Friday, December 31, 2010

To All the Cats I've Loved Before

I never dreamed, way back when in 2000, that by the year 2010, I would be living with ten cats. I also never imagined that I would have the privilege of rescuing another seven cats, or that I would reunite a lost cat with his owner, or that I would introduce a cat in need to a couple that did not know they needed a cat to complete their perfect family.

During the past ten years, I have relied on a simple mathematical formula: One person rescues one cat equals magic, fireworks, connections! There is nothing like the warm body of a cat to bring comfort during the cold, and there is nothing like the cool sensibility of a cat to warm the heart.

To all the cats I’ve loved before—and with apologies to Julio Iglesias—I’m yours!

Here’s to another feline-filled year.

Query of New Year’s Eve: Do you plan to expand your feline family in 2011?

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Great Expectations


The look in his eyes said it all: I found my forever home.

This is a heartwarming tale about a cat named Bleu, and I like to think that Charles Dickens might be smiling in heaven when he reads my version of Great Expectations.

I first met Bleu this past February, shortly after I rescued a stray cat whom I named Saint (for the Super Bowl-champion New Orleans Saints: Go Saints Go!). Dr. O.’s clinic generously agreed to let me board Saint until she was adopted. Every day after work I visited Saint, who was perched in her “cage/suite” above Bleu’s. There I was, cooing over Saint and working with her to rebuild her trust in humans, and there was Bleu, rattling the door of his cage as if to ask: Will you take care of me, too?

Saint was adopted within a month, and as I returned to Dr. O.’s clinic regularly during the spring and summer and fall to purchase Lucius’s much-needed meds (kitty Prozac, anyone?), I noticed that Bleu was always there, looking forlornly at me.

So when this December rolled around, I thought I would try to make Bleu's Christmas dream come true. My friend and colleague Emily happened to mention that she and her family were fostering a stray cat. I had to pounce. I suggested to Emily that if she was ever interested in adopting a cat for her two sons, I knew of an orphan who desperately needed a home. And several weeks later, Emily writes with absolute authority that Bleu—renamed Blue to reflect her and her husband's long-standing Texas roots—is resting very comfortably while “negotiating” territory with their Corgi. I was not surprised to learn that Blue responds to affection and is so appreciative of attention. Apparently, he likes to tickle the ivories, too.

I love this photo of Blue leaving Dr. O.’s clinic to embark on his next stage of life. He has great expectations of his future, and I am a grateful Cat Lady for the kindness shown to him.

Merry Christmas to all kitties and Cat Ladies, and to all a good night!

Query of Christmas Eve: Blue, can you play "Blue Christmas" for me?

Those Were the Days




The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Cat Lady would soon be there.

Santa has nothing over me. He arrives only once a year, whereas I make my presence known to our ten cats 'round the clock. I ask you: Is there such a person as a non-omnipresent Cat Lady? I cannot imagine.

Catland is fully decorated for the holidays, and the countdown to December 25 has begun. Here is L.B. waiting eagerly by the Christmas tree for his gifts to arrive. Just a few more days! He and all of our cats know that there will be plenty of wrapping paper and ribbons and boxes to play with, and that this Cat Lady will be cleaning up for several hours after the gift-giving session. Kickoff occurs about 5:00 a.m.

And here is Lydia many years ago, when she liked to show off and race up the tree like an athlete carrying the Olympic torch to its final destination. Those were the days, my friend, when Lydia was young and super-energetic and fancy-free. I have to admit that I miss seeing her swing from the tree's branches like a monkey, although I do not find myself reminiscing about watching our hand-picked collection of vintage ornaments fall to the floor, one by one.

Query of the Day: How long does it take your cats to reach the top of your holiday tree?

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Birds of a Feather



Much as I wish I could, I can’t feed every stray cat I see, and I am always saddened when I find evidence in our backyard that a cat has made a bird its prey. But some fine-art birds are meant to be captured, and was it only two weeks ago that bibliophiles were still stalking an original edition of John James Audubon’s Birds of America, yearning to bring home one of the most coveted rare-book trophies in the world?

Audubon’s book has now entered the annals of auction history, with the final gavel price of $11.5 million. Going, going, gone! Meanwhile, the stray cats in our neighborhood keep coming, walking up and down the streets in search of sustenance of the feathered kind. I see a grey tomcat making the daily rounds, as well as a tortoiseshell who arrives for nocturnal visits. The scruffy felines may lack the glamour of the hedge-fund managers or retail heiresses or wealthy Russian and Japanese collectors who were purportedly bidding on the Audubon book, but, just like art collectors, these cats do know how to hunt, very well, and in secrecy.

Part of the value of the Audubon book was determined by its scarcity. For the cats forced to live as orphans on my and neighboring streets, the scarcity of food is simply a fact of life, not a thrill. Yet for both hungry cats and the avaricious winning bidder of Audubon’s masterpiece, birds are a status symbol. I know what happens to birds trapped by cats, but I wonder whether the proud new owner of the Audubon will ever release his birds from his treasure trove.

Query of the Day: Does your cat suffer from ruffled-feather syndrome?

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Barbie Vet



When I was a little girl, which was a very, very long time ago, I loved to play with my Barbie dolls. I collected several Barbies, and I enjoyed dressing them in their different (and, now that I think about it, “out there”) outfits. I can’t remember Barbie resembling a career woman, at least based on the wardrobe choices available in the 1960s. There were no power suits back then.

Enter 2010, and here comes Barbie the veterinarian, scrubs and accessories included. My husband and I recently bought Barbie Vet for our niece, whose fraternal twin prefers Thomas the Tank Engine. Getting back to Barbie, what else would a Cat Lady choose as the perfect gift for a four-year-old girl who loves kitty cats?

Barbie Vet is packaged with a plastic kitten who meows on cue. I wonder if I had been given my very own Barbie Vet in my youth, would I have gravitated sooner to a life consumed with cats?

Query of the Day: What do you think of Barbie Vet?

Monday, November 22, 2010

Pat-Downs



I haven’t yet been subjected to an airport pat-down, though I do not question those who describe the experience as intrusive, invasive, and offensive. Who would enjoy being frisked and groped in a TSA security line, especially by an insensitive stranger?

I’m certainly no stranger to Lucius, who has never seen an airport and rarely leaves home, mostly because of suffering from motion sickness (among other maladies of the heart and the mind). But Lucius is a wise sounding board, and so I asked him if he had an opinion on pat-downs.

According to the Tao of Lucius, felines live for pat-downs, particularly the ones classified as enhanced pat-downs. Lucius doesn’t understand the uproar over the TSA guards and does not condone the outrage over the upgraded, full-body scans. Every stroke matters immensely to Lucius, and there is simply no such thing in his world as my lingering too long over the back of his head or in between his shoulders.

“Palms up,” Lucius seemed to say as I approached him this morning for his post-breakfast massage. “Do you want a pat-down,” I asked him teasingly?

“More, please,” meowed Lucius, without any sign of revolt.

Query of the Day: How many pat-downs do you give each day—to your cats, that is?

Friday, November 19, 2010

The Sexiest Man (ly) Cat Alive


It was hard to miss the hoopla this week surrounding the announcement of People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.”

Leading up to the big reveal, I heard People’s editors talking excitedly on the morning news shows about the qualities they admire most in the leading men whose buff bodies grace the pages of the magazine's most sexy issue. Topping the editors’ charts for hunk appeal are good looks, humor, and humility. And that description of the ideal sexy man fits L.B. to a T.

So today I am announcing that L.B. is the sexiest man (ly) cat alive! As I have written before on this blog, L.B. is the manliest of our six feline guys at home. He is handsome and amusing, though I’m not sure that humility is always the correct word to use in terms of his baiting Lucius. But L.B. is humble about his origins as a cat who was first discovered outside of a discount store before being given to one of our neighbors, a college student who ultimately abandoned him for this Cat Lady to rescue.

