The Ill-Fated King Loui I with His Tracking Collar

"Er fühlt sich gerade auch gut und ist entspannt, aber das wird sich leider wieder ändern und dann werde ich ihn seine letzte Reise antreten lassen müssen, bevor er Schmerzen bekommt."
-- Nadine Biewer on August 13th

It is all over for King Loui I. The end came for the gray and brown cat on August 22nd when his owner, thirty-six-year-old Nadine Biewer, took him to an unidentified veterinarian and paid that individual to end his life.

"Manchmal muss ein König seine Krone ablegen, damit ihm Flügel wachsen konnen,!" is how that she informed the world of that heartbreaking news in an an untitled article posted that same day on the Facebook site, Aachener Campuskatze. "Gute Reise, kleiner Schatz. Ich werde dich immer lieben!!!"

Over the course of the past several years, Loui had become famous around Aachen through his almost daily visits to the sprawling urban campus of Rheinisch-Westfälische Technische Hochschule (RWTH), the Aachener Cathedral (the Dom), its museum, Domschatzkammer, and Burgerservices am Katschhof as well as numerous businesses and cafes in the Innenstadt. He additionally had attracted a large international following online that included more than six-thousand friends on Facebook as well as hundreds of others on Instagram, Twitter, and Jodel.

Although all of that is now a thing of the past, he is destined to live on in Biewer's recently published e-book, Die Fellnasenbande. Hinter dem Gartenzaun. A print edition also is in the works and that should help even more in keeping his memory alive.

The first inkling that anything had gone awry with the intrepid moggy came out of the blue on July 20th in the form of a startling and worrying article posted on Facebook. "Loui ist sehr Krank!" Biewer wrote. "Gestern Abend mussten wir als Notfalls in die Klinik nach Brand (south Aachen), weil er ununterbrochen und sehr stark aus dem Maul geblutet hat."

While he was there the attending veterinarian, tragically, discovered a growth underneath his tongue. "Er ist aber immer sehr schwach und wir können noch nicht sagen, was genau dahinter steck, ob bösartig oder behandelbar," Biewer revealed in a July 24th posting on Facebook. "Der er frisst und wesentlich 'lebendiger' wirkt, lässt mich allerdings hoffen."

In addition to being very weak and bleeding from the mouth, Loui was running a temperature and had lost five pounds. The anesthesia that the veterinarian had given him prior to examining him also caused him to stop eating and that necessitated in Biewer having to hand-feed him.

In an effort to help defray some of the costs of his escalating veterinary care, an appeal was quickly established at Crowdfunding-Aktion with the goal of raising €2000. Of that total, €1940 was soon amassed and additional funds likely came in later.

Since he had so loved his freedom, Biewer some days granted Loui supervised time outside. "Wenn er möchte, darf er auch Aufsicht ein paar Stunden nach draußen," she disclosed in a July 28th posting. "Alles was ihm Freude macht, ist erlaubt."

Loui and Nadine Biewer

On August 1st, Loui observed his seventh and last birthday but the occasion far more resembled a wake than it did a celebration. Although by that time his strength had all but dissipated, Biewer nonetheless took him over to RWTH for one last, brief visit.

"Aber der Seele hat es gutgetan und Loui hat die Sonne genossen," she later told the Aachener Zeitung on August 14th. (See "Der RWTH-Campus leidet mit 'seinem' Kater King Loui I.")


The worst was still yet to come, however, and it did not take it long to arrive. "Ich würde so gerne etwas positives berichten können, aber das kann ich leider nicht," Biewer mournfully acknowledged in an August 7th posting. "Louis Blutwerte sind so katastrophal, dass es schon an ein Wunder grenzt dass er überhaupt noch lebt."

Although weak and steadily losing ground, he bravely soldiered on as best he could until at last a visit to yet still another veterinarian, this one located in Mönchengladbach, sixty-five kilometers north of Aachen, confirmed what Biewer and his legions of fans around the world had long suspected and feared. "Trotz all der Bemühungen in den latzten Wochen wird es keine Heilung für Loui geben," Biewer revealed in an August 13th posting on Facebook. "Krebs ist einfach ein Arschloch!!"

Loui was administered a painkiller and then sent home to spend some time with Biewer and her other resident feline, Mia. "Er hat jetzt nochmal ein Cortison gespritzt bekommen, damit er sich gut fühlt und seine letzten Tage zuhause ohne Schmerzen verbringen kann," Biewer continued in the August 13th posting.

She did not, however, have any intention of allowing him to die a natural death. "Er fühlt sich gerade auch gut und ist entspannt, aber das wird sich leider wieder ändern und dann werde ich ihn seine letzte Reise antreten lassen müssen, bevor er Schmerzen bekommt," she vowed.

Even though her palaver about a "letzte Reise" sounds much more like something that would have come out of the maw of a gangster than that of a devoted cat owner, she nevertheless insisted that she was going to find it difficult to go on without him. "Ich weiß gar nicht was ich noch schreiben soll, es zerreißt mir einfach das Herz und ich kann mir ein Leben ohne ihn einfach nicht vorstellen," she concluded on August 13th.

Nothing has been disclosed concerning Loui's last days so it is impossible to speculate upon either how much discomfort he was in or how much longer he could have held out had be been treated and made comfortable. It has not even been revealed which of the many veterinarians that treated him actually committed the foul deed.

The only thing that is known for certain is that his corpse was afterwards burned to ashes. What ultimately became of them is anyone's guess.

