving styles, "modes of thought and behavior that direct us to seek satisfaction in different ways," I have two strong striving styles. My second highest score was in "STYLE #5: Striving to Be Knowledgeable." My highest score was in "STYLE #3: Striving to Be Creative." I was not surprised by these results. But I must admit I had to chuckle when one of the suggestions for expressing myself would be to "create an innovative blog." Today happens to be the two-month anniversary of And a Cat Named Ponzo.

Small Beginnings

From small beginnings

come great things.

--Proverb

Wild Turkey

Standing at the side of the road--on our road, to be exact--less than a mile away from my house, as my car drives, was a wild turkey. As the crow flies, it was less than half a mile away. When I stopped to take a look, the turkey decided he (or she) did not really have to cross the road at this particular time, and so it turned around and went back into the woods. Too bad I did not have my camera in the car.

Books and Friends

Books and friends should be few but good.--Proverb

Personally speaking, one can never have too many books--especially good ones.

All Is Forgiven--Almost

Approximately forty-eight hours ago, I brought Ponzo and Locksley home from the Pet Wellness Clinic hosted by the local animal shelter. Even though Locksley was not due to have his shots updated for another month, I thought it would be good for Ponzo to have some company in the car. Naturally, Ponzo, being the smaller cat, got to go in the larger cat carrier, simply because the carrier had been stored in Ponzo's private room. I had not had the foresight to get the carriers ready the night before. You see, when the intended occupants see me pick up a carrier, that's it, they're gone into hiding in a flash.

I have been unable to figure out how the cats always seem to know who is, and who is not, scheduled to go for a dreaded car ride. That is, unless I do not have a particular cat or cats earmarked for capture--then everyone vanishes without a trace. Anway, that's Emma in the photo; she is wishing Locksley and Ponzo a safe and speedy return home. The other cats, being naturally curious creatures, did not run and hide, but strolled about the room after bidding the two carrier inmates a fond adieu. Had there been a need for me to do so, I could have grabbed one of the others as well. Fairly easily, I think. But I am convinced that the other cats knew instinctively that they would be staying home, otherwise they would have gone into hiding. This I know from many years of experience because I dread the ordeal of first locating, then capturing, and finally placing cats inside carriers. Usually this means furniture needs to be moved, and I end up being exhausted before we even get to the car. My worst experience was when I had to take apart a bed, while I played musical mattresses/bed frame, so to speak, with Ginny; oh, I won the game--at the cost of several nicks in the wall, and I promised myself I would never play that game again.

Ponzo, Locksley, and I survived Saturday's ordeal, but not without an incident at the shelter. It was a very long wait, but most of our time was spent in the car, which was fine with the cats because they expressed no interest in going out to see the horde of barking dogs. When we finally got to go inside the building, I sat down to wait for our turn and I wondered why the shelter smelled. I had immediately noticed the distinct smell of cat urine. Then it dawned on me that the odor could be emanating from one of my cat carriers. When the shelter director came over and said she smelled a tomcat, I immediately apologized, explaining that Ponzo was an unneutered male because he is an FIV-positive feral.... (Yes, I strongly believe in spaying/neutering, and none of my pets are capable of reproduction. And Ponzo's day to be neutered is approaching. In the meantime, trust me, there is no way Ponzo is going to become a father inside our house.)

Nevertheless, when one hears the word tomcat, especially an FIV-positive, feral tomcat, an image of a big cat who likes to fight with other cats comes to mind--at least that is the image I get. Ponzo, on the other hand, is a timid soul, a small cat who steps aside for other cats. He had made his home in drainage ditches, apparently, and had been fed by kind people, but he would bolt if anyone approached him. He was our neighborhood wild cat. And I had the opportunity of observing him before he landed in the cats' underground railroad passageway, which ultimately led him inside my house. So I know for a fact, that if Ponzo is eating and another cat comes along, Ponzo will walk away and wait for the other cat to finish eating before he returns to his meal.

Also, Ponzo has never once sprayed inside our house. He had not sprayed inside the cat carrier in the shelter either. But from fright, Ponzo had urinated and pooped all over himself. The vet and his staff were extremely nice, by the way. They even cleaned the carrier for us. But Ponzo did come home with a memento, a small piece of poop attached to his bushy tail.

Ponzo was happy to come home, but he is now spending a lot of time under the bed, which is where he had preferred to hide in July. But he will come sit on my lap, and he does play with his toys in my presence, only he now chooses to sleep under the bed instead of on it. Fortunately, Ponzo still comes to me immediately whenever I call his name. So, we have not regressed too much. As for Locksley, he was also happy to come home. The remainder of the weekend, however, Locksley would come up to me with a look on his face which I interpreted to mean, "What in the world possessed you to make me go through such an ordeal? Have you gone mad?" Nonetheless, all is forgiven--almost.

Confidence in a Friend

"'T is great Confidence in a Friend
to tell him your Faults,

greater to tell him his."

--Benjamin Franklin

Quentin, Son of Jeb

Like father, like son.--Proverb

Quentin has his mother Ginny's coloring and his father's physique, including Jeb's short tail. Is it heredity or environment which makes us who we are? I mean cats. Which influences their personalities more, heredity or environment? Or is it both, equally? Or does it depend on the individual situation?

I believe that Quentin was next in line to become the heir to Jeb's feral cat colony. That is, had Ginny's kittens been born feral, I suspect Quentin would have usurped his older brother's (rightful?) leadership role in the colony, just as Jeb had done with his brother Mosby, when the time came. The strongest cat rules. But I changed the course of history by having Ginny's kittens born indoors.