I couldn’t resist L.B. when I saw him for the first time seven years ago. Just look into his bedroom eyes. Who could say no?

Query of the Day: Do you live with a sexy cat?

Friday, November 12, 2010

Switch-Hitter



To quote the one and only Britney Spears, “Oops, I did it again.” First, there was my brother’s dog Luna in Atlanta, and just this morning I fell in love with another dog.

This true story has a very quick and happy ending. When I left for the office today around 7:45 a.m., I remember thinking that I actually had no need to arrive at work so early. Was there a reason why the cats let me leave Catland prior to my customary 8:15 time slot?

Suddenly, a small dog appeared out of nowhere. I could tell that she was bewildered and lost, and I hastily presumed she was abandoned. I don’t store dog food for the fun of it, and I’ve never brought a dog to our cats’ feline-only veterinarian. While my husband entertained the frisky and friendly dog, I called Dr. O., asking her to please advise an ignorant Cat Lady on how best to help a stray of another persuasion. I made an appointment with a canine veterinarian so that the dog could be examined properly, and I drove like a bat out of hell to Walgreen’s to buy some canned dog food and a package of bone-shaped treats.

Fast-forward to about 9:30 this morning, when Dr. O.’s office manager called. “Have you seen the front-page banner on chron.com,” she asked? I visited the Houston Chronicle’s website immediately, and there was a picture of our brand-new friend. Her name is Mei Ling and she is part-Yorkie, part-Maltese. We e-mailed and Tweeted all of the contacts listed for probably only five minutes before the pet’s full-time caregiver came forward with great relief. Turns out little Mei Ling has her own media platforms, too, which is no surprise given that she lives with an ABC News political reporter in Houston.

Every dog may have his or her day, but Mei Ling made my day unexpectedly, positively “woofy.”

Query of the Day: Can a Cat Lady bark for joy over rescuing a dog?

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

"Am I a Cat Lady?"

Further to my being in New York last week…

While there on business, I had the opportunity to meet a publisher who loves cats and dogs. In fact, during our conversation, her basset hound listened intently as I presented myself as a Cat Lady who enjoys writing about cats. Several days after I returned to Houston, I was happy to receive a message from the publisher, in which she provided a link to a blog sponsored by PetFoodDirect. She knew that the subject would appeal mightily to me: “Am I a Cat Lady?”

Oh, let me count the ways. I didn’t post to the blog itself for fear of crashing the PetFoodDirect server. After all, I could write pages and pages and pages about what being a Cat Lady means to me, and I know that we all feel the same way and also will count our ways, and blessings, via communicating with each other online.

I could relate to the lead blogger’s story about how a coworker gave her the “Crazy Cat Lady Action Figure,” and how upon further inspection of the toy, she thought, “Wait a minute, she kind of looks like me!" I, too, have brown hair and brown eyes, but the similarity to the plastic figure stops there. I have nothing against sweatpants, but I refuse to dress the disheveled part of the Cat Lady who arrives straight out of central casting.

Yet consider this double standard: In the latest issue of T magazine that accompanied this past Sunday's New York Times , a writer traced the path of a prominent antiques dealer in Zurich. According to the article, the dealer “sets off in a scruffy parka to prowl the famous Zurich flea markets. Nothing about this guy blends in, including the fluorescent high-tops, and vendors spot him coming blocks away.”

So, it’s OK to be an antiques dealer who doesn’t dress too well while on the prowl for objets d’art, but a Cat Lady who doesn’t keep up with fashion while rescuing stray cats is ridiculed?

I think we could help overturn the Cat Lady stereotype by not affixing our badges of honor to bathrobes. We have to start somewhere. Meanwhile, I will continue to write about why I am a Cat Lady. Nobody can stop me now!

Query of the Day: Will you wear your Cat Lady badge for life?

Friday, November 5, 2010

Three Guys

I recently returned from a trip to New York City, where long before Starbucks ruled every street corner, there were neighborhood coffee shops with unbranded names like Viand and Three Guys.

When I worked in New York, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I lived a few blocks away from Three Guys on Madison Avenue on the Upper East Side. The burly guys who manned the front counter every morning would have laughed had I ordered a “tall soy no-water chai” for my wake-up drink of choice. Whaa? My light coffee kept me going then, and cats were nowhere in sight.

Now, my three guys go by the name of Lucius, the “little man”; Linus, the “wrestling man”; and T.J., the “wiggle man.” Let me explain.

When Lucius became our first cat, my husband instructed him to help look after me, to be the little man of the house at all hours. When Linus joined the feline crew, he made his mark as the cat who could not stop wrestling with the others. The harder they pounced, the more he enjoyed the tackles. I need to make a recording of his squeals of delight. Before we moved T.J. inside and into the garage apartment, he loved to recline in the driveway and wiggle his body to get my attention. T.J. has not set his paws outdoors in seven years, but you can’t keep a wiggle man from shaking his booty behind closed doors.

There are three other guys at Catland—Leo, L.B., and Alvar—but I have yet to give them nicknames that incorporate the word “man.” In fact, now that I think about it, Leo might not appreciate being called Sweet Potato, but “orange man” sounds even stranger to this Cat Lady’s ear.

Query of the Day: How many guys live with you at home?

Saturday, October 30, 2010

That Old Black Magic



When I arrived at my grocery store this morning, I wasn’t expecting to see a giant balloon of a black cat hovering above the fruit and vegetable aisles. But I can understand the need to promote Halloween in this larger-than-feline-life way. What child won’t delight in the smiling cat with the saucer-size eyes? Black cats have gotten a bad rap throughout history, and perhaps a whimsical balloon can help overturn stereotypes.

I have been fascinated with black cats for some time, although not one of our ten cats is pure black. Alvar is the only one who has a touch of that old black magic in his fur. The photographer Brassaï understood the magical mystery of black when he made this mesmerizing portrait of a black cat with fluorescent eyes. The photograph is among my favorites of felines in the collections of the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston (my employer that puts the Fancy Feast on the table at home).

My brother had a wonderful black cat named Squash who lived to the ripe age of seventeen. To the very end, she liked to stick out her tongue and show who was boss. Here is another of my black furry friends, Oliver, whose caregiver is my good friend and colleague Daphne. Rumor has it that Oliver will be perched on Daphne’s brownstone stoop tomorrow night to greet trick-or-treaters as only a black cat can.

I hope all of us who are Cat Ladies will ensure that our beloved cats of all color, and especially the black ones who are routinely maligned on Halloween, will have a safe night out.

Query of the Day: Is there such a thing as a Cat Lady Halloween costume?

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Possession

This morning I dropped by one of my favorite shops for antiques in Houston. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but I was in the mood for a change of scenery and an escape from the still-hot weather. The air-conditioned booths beckoned me, and soon a Victorian curiosity caught my eye.

I’m in awe of the number of pet beds that manufacturers make in all shapes and sizes to appeal to the marketplace. It had never occurred to me, though, to buy a relic from the past for one of our ten cats to sleep in. The miniature bed for sale at the antiques shop is made of mahogany and upholstered in forest-green velvet, and the dealer’s neatly handwritten tag made this sales pitch: “The perfect acquisition for your prized possession.”

Consumption makes the world go 'round, yet do we want to go so far as to prize our pets as possessions? Perhaps the dealer was relying on slightly florid prose simply to evoke the Victorian era, and no harm was intended. I could imagine buying the antique pet bed with my even more imaginary disposable income, and I’m sure I would enjoy the purchase for days and years to come. After all, an antique stirs our fond memories of the point of purchase and can prove to be a wise investment, too.

“Acquiring cats” falls into a different league, although we Cat Ladies have no trouble justifying our decisions to bring felines into our lives. Investing in our heartfelt emotions is also a smart strategy.

Query of the Day: Does your cat like velvet upholstery and tufted cushions?