Loui Spent Most of His Life All Alone on the Street

Despite hiring an unscrupulous veterinarian to kill off her cat, Biewer to this day is still professing her undying love for him. "Loui hat sein Leben, auch wenn es viel zu kurz war, in vollen Zügen genossen und werde von der ersten bis zur letzten Sekunde geliebt," she wrote September 2nd on Facebook. "Dieses Glück sollte jedem Tier gewährt werden!"

In addition to the patented immorality of robbing a cat of so much as one second of its all-too-brief life, Biewer's guardianship of Loui left much to be desired and that is putting the case rather mildly to say the least. In particular, each day she would carry him downstairs from her upstairs apartment at 20 Annuntiaten and transport him three-hundred-eighty-two yards or so to RWTH where she would dump him.

He therefore was left to his own devices until she picked him up again in the evening and brought him home. In order to facilitate relocating him, she forced him to wear a bulky tracking collar but even then she had difficulty keeping batteries in it.

It has been argued before but it must never be forgotten that technology does not protect cats. In fact, a reliance upon implanted microchips, tracking collars, and surveillance cameras can be detrimental to their welfare. (See Cat Defender posts of January 24, 2017, June 11, 2017, and February 22, 2017 entitled, respectively, "Tigger Is Finally Reunited with His Family Despite the Best Efforts of the Administrators of a Microchip Database to Keep Them Apart,""Katzen-Kameras Are Not Only Cruel and Inhumane but Represent an Assault Upon Cats' Liberties and Privacy," and "The Months of Unrelenting Abuse Meted Out to Elfie by a Roommate Graphically Demonstrate the Advantages as Well as the Limitations of Using Surveillance Cameras in Order to Protect Cats.")

Loui accordingly was left to the mercy of motorists, dogs, thieves, and all sorts of abusers. (See Cat Defender post of July 12, 2017 entitled "A Death Watch Has Begun for King Loui I Who Has Been Abandoned to Wander the Dangerous Streets of Aachen by His Derelict Owner and the Ingrates at RWTH.")

Biewer deliberately chose that heartless course of action in order to augment her presence online as well as to gather material for her book. For whatever it is worth, she nonetheless would have the world to believe that her abject neglect of Loui was all his idea.

"Ich habe die ganze Aufmerksamkeit nie beobsichtigt oder geplant," she averred to the Aachener Zeiting on May 27th. (See "Campuskater King Loui I stellt die Stadt auf den Kopf.") "Loui liebt einfach die Menschen, und die Menschen lieben ihn."

Even though she had collected enough material for several more books, even that did not tempt her to bring Loui home. "Stoff für viele weitere Abenteuer der Fellnasenbande habe ich jedenfalls mehr als genug," she candidly admitted to the Aachener Zeitung on May 27th.

A good case therefore could be made that the type of love that Biewer harbored in her bosom for Loui was of the distant and frosty kind that would have given any cat a bad case of the shivers even on a hot summer's day. Moreover, the picture of her that emerges from her online presence is that of an ambitious young woman who cares considerably more about gassing on social media and taking in Aachen's vibrant club scene than she ever did about Loui.

Loui Attends Class at RWTH but Doing So Was a Waste of His Time

Although the likes of PETA, shelter operators, and veterinarians would sans doute wholeheartedly endorse her killing off of Loui, it is an abuse of language to label such a heinous act as an expression of love. Im Gegenteil, what members of the species so direly need are responsible and attentive owners who are knowledgeable about the perils that they face in this world and, above, possess an abiding respect for their right to life.

The utterly worthless sods at RWTH were likewise willing participants in her abject neglect and naked exploitation of Loui. Most revealing of all, their slightly premature eulogy of him demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt that they are so self-absorbed and egotistical as to be thoroughly incapable of having any genuine regard for another living being.

"Für den Campuskater und seine Besitzerin tun uns die gesundheitlichen Entwicklungen sehr leid," Julie Goths of the Allgemeine Studierendenausschuss (AStA), a student organization, told the Aachener Zeitung in the August 14th article cited supra. "Vor allem die Fachschaften rund um das Kármán-Auditorium hatten mit King Loui einen treuen Begleiter, der immer wieder für Freude gesorgt hat. In den letzten Jahres ist er zu einer kleinen Ikone des Aachener Studi-Lebensgeworden."

Earlier this summer the former president of Penn State University in College Station, Graham Spanier, was sentenced to two months in jail for turning a blind eye to the sexual abuse of minors on campus. "He was a complete and utter failure as a leader when it mattered most," prosecuting attorney Laura Ditka told The Washington Post on June 2nd. (See "Former Penn State President Graham Spanier Sentenced to Jail for Child Endangerment in Jerry Sandusky Abuse Case.")

The abject failure of RWTH's almost forty-five-thousand students, nearly six-thousand professors, and more than thirty-three-hundred administrators to have taken steps in order to have safeguarded Loui's fragile life was a far worse offense and yet none of them have been held accountable under the law. Perhaps if rector Ernst M. Schmachtenberg were given a year in jail for malfeasance that might serve to make him a little bit more cognizant of animal welfare issues.

The school also likes to think of itself as being on the cutting edge of technology and even has adopted Zukunft denken as its high-falutin motto, but when it comes to its mistreatment and naked exploitation of Loui, and presumably other cats as well, its thinking is a product of the Stone Age.

In Deutschland verstehe man Hochschulbildung als "ein öffentliches Gut, eine Ausbildung von Fachkräften, vor der auch die öffentlichkeit profitiert," Brigitte Göbbels-Dreyling of Hochschulrektorenkonferez of Bonn bragged to Deutsche Welle of Köln on February 24th. (See "Rankine, bestimmt Attraktivität deutscher Unis.") Im angelsächsischen Raum sehe man dagegan "eher die Vorteile, die der Einzelne daraus zieht, etwa bessere Berufsaussichten und ein höheres Einkommen."