Then I intervened again in Quentin's feline passage rites into adulthood, so to speak, meaning there would be no aggressive alpha male behavior allowed in this household. You see, both Quentin and his brother, Darcy, are first-generation housecats. Neither one has ever even expressed an interest in going outdoors, although Quentin did manage to open the front door once, merely to see if he could do it--and then he just stood on the deck, as if wondering what he was doing there. I digress. When Quentin was about a year old, one day he started bossing his siblings around, but I put an immediate stop to his aggressive behavior. And Quentin, who knows that I am truly the head of this household, realized that while all cats are created equal, the human rules. Okay, cats rule, but I am still in charge--most of the time.

Saint Seton's Orphaned Animals

When I happened to be reading a local newspaper this past week about the annual Festival of Leaves, I noticed that one of the food vendors would be Saint Seton's Orphaned Animals. I immediately decided I needed to attend the festival today, just to find out some information about this organization. The name really intrigued me.

Introducing myself as an animal lover and a vegetarian (and not someone interested in their crab cakes--although I heard they were delicious), I had the opportunity to chat with the two nice gentlemen who were raising funds by selling food at the festival. When I learned that Saint Seton's Orphaned Animals assists people who are receiving Meals-on-Wheels, I smiled because it brought back memories from the time when I worked for a Senior Outreach Program, and so I was familiar with Meals-on-Wheels. How wonderful, I thought, that there is an organization which helps feed the pets of the elderly, the sick, and those hurt by our present economy! By the way, they are involved with the Rappahannock Area Agency on Aging Pet Food Program in Virginia.

I wish that other Area Agencies on Aging throughout the country would establish similar pet food programs. And what about the possibility of other agencies and organizations assisting pet owners who have been hit the hardest by the economy? It is heartbreaking to hear on the news that people who have lost their homes have been forced to give up their pets--family members who have provided them with unconditional love and companionship. I happen to disagree with anyone who says that pets are luxuries, but instead of getting on my soapbox regarding pets, I am going to refer you to the website of Saint Seton's Orphaned Animals.

Please visit http://www.saintseton.com/ for information on this fine organization, which was established in April 2002. And please also visit the websites of animal rescue groups in your own area.

Being

"Being is the great explainer."

--H. D. Thoreau

Three Things

"Think of three things--

Whence you came,

Where you are going,

And to whom you must account."

--Benjamin Franklin

A Cat, a Woodpecker, and a Bear

What do a feral cat, a pileated woodpecker, and a black bear have in common? Their paths momentarily intersected in my yard this evening. All three were on separate missions to find food. The feral cat became a guest at Zorro's bowl, while the pileated woodpecker dined on ants inside one of my trees. As for the black bear, he merely walked through my yard without stopping. I should think about putting a bear crossing sign at the top of my driveway. Anyway, once again, I missed a black bear photo opportunity, because the bear had disappeared into the woods by the time I found my camera. I suppose I can console myself that, even if I'd been holding the camera in my hands at the time of the bear sighting, the bear would have turned out looking like a distant, small dark spot in my photo. Still, it would have been a bear photo. I am determined to get a photo of the black bear one of these days, months, years....

Happiness

"Happiness is a mystery, like religion,

and should never be rationalised."

--G. K. Chesterton

Walking Sticks Mating

I promised a friend I would take a photo of a walking stick for her, so that she could show her husband what they look like, and today was the first time this year that I saw the stick-like insect. Only it turned out to be two walking sticks mating. Out of curiosity, I googled walking sticks and learned that they are listed under the Phasmatodea or Phasmida order of insects. As depicted in my photo, the female is much larger than the male. By the way, very few walking sticks are male. I knew they are vegetarians. However, I did not know that sometimes the male rides on a female's back for a couple of weeks, until she is ready to mate with him, and their coupling may last for hours, days or even weeks.

Character

"One can acquire anything in solitude except character."

--Stendhal

Black Bear Calling Card

When I glanced out a window this morning, I saw Zorro standing over something in the yard. Fearing the worst, I ran outside in hopes of perhaps saving the life of a squirrel or other small creature in the feral cat's clutches. But when I got close, I discovered Zorro examining a black clump with great interest. Apparently, a bear had dined at a neighbor's bird feeder. Anyway, I went back inside the house and googled black bear poop--I found scat. The proper term for bear poop is scat. My vocabulary word for the day.

Art of the Teacher

"It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy

in creative expression and knowledge."

--Albert Einstein

Solitude

"I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude."

--H. D. Thoreau

Interception

"Everything intercepts us from ourselves."

--R. W. Emerson

A Butterfly in Memory of Theresa

"A Friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature."

--R. W. Emerson

Definition of a Cynic

"Cynic. A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are,

not as they ought to be."--Ambrose Bierce

Library Card

"Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it."--Dr. Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)

Aside from being the inspiration for this blog, Ponzo was the driving force behind my getting a library card. (Although my personal library contains a number of medical reference books pertaining to cat care, it was insufficient.) I was on a quest to read everything I possibly could about FIV, spider bites, etc. In the meantime, I re-discovered the joy of checking out books from the public library. Over the years, you see, I had developed the rather expensive habit of buying books, perhaps simply because I like to see them displayed on my bookshelves, where they are always readily available. And I must confess that it is a good thing my family does not charge me late fines for borrowing their books and DVDs, otherwise I would owe them a small fortune. My library card will keep me honest.