Friday, October 15, 2010

Required Reading

I won’t give away all of the author’s bons mots—there are so many—but here are a few of my favorite lines from Sloane Crosley’s online opinion piece in yesterday’s New York Times, “Cat People Are People, Too”:

“The upside to cat ownership is proximity to a sense of dignity, intelligence and lack of garish behavior. The downside is that a cat is something hidden, a secret that needs confessing as the doorknob turns. By the way, I’ve been to the doctor and it turns out … I have a cat.”

“Don’t talk about your cat,” a friend of mine said when I told him I was writing this, “People will think you’re crazy.”

“As a woman especially, it takes a little self-bolstering to own a cat and be content with publicly adoring it. Did you ever hear the one about the spinster found dead in her pink bathrobe, surrounded by golden retriever puppies? Me neither.”

Oh, do I ever need to have a long conversation with Ms. Crosley! I’ll show her the way.

Query of the Day: Isn’t garish behavior with our cats acceptable in some etiquette books?

Friday, October 8, 2010

Tales of Mr. T.




My friend and colleague Heather relocated recently to Ohio, and little did she know that a stray tuxedo kitten was waiting to greet her and her family. Heather moved into her new house with two cats–a senior diva named Marfa and a naughty young boy named Ocho—and she was not looking to adopt a cat. Getting the new house in order meant setting up a home office, installing new insulation in the attic, enrolling her daughter in school, meeting her husband’s new colleagues, and so forth. Finding a stray cat was not a line item on Heather’s customary to-do lists. But there was the kitten who would soon become Mr. T., and what else could Heather do but to say, “Come inside.”

And that is the way it always works, doesn’t it? Just when we think we have established the perfect feline family, along comes another to test the equation. There is no ready-made formula, or the just-right number, for every cat lover, and leave it to the five-pound Mr. T. to break through the proverbial glass ceiling (well, a window of a house) and announce that he had hit the jackpot when he joined Heather’s family. As fate would have it, Mr. T. and Ocho are best buddies, and Marfa now has the opportunity to watch daily wrestling matches between the two boys. Apparently, Mr. T. is such an accomplished wrestler that Heather’s daughter considered renaming him Sumo.

But Mr. T. he shall be, and I can’t wait to meet the little fellow who forced another Cat Lady to make up her mind quickly. This is my promise: One person rescuing one cat makes a difference.

Query of the Day: Would you watch Mr. T. and Ocho wrestle on pay-per-view TV?

Friday, October 1, 2010

Watchdog and Watch Cat

Well, I did it. Last night I was unfaithful to Lucius. I am in Atlanta, where my brother's dog, Luna, decided that she needed to sleep with me. Luna is a shelter dog who craves affection almost more than Lucius does each day. It took me just a little while to get used to hanging out with a young dog, and a big, frisky one at that. Luna is a Golden Retriever-Irish Setter mix.

I kept lapsing into Lucius-speak, saying "good boy" or "good little man," just as I praise Lucius repeatedly. Luna likes "good girl," accompanied by many pats on the head, and she is a very good girl. I have a strong feeling she will be my watchdog again tonight.

Meanwhile, I am curious to know more about an unofficial "watch cat" I read about. According to the New York Times, a "stray black-and-white cat stands watch" in a crane yard in Port Morris, New York, protecting parts of a massive steel sculpture by Richard Serra that has yet to be formally assembled and installed. This is the only bit of information revealed about the feline sentinel.

Could the cat have been a museum security guard in an earlier incarnation? Or a curator with a taste for industrial art?

A sign in the crane yard says "No Trespassing. No Dumping." What's missing is the sign that says "Cat Welcome."

Query of the Day: Does your cat like heavy metal?

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Cougar Town



Lydia is not a dirty old lady. But I wonder what is going on. She seems to have a new thing for Alvar, which makes Lydia not only a mixed-breed cat—part Egyptian Mau, part Siamese, part grey tabby—but a downright cougar.

I caught Lydia staring dreamily into Alvar’s eyes the other day. You can be sure that Lucius was nowhere in sight. I don’t know whether Lydia senses that Lucius is having more difficulties with the aging process, and if she is placing her bet on the younger Alvar to finally triumph over his senior-citizen rival. Did I write yet that Lucius is now on arthritis medicine, in addition to his daily dose of “kitty Prozac” for his presumed insanity and insulin for his diabetes?

But getting back to Lydia. Oh, she is a sly one. She shows Alvar her fashion-friendly spotted stomach. She chases him around the house, testing his agility. She lets him eat treats off of her plate as a reward for his prowess on the feline field.

Meanwhile, Lucius sleeps…and schemes.

Query of the Day: Do you have a cougar in your house?

Friday, September 17, 2010

Ooh! La, La!



Bienvenue to Cat Lady’s new clothing boutique!

Just kidding, but I am tempted to buy many pairs of these bewitching stockings and give them to my cat-loving friends. These stockings are a bit racy for me to wear to work, though perfect for my at-home, cat-inspired attire.

My friend and colleague Helga tipped me off to her Parisian source for leggings. Either the fashion designer has four-legged friends or a very active, feline-inclined imagination—would you agree?

Query of the Day: Would you wear these stockings at the office or in the privacy of your home?

Friday, September 10, 2010

Vintage Feline Appeal


I haven’t grown accustomed yet to haunting e-bookstores. Although I buy books online regularly, I still enjoy searching for rare finds the old-fashioned way. My sister, Marcy, is a very busy woman—always at the helm of her command center for communications—yet she, too, succumbs to sleuthing in bookstores and at garage sales.

This past summer, Marcy frequented the New Orleans Symphony Book Fair, a longtime treasure trove for bibliophiles in “The Big Easy.” Marcy found a winner from 1964: The Silent Miaow, a book that, according to its author, Paul Gallico, is “translated from the feline.”

Marcy purchased this charming, one-of-a-kind book for $1.50 and donated it to my Cat Lady library. It’s hard to say if I would have bought this publication as an e-book, based exclusively on the title. The delightful photographs by Suzanne Szasz, the sensitive and witty prose by the “writer-cat,” and the musty smell of the yellowed pages contribute to a memorable reading experience. The book also is inscribed in perfect penmanship, "Not that Max can learn anything from this, but thought you and Dan might."--Katharine

I like holding the physical book in my hands, and I’m not convinced that a Kindle or an iPad could capture the vintage appeal of The Silent Miaow.

In the foreword, Mr. Gallico writes that “in the very existence of this book we have a most concrete example of the manner in which at least one of these marvelous creatures, acquiring both an editor and publisher, has advanced the eventual complete feline take-over of the human race.” Right and write on!

And who can resist this photo from the book of a Cat Lady wearing a leopard top and cat’s-eye glasses as she gazes affectionately at “the author”? I love the look and know the feeling.

Query of the Day: Could your cat write a book?

Friday, September 3, 2010

The “It” Bag




I don’t own anything from the Hello Kitty line of luggage, but I would rob a bank to bring this Prada leopard-print handbag home. Anna Wintour, meet Cat Lady.

I know that Lucius, Lydia, Leo, Linus, Lillie, L.B., T.J., Perkins, Miss Tommie, and Alvar would approve of this spot-on oversized bag, which would be perfect for carrying their bags of yummy treats and cans of delectable Fancy Feast.

The leopard look is back in a huge way, although I’m not sure the look was ever out of style. The time is now for replacing my PetSmart tote bags with the new "It" bag. I truly can’t wait to make this season’s hottest fashion statement at Catland. There is only one obstacle in my way. The asking price is a cool $3,100.

Query of the Day: Will you donate to my Prada handbag fund?

Friday, August 27, 2010

The Cat Days of Summer

Now that summer is dwindling toward its end, I keep hearing people refer not-so-nostalgically to “the dog days of summer.” Naturally, there would be something wrong with me if I didn’t protest. What about “the cat days of summer”? Aren’t cats entitled to their days in the sultry sun?