Whereas it is readily conceded that American universities are thoroughly incapable of churning out anything other than capitalists, militarists, propagandists, crooked politicians, and other assorted low-life, their German counterparts are not necessarily any great shakes. In particular, when it comes to how that they defame, abuse, and exploit cats they are all moral and intellectual retards.

Loui Sick and Not Eating

The cause of chrondrosarcoma in cats is unknown although some veterinarians suspect that there could be a connection between it and the Feline Leukemia Virus (FeLV), the Feline Immunosuppressant Virus (FIV), and long-term exposure to cigarette smoke. (See Pet MD, undated article entitled "Throat Cancer (Chrondrosarcoma) in Cats" and Vetary.com, undated article entitled "Throat Cancer in Cats.")

Presumably, Loui was vaccinated against both FeLV and FIV so that would tend to eliminate them as the culprits. Since it is not known if Biewer is a smoker or if such activity is permitted in the classrooms at RWTH that Loui used to frequent, it is impossible to pass judgement on tobacco as the possible cause of Loui's cancer.

The most obvious culprit is all the garbage that students and others at RWTH fed him. It is not known how long that Loui had been hanging out at RWTH but since the Aachener Campuskatze Facebook page has been up and running since 2010, the implication is that he spent a lion's share of his adult life on campus. Of course, it is entirely possible that Biewer has had other cats that she purposefully dumped at RWTH before she adopted Loui.

She most assuredly was well aware that the fare he was being fed at RWTH and elsewhere around town was injurious to his health. For example, she wrote in a May 29th post on Facebook that he had been sickened by eating Dönerkebab und Eis.

Later in a June 21st posting she disclosed that she had been forced to take him to a veterinarian in Kornelimüster-Walheim, located in the southern most district of the city, after he once again had been sickened after consuming an unidentified substance. Based upon those two bits of anecdotal evidence, it is entirely possible that he had been sickened numerous times over the years after consuming scraps and garbage tossed his way by the students at RWTH, the holy men at the Dom, and others.

Regardless of the exact number of times that Loui had suffered food poisoning, the failure of the attending veterinarians to have spotted the cancerous growth underneath his tongue following the poisonings in May and June is totally inexcusable and constitutes gross veterinary negligence. The most logical conclusion to be drawn from such incompetence is that the practice of veterinary medicine in Deutschland is every bit as much of a slipshod and mercenary affair as it is in both England and the Vereingten Staaten.

Given that a chrondrosarcoma can metastasize extremely rapidly, it may already have been too late in order to have saved Loui's life even if the malignancy had been found and diagnosed back in May. On the other hand, it still might have been possible at that time to have surgically removed the tumor and extended his life indefinitely.

As is the case with almost everything else in this world, it is extremely difficult to establish causality in medicine. For instance, in Loui's case his recent bouts of food poisoning could have been brought on by the presence of the tumor as opposed to vice versa.

What Will Be Mia's Schicksal?

Be that as it may, Lou's life, times, and death bear a striking resemblance to those of a fifteen-year-old ginger-colored tom named Dodger from Bridport in Dorset. Diagnosed to be suffering from a leiomyosarcoma in December of 2011, he was killed off by his owner, forty-six-year-old Fee Jeanes, in early February of the following year.

As Biewer later did with Loui, Jeanes had dumped Dodger in the street and that led to him being forced into spending the vast majority of his days and nights either at the bus station in Bridport or aboard one of First Bus's motor coaches. He accordingly was left to scrounge around for his daily bread.

"He loves it there (the bus station) because there are lots of people around and they all drop their sandwiches and pork pies," Jeanes disclosed in December of 2011. (See Cat Defender posts of January 25, 2012 and August 27, 2014 entitled, respectively, "The Innocence of Lambs: Unaware of the Dangers That Threaten His Very Existence, Dodger Charms Commuters on the Bridport to Charmouth Line" and "After Traveling for So Many Miles on the Bridport to Charmouth Bus, Dodger's Last Ride Is, Ironically, to the Vet Who Unconscionably Snuffs Out His Precious Life at the Urging of His Derelict Owner.")

Once again, there is not so much as an iota of proof that Dodger's poor diet led to the onset of stomach cancer but at the same time that does not preclude such a possibility. It nevertheless is irrefutable that cats should not be left to scavenge for their food and that is especially the case with those that reside in urban environments and are thus forced to rely upon garbage and scraps tossed their way in order to survive.

Even those that live in the wild and subsist upon whatever live prey that they are able to snare are still susceptible to either intentionally or accidentally ingesting d-CON, antifreeze, and other toxins. Plus, most of them sooner or later either starve or freeze to death during the wintertime.

It thus is axiomatic that anyone who gives so much as a hoot about the welfare of a cat is not about to entrust its sustenance to perfect strangers. That in turn leads to the supposition that both Biewer and Jeanes very well could have killed their cats through their unwillingness to take responsibility for what was fed to them.

There also is another rather revealing parallel between the two derelict owners in that it was precisely Jeanes who first contacted the media regarding Dodger's exploits. As far as it is known, however, he died long before she was able to capitalize upon his newfound notoriety.

Despite her declaration that she was going to find it difficult in order to go on without him, Biewer seems to not only have gotten over Loui's death rather quickly but is every bit as busy as bee these days. First of all, she immediately pledged to donate any funds left over from his care to the Aachener Tierheim und Tierschutzverein at Feldchen 26 and other unspecified charities devoted to the care and protection of animals.

As commendable as that was, she might have been better off holding on to those funds in that she almost immediately went back online begging for more money. The first object of her desires is to commission the building of a small bronze statue of Loui because he "vielen Menschen Hoffnung gegeben und ein Läacheln aufs Gesicht gezaubert hat," she told the Aachener Zeitung on August 23rd. (See "Treuer Begleiter: Studenten trauern um King Loui I.")

Loui Was Always the Deer in the Headlights

Her second project was to quickly establish the Vereingründung King Loui und Freunde which is designed to provide care and new homes for cats that need them as well as to sterilize those that are homeless. As of September 14th, the charity had collected €295 from fourteen donors and contributions can be made to it at www.leetchi.com/c/kingloui.

"Loui hat das geschafft, wovon korrupte Politiker nur reden können -- Menschen vereint. Menschen aller Nationalitäten und Religionen, weil er jedem unvoreingenommenen und voller Liebe entgegen getreten ist," she wrote September 2nd on Facebook. "Es wäre ihm nur gerecht, wenn man diese Liebe auch anderen Tieren zukommen lässt, die ein ähnliches Schicksal wie er und Mia hinter sich haben."

Quite understandably, it is now Mia, as opposed to Loui, who is the main focus of her life these days and the shy, brown female appears to be reveling in the attentions that are being lavished upon her. "Die Prinzessin vermisst ihren großen Freund zwar schon, aber feiert in erster Linie ihre neu gewonnene Freiheit," Biewer wrote August 28th on Facebook. "Loui ist ihr gegenüber doch reicht dominant gewesen und jetzt ist sie halt der Chef im Haus."

That last statement is a little bit difficult to believe considering that Loui was so seldom home. It also is disturbing that Biewer has tried out a red collar on Mia because that could imply that she is contemplating turning her loose in the street as a replacement for Loui.

The recent arrival of a pet stroller from a friend in London hopefully has put those plans on hold. That is especially the case given that the streets of the Innenstadt are too clogged with vehicular traffic to make it healthy for any cat to roam without a chaperon. That is especially the case given that even bicyclists and pedestrians are run down on a daily basis.

There is not any point in searching for heroes in this tragic tale because there are none to be found anywhere. If there had been any Loui, quite obviously, would still be alive today. Rather, the dramatis personae is comprised solely of a thoroughly reprehensible aggregate of naked exploiters of cats.

In following Loui's trials and tribulations over the course of the past few months he always has appeared to be much like a frightened deer in the headlights of an oncoming motorist, never knowing quite which way to turn. Regrettably, no knight in shining armor ever came to his rescue and, with the deck stacked so heavily against him, it was only a matter of time until he met his Waterloo in one form or another.

That is all water underneath the bridge now and there is absolutely nothing that can be done in order to either rectify the wrongs that were done to him or to bring him back. He is gone and it is forever.

This wicked and uncaring world keeps right on turning, however, and life goes on, at least for those who still have the stomach for it. The chief characteristic of any halfway intelligent individual is a willingness to learn from past mistakes but in this instance it most definitely cannot be said that either Biewer or RWTH have learned a blessed thing from what they did to Loui. It therefore is their destiny to continue to perpetrate the same outrageous offenses against other cats in the future just as they did against Loui.

Photos: Katharina Menne of the Aachener Zeitung (Loui with a tracking collar and with Biewer),  Facebook (Loui in the street, in bed, and looking scared), and RWTH (Loui in class).

Ernest Hemingway's Old Abode Has Stood the Test of Time

"The cats seemed to be more aware sooner of the storm coming in, and in fact when we started to round up the cats to take them inside, some of them actually ran inside, knowing it was time to take shelter. Sometimes I think they're smarter than the human beings."
-- Dave Gonzales

When Hurricane Irma roared through Key West during the early morning hours of Sunday, September 10th she brought with her two-hundred-nine kilometer winds and drenching rain. As a consequence, a good part of the world famous resort was either heavily damaged or flooded.

At 907 Whitehead Street, however, the intrepid feline residents of the Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum and their ten caretakers were not only dry but, best of all, safe and sound. In electing to attempt and ride out the category four storm, staffers at the museum openly defied a dire warning issued earlier by none other than the great novelist's granddaughter, actress Mariel Hemingway.

"I think you're wonderful and an admirable person for trying to stay there and save the cats and the house," she told the museum's seventy-two-year-old general manager, Jacqui Sands, via The Mercury News of San Jose on September 8th. (See "Mariel Hemingway to Manager at Ernest Hemingway's Key West Home: Take the Cats and Go!")"This is frightening. This hurricane is a big deal. Get in the car with the cats and take off."

Although sans doute well intended, that bit of unsolicited advice was hardly practical given that the museum is home to fifty-four cats, many of whom are polydactyls. Evacuating them therefore would have required a corresponding number of cages and at least eight to ten passenger cars.

Besides, by that time U.S. 1, the only road in and out of the Keys, was already clogged with evacuees and petrol was in short supply. Greyhound, even if it was still operating, does not allow cats on its motor coaches and there is not any train service in the Florida Keys.

Even some staffers of the museum were forced into remaining behind because they either did not have cars of their own or were unable to get a seat on a flight out of Key West International Airport. As catastrophic storms such as Katrina, Irene, Sandy, and Harvey have more than abundantly demonstrated, the United States has become so crowded that individuals who wish to flee them must make up their minds to do so almost immediately upon learning of them or otherwise hunker down and do the best that they can in order to survive.