I have read many official descriptions of “dog days,” and it makes perfect sense that Sirius, the “dog star,” rises and sets with the sun from early July through mid-August. But knowing as all Cat Ladies do that cats rule Planet Earth, should we circulate a petition to honor a “cat star” in the summer, too? Or are cats better suited to dominate the months of October and November?

No matter the official season, it’s easy to fall for felines and advocate for their deserved supremacy!

Sirius, move over. Lucius is orbiting and about to pounce. National Cat Day is only two months and two days away....

Query of the Day: Will you sign my petition?

Friday, August 20, 2010

Catcall



Much as I love finding well-placed double entendres in texts, I have never before come across “catcall” used in the context of a casting call for cats.

I just finished reading a book that is deservedly on the best-seller list: Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M, Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and the Dawn of the Modern Woman, by Sam Wasson. For anybody who is a Breakfast at Tiffany’s junkie, this book is a must-read. There is fascinating and brand-new information about Audrey Hepburn, Truman Capote, George Peppard, Patricia Neal, Henri Mancini (Audrey Hepburn said he was the “hippest cat”), and all of the movie’s major players, both in front of and behind the camera, including the only feline character in the film, who was aptly named “Cat.”

Buy the book and go immediately to page 116 to read all about the cats who auditioned in New York City to play the part of Holly Golightly’s orange tabby cat. The description of the casting call puts the reader right in the director’s seat, trying to determine which of the twenty-five orange cats deserved movie contracts. A twelve-pounder named Orangey won star billing (twelve cats were used "in rotation").

I haven’t yet moved into the realm of being a stage mother of our ten felines. But reading this new book made me think about our three orange boys, and whether Lucius or Leo (Linus is too diminutive) could star in a remake of the Hollywood classic.

Should Leo get the part, I could always audition Lucius for a new production of Sunset Boulevard. I can hear him now, all too well: “All right, Cat Lady, I'm ready for my close-up.”

Query of the Day: What’s your favorite feline scene from Breakfast at Tiffany’s?

Friday, August 13, 2010

Love Bites




I grew up in New Orleans and know all about vampires, thanks to Anne Rice and her best-selling series The Vampire Chronicles. Who could forget Lestat de Lioncourt, a nobleman turned vampire? I also am of the Dark Shadows vintage. Does anyone reading this blog remember dear Barnabus?

Though it has taken me a while to get up to speed with The Twilight Saga and the likes of Bella and Edward, I have heard of the actress Kristen Stewart and can easily recognize her picture on the cover of supermarket tabloids. Now, I can report on a recent finding, courtesy of a friend who spotted an item in People.

If trapped on a desert island, Ms. Stewart would designate her cat, Max, as her “must-have.”

“I’m going to be a crazy cat lady one day,” she announces in a “revelation” on a page titled “Chatter,” accompanied by a come-hither photograph of the comely actress and an inset snapshot of her orange-and-white cat. “We have a really strong, really weird codependent, almost Bella/Edward relationship.”

When you’re as young as Ms. Stewart, codependency is probably weird. For the rest of us Cat Ladies, codependency is the new normal.

I’ll take love bites from Alvar (pictured here), who has the longest fangs of our ten cats, over vampire attacks any day, any time, and in any parallel universe.

Query of the Day: Does your cat give you love bites?

Friday, August 6, 2010

Madmen and Their Cats



Long before Don Draper arrived stylishly on the scene in the TV series Mad Men, there were the original madmen…and their cats. I’m referring to the men who were crazy for felines, among other mad obsessions, and who were often confined to lunatic asylums to be cured.

While following the hype associated with this season’s Mad Men, I thought back to my freshman-year English classes at Wellesley, where I was introduced to the 18th-century English visionary Christopher Smart. To say that he worshipped his cat Jeoffry would be a gross understatement. In his famous poem Jubilate Agno, the noted madman writes of Jeoffry:

For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.

For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he's a good Cat.

For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.

For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.

Could Don Draper and his ace copywriting team have created a better campaign for advertising the virtues of cats? And the following two verses remind me of the ever-dapper and ruthless creative director, the Mad Man himself:

For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.

For he is tenacious of his point.

Don excels as a business force, and the buzz that surrounds him is palpable. I know how Christopher Smart felt when he wrote about Jeoffry, “For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.” With Lucius, the primary object of this Cat Lady’s fixation, I am shocked by a similar high-voltage force of love.

I trust that Don would approve of this snapshot of Lucius striking a pose on a vintage midcentury barstool.

Query of the Day: Do I qualify as a madwoman?

Friday, July 30, 2010

Pillow Talk



If Linus could talk, he would tell us that the highlight of his day occurs when he leaves his favorite carpet in the living room, at 7:00 p.m. precisely, to head upstairs. Pillow talk awaits.

I, too, am a creature of habit, and Linus has learned that he can always find his Cat Lady sitting cross-legged on the bed in the master bedroom, catching up on the daily newspapers and watching the nightly news (and trying to do so simultaneously). Linus eyes the pillow next to mine. He knows that the bigger pillow is reserved for my husband to sleep on, but little Linus manages to steal it first for himself, every time.

Unlike Lucius, who responds to about twenty words, Linus does not have an extensive vocabulary. Linus understands certain fundamentally feline words, of course, such as “feed” and “treat,” but no one would ever mistake him for being a wordsmith. In fact, he acts like a windup cat whenever I say “pillow” ( a slight variation on a parrot's "Polly Wants a Cracker") because he takes his position immediately on cue, tucking himself in for some shut-eye.

I’ve noticed recently that Linus has started snoring while sleeping, and I need to teach him the librarians’ famous last word: “Shhh.”

Query of the Day: Do you talk to your cats while they sleep?

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Lights, Camera, Action!



I got to blow out the bright lights of birthday candles earlier this week, and I wish someone had taken my picture to capture my surprise. Don’t get me wrong: I knew I was growing older officially on July 19, and I know I am and always will be a Cat Lady. What I didn’t know is that I would be gifted with a “Crazy Cat Lady” action figure. She’s all mine!

I’ll ruin the fun of the toy if I start quibbling about “crazy” and its placement before the term “Cat Lady.” You may remember that I have written before about being a lady who is simply crazy for cats. What toymaker would touch that phrase?

My action figure has eight cats, but I’m sure she’ll catch up with me before too long. I don’t need to wind her up like other toys on the market, so I’ll just cheer her on to adopt felines at her own, action-packed pace.

Go get 'em, you crazy cat lady!

Query of the Day: Have you ordered your action figure yet?

Monday, July 19, 2010

Honey, I’m Home!

Even though I travel infrequently, I cherish a silly ritual while I’m away from home. I tuck snapshots of each of our ten cats into my purse, and once I reach my hotel room and begin unpacking, I display the photos on the night table closest to the side of the bed on which I’ll be temporarily sleeping. Lucius commands the first position, of course, and it’s a pleasure to see his frowning face almost beside me as I awaken in a bed other than my own.

Reversing course, en route to Houston, just as soon as the food-and-drinks cart makes its way down the cramped aisle of the airplane, I breathe a sigh of relief and say to myself, “I’m coming home everybody.” I know, this part of the ritual sounds especially ridiculous. But I also know that our cats are guided by their intuitions and instincts, and that they are on full alert to expect me home on a certain day, by a certain time. Perhaps they even can tell when the plane’s wheels touch ground.

My moral dilemma arrives when I approach the door to my home. I’ve got to stroke Lucius first. “Honey, I’m home,” I announce happily while my husband watches forlornly. He retreats to play second fiddle while Lucius nearly gallops to greet me. The other cats are waiting patiently, wondering whose name I'll call next.

Lydia will be upset if I don’t give an immediate shout-out to her. But what about Leo, who has been hiding in a closet for two days, too scared to emerge when I'm not there? And I can’t wait to acknowledge the adorable Linus, the resident feline/he-man L.B, and the innocently sweet Alvar. I check on Lillie, T.J., Perkins, and Miss Tommie in the garage apartment after I have made my way through the house.