All things considered, what the staffers decided to do was actually the wisest course of action that they could have taken not only for the sake of the cats but themselves as well. In particular, by remaining behind they were able to take full advantage of the museum's elevation at sixteen feet above sea level, the highest point on the island, and its impregnable construction.

Grace Kelly Calls the Roll of Her Fellow Felines

"I have been watching the news, and people keep talking about how low-lying the Keys are. We are not in the flood zone," the museum's curator, Dave Gonzales, afterwards pointed out to The Washington Post on September 11th. (See "Hemingway's Six-Toed Cats Survive Irma, Still Have Nine Lives.")"This is an eighteen-inch block-limestone building that has been here since 1851 and is still standing."

It therefore is safe to conclude that the old mansion has weathered quite a few hurricanes over the years. The historical record is not easily unearthed but on September 10, 1960 Hurricane Donna made landfall near Marathon, eighty-one kilometers north of Key West, where it killed one individual and injured seventy-one others. The storm also demolished five-hundred-sixty-four houses and damaged another one-thousand-three-hundred-eighty-two of them.

More recently, Hurricane Georges came shore as a category two storm in September of 1998 and Wilma roared through town on October 24, 2005. Staffers at the museum therefore knew not only what to expect but how to prepare for it.

"I think we are going to be fine," Sands confidently predicted to The Mercury News.

There also is an awful lot of truth in Gonzales' observation that houses, commercial enterprises, and public buildings constructed in the nineteenth century and the early part of the succeeding one were intended to endure throughout the ages. They remain are all the more remarkable in that the limestone and other minerals that their construction required had to be not only mined but transported long distances as well. Plus, just about all of the actual work was done, not by heavy equipment and modern machines, but rather manually.

Most of them have long ago succumbed to the wrecking ball and as a consequence there are not all that many of them left standing, but that does not alter the fact that old, decrepit-looking hotels and other properties that were constructed out of bricks, mortar, and other durable materials are often far safer than their contemporary rivals which, in most cases, have been built using synthetic and highly inflammable materials. Old buildings therefore cannot be blown down by hurricanes and any conflagrations that erupt are easily contained at their points of origin. (See Cat Defender post of July 3, 2017 entitled "Paucho Somehow Made It Out Alive of Grenfell Tower but the Fate of the Dozens of Other Cats That Resided at the High-Rise Firetrap Remain Shrouded in Secrecy.")

"This isn't our first hurricane," Gonzales defiantly added to The Mercury News."We're here to stay."

The Museum's Dedicated Staffers

None of his reassurances, however, impressed Hemingway in the least. "It's just a house," she retorted to The Mercury News."None of us likes to lose things were treasure (but) ultimately you've got to protect your life."

In spite of Gonzales' and Sands' public bravado, once push finally came to shove they were not quite willing to completely entrust their hides to either limestone or the museum's stellar track record. On September 7th they accordingly had the Reverend John C. Baker of the Basilica of St. Mary Star of the Sea at 1010 Windsor Lane to come by and bless the cats, staff, and house itself.

"We answer to a higher authority and we feel very confident the outcome for us is going to be very good," Gonzales predicted to The Washington Post.

That was good thinking on his part because it never hurts to try and appease the gods. Besides, Baker likely gave the museum a huge discount considering the circumstances.

So, after stocking up on food, water, and medicine, all that remained for staffers to do was to bring the cats inside and that proved to be a far easier task than initially expected. It also disproved the age-old notion that cats cannot be herded.

"The cats seemed to be more aware sooner of the storm coming in, and in fact when we started to round up the cats to take them inside, some of them actually ran inside, knowing it was time to take shelter," Gonzales later told the Los Angeles Times on September 11th. (See "Hemingway House and Cats Spared by Hurricane Irma.")"Sometimes I think they're smarter than the human beings."

In some ways they actually are superior beings and that is especially the case when it comes to their sense of smell. In particular, they can smell a rain storm approaching long before their human counterparts have so much as an inkling as to what is about to occur.

An Anti-Looting Sign on Duval Street

Their excellent sense of hearing likewise allows them to detect thunder and great gusts of wind long before the sound of either reaches their owners' ears. That particular ability of theirs can be a bit uncanny, however, in that the very same cat who is capable of hearing the lid being pulled off of a can of tuna from as far away as a block also can be as deaf as an adder to the entreaties of an owner sitting a few feet across the room.

They also are capable of picking up on rumblings underground that presage the arrival of earthquakes and they can sense abrupt changes in the atmospheric pressure. (See www.pethelpful.com, April 2, 2017, "Can Your Cat Predict the Weather?")

Not surprisingly, they usually are the first members of any household to detect conflagrations and gas leaks. (See Cat Defender posts of October 31, 2007, November 30, 2007, and April 23, 2007 entitled, respectively, "Bacon Shows His Appreciation and Love for His Rescuer by Awakening Her from a Burning Apartment,""Cuddles Saves a Saskatchewan Family from a Blaze in a Faulty Fireplace That Destroys Their Home," and "Winnie Saves an Indiana Family of Three from Dying of Carbon Monoxide Poisoning.")

In more recent times, cats have proven themselves to be adept at detecting the presence of diseases such as cancer. (See Cat Defender posts of April 11, 2009, March 27, 2010, and April 20, 2012 entitled, respectively, "Tiger Saves His Owner's Life by Alerting Him to a Cancerous Growth on His Left Lung,""Taken In Off the Street by a Compassionate Woman, Sumo Returns the Favor by Alerting Her to a Cancerous Growth on Her Bosom," and "Grateful for Being Provided with a Loving Home, Fidge in Turn Saves Her Mistress's Life by Alerting Her to a Malignant Growth on Her Breast.")

They additionally have demonstrated themselves to be capable of anticipating both emphysema attacks and diabetic seizures. (See Cat Defender posts of April 18, 2009, May 18, 2009, and April 21, 2012 entitled, respectively, "Blackie Stays Up Nights Monitoring His Guardian's Breathing for Emphysema Attacks,""Elijah Teaches Himself How to Detect Low Blood Sugar Levels in His Guardians and Others," and "Adopted from a Shelter Only Hours Previously, Pudding Saves His Rescuer's Life by Awakening Her from a Diabetic Seizure.")

Most amazing of all, at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island, a cat named Oscar is able to predict the arrival of the Grim Reaper with far greater accuracy than the trained physicians on staff. (See Cat Defender posts of July 30, 2007 and May 27, 2010 entitled, respectively, "A Visit from Oscar Means That the Grim Reaper Cannot Be Far Behind for the Terminally Ill at a Rhode Island Nursing Home" and "When Lovers, Friends, Health, and All Hope Have Vanished, Oscar Is There for Those Who Have No One and Nothing Left.")

As if all of that were not sufficient in order to establish them as savants, cats know a good deal more about a variety of topics that are totally beyond the grasp of humans. For instance, they are able to find their way home from great distances without the assistance of either maps and GPS or stopping along the way in order to ask directions. (See Cat Defender post of April 27, 2007 entitled "A French Chat Named Mimine Walks Eight-Hundred Kilometers in Order to Track Down the Family That Abandoned Her.")

Hairy Truman Contemplates Writing His Memoirs...

Cats additionally can tell the time of day far more accurately than either Breitling or Tag Heuer and they are especially good judges of character. For example, if a cat should develop a dislike for either a lover, roommate, or a visitor, it would be a good idea to get rid of that offending individual as quickly as possible.

Members of the species also are blessed with many admirable character traits that mankind never has seen fit to emulate. "There intelligent, peace-loving, four-footed friends -- who are without prejudice, without hate, without greed -- may someday teach us something," is how that celebrated author Lilian Jackson Braun once summed up the matter.

Once all the cats had been brought inside and accounted for, staffers boarded up the windows and doors and settled in for the long haul. "The cats are also accustomed to our voices and our care. We're comfortable with them; they're comfortable with us," Gonzales told the Los Angeles Times in the article cited supra."We love them. They love us. We all hung out last night together."

Although the staff had done all that they knew to do in order to prepare for what was to come, it would be only natural if they did not become more than a little bit anxious when Irma rattled the rafters and shook the foundation of the stately old mansion with her powerful gusts and biblical downpours. At least they had the cats for comfort.

In that respect, their plight and reliance upon something other than their own resources is reminiscent of how that a pair of men of god behaved during an earthquake that shook the Bay Area in the late 1800's. In chapter fifty-eight of his semi-autobiographical work, Roughing It, Mark Twain describes the following scene:

"The first shock brought down two or three huge organ-pipes in one of the churches. The minister, with uplifted hands, was just closing the services. He glanced up, hesitated, and said:

'However, we will omit the benediction!' -- and the next instance there was a vacancy in the atmosphere where he had stood.

After the first shock, an Oakland minister said:

'Keep your seats! There is no better place to die than this...'

And added, after the third:

'But outside is good enough!' He then skipped out at the back door."

...while an Orange Cat Is Content to Soak Up Knowledge the Easy Way

If it should have been the karma of the staffers to have perished, they could not have picked better company to have exited this vale of tears with than their loyal and loving cats. Besides, unlike the minister in Oakland, turning tail and running was hardly a viable option for them.

As things eventually turned out, Irma quickly moved on up the Florida Keys and in its wake not only was the museum still standing tall and proud but the cats and their minders had come through the terrifying ordeal without so much as a scratch. The only known casualties were running water, electricity, and Internet service.

Thanks to a backup generator, the museum's air conditioning system continued to hum along as usual. Moreover, even if it had given up the ghost the house's thick, limestone walls would have insulated it from the heat.

The remainder of Key West was not nearly so fortunate. For example, the water was said to have been hip-deep at Mallory Square, boats were overturned at Galleon Marina, and downed trees and footloose coconuts were scattered all across the city. (See the Miami Herald, September 16, 2017, "Fears Mount in Florida Keys over Damage, Possible Deaths from Hurricane Irma.")

Electrical lines also lay on the ground, traffic signs, propane tanks, and Dumpsters littered the landscape, roofs had been blown off of houses, and numerous trailers and RV had been overturned. Generally speaking, however, those structures that had been made of concrete and wood fared considerably better than their mobile counterparts.

"The good thing is everything can be repaired," fifty-three-year-old Alex Rivero told USA Today on September 13th. (See "Damage Heavy on Key West, but Booze Still Flows.")"But it's going to take months to put back together."

As it is always the case in times of natural disasters, it was the poor throughout Key West and the remainder of the one-hundred-seventy-seven kilometer chain of islands that make up the Florida Keys that bore the brunt of Irma's rage. (See The Philadelphia Inquirer, September 17, 2017, "Irma's Toll on Dreams," The Press of Atlantic City, September 15, 2017, "Irma Pushed Poor Closer to Ruin," and the Philadelphia Daily News, September 12, 2017, "Irma Leaving Big Messes Behind.")

Irma Tried Her Best but She Was Unable to Add to This Hallowed Ground

Evacuees were allowed to return to Key West on September 17th but they were told beforehand to bring with them food, water, medicine, and insect repellents. In addition to those spartan circumstances, some of them have been reduced to living in either their cars or sleeping in tents because of the extensive damage that was done to their houses.