Although one of our air-conditioning compressors unexpectedly died while I was away for the past few days, I overlooked the discomfort because “there is no place like home.” Mine will always be in steamy Houston, surrounded by multiple felines, and in a special place named Catland.

Query of the Day: Do you greet your firstborn cat first?

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Family Sleep

The face of Angelina Jolie is appearing everywhere again—particularly on the covers of major consumer magazines—and the cover story of the August issue of Vanity Fair offers new insights into the actress’s life between the sheets, so to speak.

Angelina divulges that she loves “family sleep,” a time when “everybody crawls into our [that would be with Brad] bed. We had sheets specially made. …I don’t know if it’s twice as big [as a king], but it’s notably bigger. …When we had two kids, the nine-foot bed was extraordinary. With three, it was verging. Now, at six, it’s tight.”

Tell me about it, Angelina. I have hoped that I, a mere Cat Lady, would have something in common with this beautiful woman. And now I learn that our common bond relates to the number six, as in kids. Hers are famous and in the news often, and mine are furry and live far from the paparazzi’s gaze.

Sleeping with six is an uncomfortable squeeze, and my husband doesn’t even attempt to jockey for space when the kids take their places before he’s ready for lights out. Ultimately, it’s hard for me to feel sorry for Angelina’s plight because, after all, she is spared the within-earshot sounds of licking, hissing, and scratching that I hear at all hours of the night. Or maybe she would enjoy the change of scenery at Catland, where the sound of silence is a distant memory.

Query of the Day: Should I contact Angelina’s agent and invite her for a sleepover?

Friday, July 9, 2010

Tweets not Treats

If my ten cats were on Twitter …

Lucius: Just had my Fluoxetine. Feeling good.

Lydia: I’m getting ready to attack Leo now.

Leo: I hate when Lydia chases me. I prefer to sleep under the bed.

Linus: Watch out, L.B., I’m in the mood to jump you.

Lillie: I wish I could brush my own long hair.

T.J.: All this garage apartment needs is a full-time housekeeper.

Perkins: I used to want to claw my way out of our apartment. But I can’t imagine life without air-conditioning.

Miss Tommie: When I come back in my next life, I want to be a librarian.

Alvar: Did anyone say treats?

L.B. Lady Gaga was awesome on the "Today" show this morning. Wish our Cat Lady looked like her.

Query of the Day: What would your cats say on Twitter?

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Feed the Senses

I guess I watched too much TV over the past holiday weekend because I can’t get this frisky advertising jingle out of my head: “Friskies, Feed the Senses.”

The Friskies execs are taking a page from my book. If an art book is doing its job, then the reader turning the pages will feel that the soul is being nourished, the senses well fed.

I consulted with Lucius et al., and the consensus is that when it comes to a hand-to-mouth awakening of the senses, nothing beats the Friskies brand for keeping kitties satisfied.

Query of the Day: How do you feed the senses of your cats?

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Who Came First?



I can still remember that much-anticipated moment, once a week during my freshman year at Wellesley, when my favorite art-history professor would stride onto the stage in the art center's auditorium and whisper dramatically into the microphone, “May I have the first two slides, please?”

The slide projectionist accepted her cue, and reproductions of two works of art filled the big screen quickly. "Let's compare and contrast the Mondrian and the Matisse." The opportunity to study works of art--their similarities and their differences--was new and exciting, and I got hooked on the visual exercise very fast.

I think of our ten cats more as furry people than as works of art. But an advertisement in a recent issue of Antiques magazine caused me to do a double-take. I stopped flipping through the pages to examine a full-page image of a cat doorstop by Oscar Peterson, the American sculptor hailed as the “master carver of Michigan.” The cat depicted resembles Lucius on the day we found him in our backyard, crouching on the wooden deck rail. He was emaciated and wounded, and too scared to move.

As I stared at the ad, I couldn’t help but wonder if, in one of his nine lives, Lucius was an artwork carved from wood, dating to about 1930. Or did the artwork spring to life as the stray cat we named Lucius, appearing in 2000?

This weekend marks our ten-year anniversary of rescuing Lucius, who came to us first and paved the way for more cats to arrive, and even more to follow, and for eventually nine other felines to join our family.

As we celebrate our nation’s independence this coming holiday weekend, I also will commemorate the start of my new personal decade of codependence with Lucius. He will always be the first among felines, and forever joined to my hip.

Hooray!

Query of the Day: Do you, too, cherish codependence with your cats?

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Catio Man

I knew it!

I knew that my husband would enjoy the recent New York Times article about people who build “catios” for their cats, and I suppose I can’t blame him for weighing the options. Don’t get alarmed: We are only remotely considering the possibilities of expanding our feline kingdom outdoors by means of protected enclosures.

We do not live like New Yorkers in cramped spaces, although I paid my dues in the 1980s when I lived in a 325-square-foot apartment on the Upper East Side that was distinguished by an infestation of cockroaches each summer. We live in Texas, the super-sized state, and our old, rambling house in Houston is plenty big for “the eight of us” to feel comfortable inside, and in our own skins. We do not bump into each other during the night. The cats in our garage apartment lead me to believe that they feel the same way.

My husband, the newly christened Catio Man, could design a catio to be built on either side of our Arts and Crafts house, or to extend from the deck in our backyard. How many additional cats could he and I rescue to live in these custom-designed quarters? I am guessing that we could adopt another six cats, easily.

Through my work at the museum, I have had the privilege of meeting a number of top-tier architects. I wonder if I could interest one of them in designing a Frank Lloyd Wright-style catio to match the lines of our 1913 structure. Or a midcentury modern vibe would work to complement the artwork and furnishings of our “Mod Pod,” which used to be the den.

No matter the architectural style, permanent shelter for cats is all that counts for Catio Man. And even though this Cat Lady wrote many papers in college on Mies van der Rohe and his philosophy of “Less Is More,” I say bring them on, meaning more felines, of course. Let’s all live together in our feline compound, which might just include a catio or two.

Architectural Digest, here we come!

Query of the Day:
Do you already have a catio at home?

Friday, June 18, 2010

You Don’t Send Me Flowers


I used to be pleased to receive flowers at my office to celebrate a special occasion, such as a birthday or a wedding anniversary. Now I get excited when friends send me jpeg images of cats. I took in a large haul in the past few days, and one of the images jumped out of my in-box, as if to say, “Cat Lady: This Is Your Life.”

My friend Clifford sent me a link to icanhascheezburger.com, which must be reaching overflow capacity with its cute and heartwarming pictures of cats in all form and disguise. I subscribe to the theory of “life imitates art,” and when I saw the image of "Kitteh Noir," I was reminded yet again of how the process of collecting art has paralleled my efforts to rescue orphaned felines.

For the first four years of the new millennium, I did nothing but “collect cats.” During the past six years, as I have navigated and negotiated life with our ten cats, I have edited a book about the museum’s collection of American art, which has grown exponentially in a twenty-year period and continues to expand as I write. Collecting is apparently in my blood; it simply courses in different directions–cats and art.

Just as I have learned much from our cats about my own acquisitive impulses, so too have I have gained new insights from philanthropists into their motivations for collecting art and for donating their treasures to a public museum. Collecting qualifies as a feel-good endeavor.

So, go out and adopt another cat today! And please place your order to acquire the museum’s new book, American Art & Philanthropy: Twenty Years of Collecting at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, coming soon to a bookstore (not PetSmart this time) near you.

Query of the Day: Does your cat resemble a work of art?

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Contemplating “Complete”

A long-lost friend has written to me with the wonderful news that she is relocating to Chicago. Her new office will be located directly across the street from my favorite haunt, the Art Institute of Chicago, where I worked as an editor in marketing and communication services for eight years. And to think that during all of those solitary years I did not have a cat to keep me company. I can’t claim even to having possessed a sixth sense for finding stray cats and bringing them home to my one-bedroom apartment.