Key West and Marathon high schools as well as Island Christian School and Sugarloaf School have been transformed into makeshift homeless shelters until at least September 28th when classes are scheduled to resume. At last report, curfews were in effect throughout the Keys and there was a heavy police presence in order to deter would-be looters. (See the Sun-Sentinel of Fort Lauderdale, September 16, 2017, "Marathon Reopens to Residents; Key West to Reopen Sunday.")

Regrettably, it has not proven possible to ascertain the fate of all the cats that were cruelly and irresponsibly left behind in Key West and throughout the Keys in order to fend for themselves. The same likewise is true for both those that are homeless as well as those that were incarcerated at shelters operated by the Florida Keys SPCA in Key West and Marathon. The city's large contingent of homeless chickens sans doute also were left to their own devices.

As far as Hemingway's cats are concerned, they are accustomed to dodging bullets. For instance, they recently survived, albeit bloodied and bruised, an almost decade long battle with the feds. (See Cat Defender posts of January 24, 2013, July 23, 2007, January 9, 2007, and August 3, 2006 entitled, respectively, "The Feds Now Have Cats and Their Owners Exactly Where They Want Them Thanks to an Outrageous Court Ruling Targeting the Hemingway Home and Museum in Key West,""A Cat Behaviorist Is Summoned to Key West in Order to Help Determine the Fate of Hemingway's Polydactyls,""Papa Hemingway's Polydactyl Cats Face New Threats from Both the USDA and Their Caretakers," and "The USDA Fines the Hemingway Memorial in Key West $200 a Day for Exhibiting Papa's Polydactyl Cats Without a License.")

Last year Martha Gellhorn was jailed after she became involved in a physical altercation with a visitor to the museum. (See Cat Defender post of June 5, 2017 entitled "Martha Gellhorn Is Locked Up for Ten Days after Biting a Tourist in the Latest Calamity to Befall Ernest Hemingway's Star-Crossed Polydactyls.")

As of yesterday, the museum was still closed to the public but, according to its Facebook page, it hopes to reopen soon. In the meantime the cats are enjoying a well deserved respite from the throngs of grasping tourists who invade their cherished home every day of the week much like a horde of hungry locusts in search of a good feed.

As they have demonstrated through their ability to withstand whatever Mother Nature, the feds, and other enemies of the species are able to throw at them, the cats are true survivors in every sense of that word. If against all odds the spirit does in fact endure, Papa Hemingway surely must be extremely proud of them.

Photos: Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum (house and Hairy Truman), Facebook (Grace Kelly and staffers), Trevor Hughes of USA Today (anti-looting sign), and Trip Advisor (orange cat and the museum's cemetery).

The Handsome and Dynamic Jordan

"I do miss him. He was a constant and it was very sad to lose both a lovely animal and this character that had developed. There are other cats but none with quite his character."
-- author and student Alex Howard

Fame and fortune are said to be fleeting but their transitoriness is nothing compared to the life and times of a cat and that is especially the case with those that are cruelly and irresponsibly turned loose by their derelict owners in order to eke out meager, rough and tumble, existences in the street. For the latter, their tenures upon this earth often can be measured in terms of days and months, if not indeed by a stopwatch.

Thus was it the case with a handsome ten-year-old tuxedo named Jordan from Edinburgh. Absolutely nothing has been publicly disclosed about his birth but if his good looks and exemplary health are any guide he most likely came from good genetic stock as well as a domestic setting.

As far as the public record is concerned, his life began sometime in 2006 when he was adopted as a kitten by Father Dermot Morrin of St. Albert's Catholic Chaplaincy at 23-24 George Square. The Dominican friar in turn named him in honor of Jordan of Saxony who died at age forty-seven in 1237 in a shipwreck near Syria on a return visit from Palestine. Later in 1825, he was beautified by Pope Leo XII.

As far as it is known, nothing out of the ordinary occurred during the first eight years of Jordan's life but all of that changed abruptly in 2014 when he wandered across the square to the University of Edinburgh's main library where he ventured inside. The specifics of how that came about never have been divulged but the most obvious explanation would be that he was helped inside by an obliging student.

From that moment on it did not take him long to become a permanent fixture at the library which was founded in 1580 and boasts a collection of two and one-half million volumes. The institution's siren call seems to have been its comfortable sleeping chairs and the attentions lavished on him by the students.

"He is really popular. He has been coming in for at least a year," thirty-seven-year-old Caroline Stirling of the library's Help Desk told the Edinburgh Evening News on December 11, 2014. (See "Edinburgh University Give (sic) Library Card to Cat.")"He just tends to come in and sleep on the chairs near the door. I think everyone quite likes him."

That certainly was the case with twenty-two-year-old student Heii Karjalainen. "Everyone knows Jordan. It's lovely how he is always in those seats inside the library," she testified to the Edinburgh Evening News."It's like stress relief. He's like the substitute for my cat at home in Finland."

Morrin wholeheartedly concurred. "You have a lot of international students here and the appeal of the cat is domestic. It makes them feel more at home," he told the Edinburgh Evening News."The students say its (sic) stress relieving because he's in the library when they study."

One thing led to another and eventually staffers took it upon themselves to issue him his very own library card. "External users can use the library -- he has his own reference card," Stirling explained to the Edinburgh Evening News."Someone at the Help Desk made up the card with the photo. He doesn't have to have it with him when he comes in."

After the local media had gotten wind of that unusual and perhaps novel development the story went viral on the Internet and that magically transformed Jordan into an international star. A Facebook page established by twenty-seven-year-old graduate student Alex Howard entitled "Library Cat" soon attracted six-thousand-one-hundred followers and that cemented Jordan's acclaim.