My friend’s message coincided with my receiving a mailing from the Anti-Cruelty Society in Chicago. A renovation is under way there, and the mailing includes excerpts from a 1982 feature story in Architectural Record that praised the then-new building designed by architect Stanley Tigerman. The magazine writer noted that Tigerman was motivated by “metaphorical suggestiveness,” designing a building that made his message clear, which is that a house is not a home without a pet. Adopting a pet will complete someone’s life.

Twenty-eight years later, I get it, and that message resounds loud and clear at the Anti-Cruelty Society. My definition of “complete” also has a double meaning. Although I am fully loaded at “Catland” with ten felines, I am always on the hunt at the museum to finalize and complete manuscripts for art books. “Incomplete” rules the day (or should I say, causes havoc) at work, whereas “complete” reigns hourly at home. I need to find a way to migrate that fulfilling feline feeling to the office and achieve 100 percent completion of my workload. Something tells me I will never come up empty at home.

Query of the Day: How do your cats complete your life?

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Everybody Dance Now!



Today is Lydia’s tenth birthday, and it’s time to get the party started! I am not the only one who celebrates the birthdays of pets. New statistics indicate that 24 percent of pet caregivers “of a certain age” commemorate the human-animal bond by means of birthday cakes, balloons, and party favors.

I recently jumped on the cupcake bandwagon, so Lydia’s party will consist of pink-frosted cupcakes, complemented by new catnip toys for her, “the orange boys,” and L.B. and Alvar.

When we first met Lydia at our neighborhood pet adoption shelter, in October 2000, she went by the name of Kirstie. She weighed less than 5 pounds and hid in the back of the carrier, far from public view. But we found her because we were destined, I think, to adopt her. She did not know what to expect when we brought her home to meet the one and only Lucius. We never could have estimated how much she has enhanced our lives.

From Day 1 at our house, Lydia was every bit the rambunctious tomboy. Of course, she looked and vocalized like a girl, but she smelled and acted like a guy. She simply could not keep still. Today, Lydia is my fair lady who weighs about 9 pounds and loves to give orders. With Lydia, there is never subtlety. On her nightly rounds, she fine-tunes her already trilling meow as she implores us to go to bed (she prefers the 9:30–10:00 p.m. time slot). During the day, she catches up on her beauty sleep. If I come home from the office for a lunch break, I always know I can look for her dozing on the bathmat in the bathroom, close to an antique mirror. That way, when she awakens, she can admire her dainty self. She does this a lot.

Lydia looks terrific for her age, especially given that she is the human equivalent of 70. Now it’s time for me to cue the music, light the birthday candles, and serenade Lydia with her favorite song.

“Everybody Dance Now!”

Query of the Day: Did you r.s.v.p. to Lydia’s birthday party?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Wellesley Girl

I was interested to hear recently that select colleges and universities in the United States are now allowing students to bring their pets from home to live with them on campus. Way back when at Wellesley, men were barely allowed to step foot inside the dormitories, where they had to respect a “knock-twice” system to give fair warning whenever entering the girls-only restrooms. These ancient statistics contribute to why it is difficult for me to imagine my still all-female alma mater “allowing” guys and cats and dogs to live with the coeds.

I wasn’t a Cat Lady at Wellesley. I studied art history and never attempted to take courses in veterinary science at Boston University, the school in closest proximity to Wellesley that offered the discipline. When I said good-bye to our cat Fluffy, at home, and entered Wellesley as a freshman, I don’t remember thinking about her much, much less pining away for her. I am not proud of this fact. Naturally, if I could turn back time, I would head for college only on the condition that Fluffy accompanied me every step of the way.

It has been thirty-two years since graduation, and if I return to Wellesley as a continuing-education student, I will need to rent a van that accommodates our four female cats, their toys, and their litter boxes. Actually, I think that one of our cats, in particular, is best suited to join the subspecies classified as a “Wellesley Girl.”

Miss Tommie has all of what I remember as being the vital ingredients. She is serious and reserved. She does not like to call attention to herself. She is attractive, but not glamorous. She never would wear tons of makeup or gaudy jewelry that clinks in the dark. She would strive to be an original, never a copycat.

And when Miss Tommie graduates from Wellesley, she will fulfill her manifest destiny and grow up to become a Cat Lady, just like her mother. How did I go from Class of ’78 to Cat Lady 24/7? That is the question that often stumps me and, I’m sure, would intrigue my former art-history professors.

Query of the Day: Would you/do you bring your cats to college?

Thursday, June 3, 2010

The Hand


Based on my daily intake of snail-mail and e-mail messages, I have concluded that the summer season will continue to heat up with renewal notices and reminders. Following the call to action that Walgreens issued to Lucius, I received a postcard from Dr. O. alerting me that it is time for Brooke to receive her yearly vaccination. Brooke, you might ask?

Last year, during the Memorial Day weekend, I found a petite brown-tabby stray cat whom I named after a friend who is an editor and an art-book publisher. The heat index that weekend was deadly already, and I worried that Brooke would not survive in such a dehydrated and fragile state. Dr. O. let me board Brooke at the veterinarian’s office at a reduced cost until I could find a permanent home for my then-latest rescue kitty. Brooke became Bella Brooke last July, when a museum colleague here lent a helping hand and adopted her. The two are living happily ever after in a spacious garage apartment, and I periodically receive glamour shots of Bella Brooke as proof positive.

Dr. O.’s postcard provided the perfect excuse for me to look at some photos that a friend had taken of Brooke. I never miss an opportunity to stoke my memories of cats I have encountered before. I remember then being struck particularly by one photo used in a flyer that I circulated to feline-friendly people.

I call this photo “The Hand” because it conjures multiple meanings. On one hand (pun intended), there is the King Kong effect–the seemingly oversized hand (and I have small hands proportionate to my 5’ height) embracing the tiny head of a darling cat. On the other hand, there is the broader, humanitarian impulse of reaching out to help others. For an editor, taking a red pencil to a manuscript, or making on-screen changes to text files qualifies as a bona-fide assist. The hand discreetly aids the writer in refining his or her true voice. The Cat Lady extends a hand to help those who technically cannot speak for themselves and articulate their desires. Perhaps the only variation on this helping-hand theme is how you define a “creature in need.”

I happen to think that cats and authors are in the same camp: They need tender loving care and our circumspect intervention, and they also crave affection from Cat Ladies and editors, respectively. In some cases, the Cat Lady and the editor merge as one living creature.

Query of the Day: How do you define a creature in need?

Friday, May 28, 2010

Organizational Skills

I heard this morning that 32 million people will hit the road during the Memorial Day weekend. I will not be among them. Because of the number of cats living at Catland, it is difficult to find someone–other than my husband—who will take care of all ten of them. As a result, a “couples vacation” is a figment of my imagination.

But I began fantasizing (well, maybe that’s too evocative a word) this morning about how I could best organize all of the cat food so that a catsitter could feed the felines with ease. I take the routine at home for granted. A scoop from a jar at the far left of the kitchen counter; two scoops from the jars in the center; and two scoops from the two jars at the right of the counter. The same pattern is in place in the garage apartment. All of the Fancy Feast cans are stacked neatly and segregated according to the cats’ morning and evening fine-dining regimes. I never consult a to-do list, I just dole out the goods.

I suppose I could tap my editorial skills and rearrange the jars of dry cat food according to alpha listings, from left to right: Dietetic Maintenance, Purina Organic, and Science Diet Light and Science Diet Sensitive Stomach. Or I could rearrange the jars according to color-coordinated themes: small food particles (terracotta brown) grouped at left, medium-size food particles (reddish brown) in the center, and large food particles (ochre-yellow) at right. Or I could leave things as they are, already organized to my liking, and continue to recite my routine in my sleep.

Query of the Day: Will you travel with your cats this weekend?

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Spontaneous Remission—Not!



Lucius has received a friendly reminder that the time has come to renew his Walgreens prescription card. In case you think I am kidding, check out the form letter signed by Walgreens’ Senior Vice President of Pharmacy Services.

If you need to buy prescription drugs for your cat, the Walgreens savings club is the way to go. With tiny insulin bottles costing $100 a pop, every penny counts.

The renewal notice coincided with my recent discovery that Lucius was avoiding his nightly dose of insulin. Gone were the evenings of his arriving on cue, eager to be poked in the butt, to put it bluntly. Much as I firmly believe that Lucius speaks to me, I couldn’t quite interpret his silent rejection of the medicine. Diabetes has ravaged his body, making him look very haggard and terribly thin. He needs insulin like many of us crave caffeine in the morning.

I called Dr. O. and shared my concerns. She explained that a very small percentage of cats go into what is termed “spontaneous remission.” Once she checked Lucius’s blood-sugar level, she confirmed that he had joined this minority. Had I not been suspicious and continued to give Lucius his insulin injections, per Dr. O’s previous orders, he would have probably overdosed and could have fallen into a diabetic coma.

That was then, several weeks ago, and this is now. Lucius’s blood-sugar level has reached the high-warning mark, and twice-daily injections are standing appointments on his schedule. I have advised Lucius to contact Walgreens immediately and to sign up for another year of helpful savings. I only wish there was a feline-only prescription club that sold certificates guaranteeing nine lives of perfect health for my special little man.

Query of the Day:
Does your cat belong to a savings club?

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Looking for Us

My sister, Marcy, gives me an annual subscription to “Kovels on Antiques and Collectibles,” a monthly newsletter for people who like to collect as well as deal and invest in antiques. In this month’s edition, Terry Kovel writes about “Fated Finds,” the objects that seem to appear out of nowhere but with a specific purpose, that is, they are searching for a new owner. She comments specifically on visiting an antiques fair and noticing a silver and citrine brooch by Ada Husted Anderson, known as “Andy,” with whom Ms. Kovel had worked long ago as a teenage counselor at a camp in Maine. Apparently, the brooch had Ms. Kovel in mind, and she obliged my taking her treasured find home to join other pieces in her jewelry collection.

I think often, and have blogged previously, about the relationship between art and antiques collectors and Cat Ladies. There are many similarities that fall into the broad category of love and obsession, and sometimes of sacrifice. The fundamental differences, at least to me, lie in the calculated moves of an owner to strategically collect and trade objects, compared with the irresistible, often unpredictable ticks of the caregiver’s heart to put compassion first above addictive instincts.

The already uncomfortable temperature here has kept stray cats out of my line of sight. I suspect they are hiding underneath cars or houses to seek shelter, or wherever they can protect themselves from the sizzling heat and oppressive humidity. But, like Ms. Kovel, who felt that fate intervened when the Andy-designed brooch appeared for sale one day, I am willing to bet that the stray cats of summer will find me, very soon.

Query of the Day: How many of your cats found you?

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Big-Name Artists, No-Name Cats





I always enjoyed reading William Safire’s “On Language” column in the New York Times, especially when he regaled readers with tales from the “Gotcha! Gang.” Editors often have a field day catching inconsistencies and pointing out glaring omissions. As an editor for art books, I focus on the language used to describe artistic creation, and a point of entry is often the title of a work of art. Perhaps something is in the water (or the meow mix) because I keep finding images of artworks whose titles leave a lot to be desired by this Cat Lady.

Pablo Picasso did not seem to have any difficulty keeping his mistresses straight, yet in this painting he apparently chose not to cite the name of the cat held by one of his mistress-muses, Dora Maar. Alice Neel’s granddaughter, Victoria, surely had named the cat she held somewhat awkwardly. We know that a calico is always female, and I wonder if the notoriously argumentative Ms. Neel disapproved of the cat’s name? Could the name have been too conventional for the nonconformist artist? And then there is the quiet image by Otsuji Kiyoji of Ishimoto Yasuhiro on the streets of Kyoto. As Mr. Ishimoto approaches the lens of his tripod camera, a nameless white cat (though wearing a collar, hence presumably belonging to someone) gazes up at the photographer studiously at work.

What’s with these big-name artists and no-name cats? Although it is impossible to rewrite history, editors and Cat Ladies can make the case for equal naming opportunities for artists and felines. Won’t you join me?

By the way, if you are interested in reading more about Alice Neel and Ishimoto Yasuhiro, the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, has recently published two major books that break new ground in presenting the respective careers of these artists. Visit www.yalebooks.com and buy your copies today! Just close your eyes when you read the captions accompanying the artworks illustrated here.

Query of the Day: Can you help me find the names of these cats?

Friday, May 14, 2010

Skating with the Felines

It’s time that Dancing with the Stars has some honest competition!

Check out L.B. ice-skating with his favorite partner, your very own Cat Lady.

Query of the Day: Do you like to shake (skate), rattle, and roll with your cats?

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Cat Lady Camouflage

No worries! I have not done an about-face and gone undercover as a Cat Lady. Quite the contrary. I’m excited because I have a new business proposition.

When I awakened this morning, I noticed that I had a new set of scratch marks front and center on my right shoulder. I was more concerned than usual because with the heat and humidity ramping up here, it’s time to move to the sleeveless-only mode for work attire. Could I wear a shirtdress to the office without colleagues whispering that I may be addicted to something other than cats?

Wouldn’t it be great if the aestheticians at Lancome or Clinique would create a concealer specifically for camouflaging markings of the Cat Lady kind? I tried to apply my undereye concealer (the kind that gives that special raccoonlike effect) to cover the scratches, and then I used another concealer that is supposed to take the red out of mosquito bites, etc. But to no avail.

I know there is a brand named Physicians Formula, which is sold at drugstores and Target. Perhaps I can convince Dr. O. to market Veterinarians Formula. In response to our cats demonstrating their love in very intense ways, Dr. O. can cater to us, the Cat Ladies of the world who long only to wear their hearts on their sleeves, and to hide their kitties’ scratches.

Query of the Day: Do your cats scratch your back or other, more visible, body parts?

Friday, May 7, 2010

Strangers in the Night

I had to travel to Atlanta unexpectedly early this week when I received the sad news that my father was hospitalized. Happily, by the time I arrived in Atlanta, my father’s condition had stabilized a bit, and over the next few days he was able to benefit from an expanded system of support.

I knew that my abrupt departure from home would alarm our cats, and I worried that Lucius, in particular, would make me pay for my absence. But I had to tuck those thoughts away as I headed for Atlanta to be near my father’s bedside.

While in Atlanta, I was comforted not only by my mother and my brother, but also by my brother’s two cats, Squash and Mathis. They are elderly felines, and poor little Squash has great difficulty walking in a straight line. She also cannot jump like in the good old days of her youth. Mathis, on the other hand, still enjoys roaming outside and searching for chipmunks (so I have been told).

I am certain that both cats picked up on my vibes of feeling sad and discombobulated. They also seemed to know that I am a Cat Lady because on the first night that I slept in the guest bedroom of my brother’s house, Squash and Mathis found me. I was delighted to place Squash on the bed, and she promptly made a beeline for my chest, where she slept for most of the night. Mathis occupied a corner of the bed. I almost felt like I was at home again, if only there had been another eight cats encircling me.

I wish to thank Squash and Mathis, initially two strangers in the night, for watching over me protectively. They kept me company as I contemplated the fragility and unpredictability of life. I am a broken record, but I will repeat that people underestimate the perceptive powers of felines. I am grateful that Squash and Mathis trusted me to be attentive to them, and they returned the favor beyond measure.

Query of the Day: How do your cats know when you are facing tough times?

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Service with a Smile



I had dinner the other night with my friend and colleague Ed, an art-book publisher who travels to Houston often. I tease him that he is the king of books in the great state of Texas because he has a knack for cornering the market in the museum-publishing world that exists in Austin, Dallas, and San Antonio as well as here in Houston. It is no wonder given Ed’s talents. Anyway, we went to Hugo’s, one of my favorite restaurants that serves authentic Mexican cuisine. The waiter approached our table with a friendly grin and introduced himself as Steve. He said, “I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

I haven’t heard this touchy-feely phrase for some time, maybe because I tend to like self-serve restaurants or brunch buffets. But I laughed when I thought about bounding down the stairs of our house early each morning, and then up the stairs to the garage apartment, to announce to our ten cats—whose mouths are wide open in anticipation of their feeding ritual—“Hello, I’m your Cat Lady. I’ll be taking care of you this morning.” I could repeat this “taking care of you” phrase each evening, and I’m good to go with it for the rest of their lives.

Lucius et al. endorse repetition, unlike picky editors who query, “perhaps vary word choice to avoid repetition?” Serving our ten cats with a smile presents a different set of challenges than when I am at the office, serving the museum’s curators behind the scenes as an advocate for their respective voices. In both cases, though, I feel fulfilled and glad that my jobs depend on the desire to help others.

Query of the Day: Do you provide service with a smile to your cats? (It is OK to frown when you find hairballs.)

Monday, April 26, 2010

Miu Miu and Meow Meow



If I had a disposable income, I would be wearing this shoe around town to strut my stuff as a card-carrying Cat Lady. The designer Miu Miu introduced a feline-print black satin shoe on the spring runway, and I could own a pair of these spiffy pumps for a cool $585. Neiman Marcus, here I come. I wish.

There is something to be said for making a fashion statement as a Cat Lady, although I wonder if my cats would reject me upon sniffing my feet and realizing that I am not wearing my trusty Docksiders.

Of course, I like to think of my group as enlightened felines, and they might add “ooh-la-la” and “très chic” to their repertoire of meows.

Query of the Day: Do you advertise your Cat Lady status on foot?

Friday, April 23, 2010

Breaking News

My husband watches “Morning Joe” religiously, and he tells me that a staff writer and videographer for Politico was breaking news yesterday—news of a different kind. Patrick Gavin wasn’t covering a political scandal or uncovering a politician’s affair. He wasn’t gossiping about the media. Instead, he was “outing himself” as a Cat Lady. Apparently Mr. Gavin has nabbed the cover of a forthcoming issue of Cat Fancy.

The “Morning Joe” anchors dug deep, turning the tables on a journalist accustomed to dealing with the movers and shakers of the nation’s capital and to probing behind the scenes of the D.C. power structure. Mika and Joe asked Mr. Gavin to divulge the number of cats with whom he keeps company. My husband missed the “Big Reveal,” but I imagine that Mr. Gavin responded, “many,” or, at least, “a few.” Or is it possible to get the cover of Cat Fancy and live with one cat instead of multiples?

Query of the Day: Would you pose for Cat Fancy?

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Those Paws Were Made for Walkin’


Did every Cat Lady exclaim “Say what?” when the news broke of Charles, a brown tabby cat who walked the 1,300 miles from his Albuquerque home to Chicago?

Charles disappeared from his home about eight months ago when his Cat Lady left to pursue volunteer work with Habitat for Humanity in New Orleans. Just last week, a staff member of the Chicago Animal Care and Control agency found Charles wandering the streets of the “City of the Big Shoulders,” as Carl Sandburg famously wrote. Because a tracking microchip was embedded between Charles’s shoulder blades, the agency was able to trace the cat to his Cat Lady in New Mexico. A kind-hearted cat lover and fellow resident of Albuquerque paid for Charles to return home in record time via the wings of American Airlines.

Among the amazing facts of this story is that Charles’s paws did not become calloused or dirty during his long and winding journey on foot. I keep hearing in my head a new version of “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’,” only now Nancy Sinatra (or Billy Ray Cyrus had a great version of the hit tune, too) sings about Charles and his apparently Teflon-strength paws.

I would love to meet Charles and congratulate him on his indomitable strength of spirit and his phenomenal physical endurance. I wonder if he knew somehow that, if he kept walking, he would cross paths eventually with a person who would walk the talk of a Cat Lady and whisk him to safety.

Here’s to you, Charles, and please: no more walkabouts!

Query of the Day: Have you ever lost your cat?

Friday, April 16, 2010

Exhibit A


I have enjoyed reading the comic strip by Bizarro for some time, and ever since I became a Cat Lady, I have noticed that Bizarro makes frequent references to the feline world. I don’t know if Bizarro is a man or a woman, but I am certain that the comic-strip artist has the heart of a cat lady.

Bizarro’s witty and wise one-liners speak volumes. If my cats could read (other than my mind), they would grab the newspaper out of my hands each morning and turn to the page featuring Bizarro’s always entertaining comics.

Take a look at a recent comic by Bizarro, which I am calling Exhibit A. I’ll let you be the judge of whether another soul mate is in our midst.

Query of the Day: What are your favorite comic strips featuring felines?

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Mommy Dearest



I recently completed a book project on John Singer Sargent and his Houston connection. Unknown to many people, Houston has the third-largest concentration (after New York and Boston) of privately held masterpieces by the artist. In his essay for the book, Richard Ormond, a great-nephew of Sargent, paints an intimate portrait of the artist who was “always on the move.” Yet Sargent was introverted in his personal life, and, according to Ormond, his “reserve and shyness went back to boyhood, perhaps the consequence of a possessive and overdominant mother.” This statement prompted me to look at myself more closely and to ask: Am I guilty of overreaching with our ten cats?

Lucius, Lydia, Lillie, Leo, T.J., Perkins, Miss Tommie, Linus, L.B., and Alvar all consider me to be their mother, at least the human replacement for their own birth mothers. I am possessive of them to a fault, but I won’t beat myself up over having deep maternal feelings for felines. I suppose you could say I am bossy when it comes to telling the cats when I will, or will not, feed them outside of their normal schedules. I often go toe to toe, or paw to paw, with Lucius to determine which one of us will win the strategic game of domination and mental supremacy.

Only Leo would qualify for wearing the mantle of being reserved and shy. The other nine cats are sociable and outgoing, and L.B. wins the prize for being extroverted. So I believe I have good reason to think positive thoughts that my personality is not like that of Sargent’s mother, and that I am not scarring our cats for their next round of nine lives.

And then there is Lydia (pictured above), the only female in our household, and as such the only one who relates to me on a mother-daughter level. She likes the smell of L’Occitane’s verbena soap and Jo Malone’s gardenia perfume, and she loves to observe me getting ready for my “other job” each morning. One of the simple pleasures of my life is watching Lydia sitting in her sphinx pose, at my feet, and gazing at me. Is it too much to hope that she thinks of me as her mommy dearest, in the truest sense of these two words?

Query of the Day: What is your parental style?

Friday, April 9, 2010

Open Door Policy



I could have sworn that I closed the door to the laundry room last night, but when I returned to begin a new load of wash, I found some unexpected little helpers. Alvar (left) and L.B. (inside the dryer) like the smell of Downey fabric softener, and they enjoy even more the feel of warm blankets fresh from tumbling in the dryer.

Of all our ten cats, Alvar and L.B. are the most intrepid explorers. They both like to open doors and cabinets at all hours of the day: Alvar gravitates to those in the bathrooms, and L.B. likes especially the cabinets in the kitchen because he knows he can find bags of kibbles and packets of treats lining the shelves. By the way, L.B. seems to have put himself on a weight-loss program and is experiencing moderate success. At his last weigh-in, he tipped the scale at 20 lbs.

I am so glad that the door to our home was open (figuratively speaking) when my husband and I first saw Alvar and L.B more than six years ago. There was still room for another two cats, as we had not yet achieved our current full-house status.

Unlike in my office environment, which has an open door policy, we do not have an official policy in place in our personal living space. Suffice it to say that our hearts remain open to helping cats, and that the door will never shut tight on them.

Query of the Day: Are your cats “Cat Lady’s Helpers”?