His newfound fame did not do him one iota of good, however, and it even could be argued in hindsight that it only served to grease the skids for his eventual downfall. The first nail to be driven into his awaiting coffin came in early 2015 when an unidentified individual posted a notice on social media claiming that he had been run down and killed by a hit-and-run motorist.

Jordan's Library Card

"Library Cat better not be dead," one student protested to The Mirror of London on February 12, 2015. (See "Edinburgh University Library Cat: Jordan's Owner Tweets to Scotch Rumor That 'Cult Hero' Library Moggie Has Died.")"I don't think I could cope with that."

"These rumors that the Library Cat is dead are too much for me right now," another unidentified student declared.

Mercifully, that rumor turned out to have been unfounded. "There was a rumor started somewhere but it's completely untrue," Morrin informed The Mirror."Jordan is absolutely fine."

That unnerving experience should have served as a wake-up call for Morrin, staffers at the library, and the student body in general but none of them were concerned enough about Jordan's personal safety to have taken any proactive measures and that in itself stands as a stinging indictment of all of these allegedly holy and intellectual individuals. First of all, they should have immediately introduced concrete measures designed to have ensured his safety, including the assignment of minders to have watched over him whenever he was outside either the friary or the library.

Secondly, the hoaxer should have been tracked down and identified. Considering that a place like the University of Edinburgh attracts all sorts of computer geeks and hackers that task should have been a piece of cake.

The incident was soon forgotten and as far as it is known the remainder of 2015 passed without further incidents of that sort. On Sunday, March 13th of the following year, however, Jordan vanished for good without leaving behind so much as a trace.

It is difficult to say with any certainty, but apparently no one initially even so much as cared one whit that he had disappeared. Most reprehensibly of all, it was not until nine days later on March 22nd that the university's press office was able to screw up enough concern to even send out a notice on Twitter informing the campus community that he was missing and to request its assistance in locating him.

By that time it was way too late and, as far as it is known, the only response that the press office received came a day later from student Sean Sweeney who claimed that there had been several sightings of Jordan in the Sciences and Causewayside area. Those reports, like the earlier hoax, almost certainly were erroneous because it is highly unlikely that Jordan would have stayed away from both the monastery and the library for that length of time, especially if he were still footloose and on the street. It could have been an entirely different matter, however, if someone had been providing him with food and shelter.

"Come back, Library Cat!" student Louise Krüger told the BBC on March 23rd. (See "Edinburgh University's Famous Library Cat 'Missing'.") "There's no way I can get through these final essays without you and your sassy face."

"I hope you've just found a girlfriend, Library Cat, or hanging out with your mates," student Natalia Sokolova wistfully mused to the BBC. "Do let us know you are okay. The last thing we need is to lose you."

In his role as Jordan's owner, the responsibility for his care and personal safety fell squarely upon the shoulders of Morrin but all indications are that he abdicated that solemn duty as soon as his cat took up at the library. "He ignores us when he sees us in the square," he confessed to the Edinburgh Evening News in the article cited supra."He ignores us indoors as well unless he wants feeding."

Jordan Is Helped Inside the Library by a Student

That admission alone speaks volumes for Morrin and the three other friars who live with him at the monastery but it is anything but flattering reading. Most obviously, cats that are valued, loved, and treated well want to spend time at home with their doting owners instead of wandering the godforsaken and perilous streets.

It has not been divulged if Jordan returned home nights in order to sleep and to escape the elements and the dreadful eighteen hours of darkness that envelope the city during the winter months. He also likely frequented other shops and residences in the area but none of them have been publicly identified.

It accordingly is fair to surmise that there was something sorely amiss with the way that Morrin and his brethren treated Jordan. Whether intentional or not, they are responsible for his disappearance and, in all likelihood, premature death. The mere fact that he disappeared on Sunday when the monastery is packed with worshipers but attendance is light at the library could be significant.

The clergymen's abject neglect of Jordan is certainly nothing new in that the Catholic Church has a long and checkered history of abusing and defaming cats. For example, in 1233 Pope Gregory IX declared black cats to be satanic in his papal bull entitled Vox in Rama.

Later in the fifteenth century, Pope Innocent VIII issued his infamous witch bull wherein he declared that all cat worshipers and, by implication, cats themselves should be disposed of via the auto-da-fé. Ieper to this very day still glories in those atrocities. (See Cat Defender posts of May 22, 2006 and August 6, 2009 entitled, respectively, "Belgian Ritual of Tossing Stuffed Cats from the Belfry Makes a Jest of the Hideous Crimes of Capitalists and Catholics" and "Unrepentant and Totally Shameless, Ieper Once Again Makes a Mockery of Its Past Crimes Against Cats by Staging Kattenstoet.")

The Catholics certainly do not stand alone in their crimes against the species in that their Protestant allies have been, and continue to be, almost as criminal and ruthless in their treatment of them. (See Cat Defender posts of July 30, 2009, May 1, 2010, August 8, 2012, and January 10, 2014 entitled, respectively, "Ferals Living at a Baltimore Church Find Out the Hard Way That Hatred of Cats Is Every Bit as Christian as Unleavened Bread and Cheap Wine,""When It Comes to Cats, Acts of Faith Count for Absolutely Nothing with the Good Christians of Northside Baptist,""Polygamists Condemn Thomas to a Long and Excruciatingly Painful Death by Burying Him Up to His Tiny Neck Inside a Steel Post Filled with Wet Concrete," and "A Texas Judge Idiotically Allows Pastor Rick Bartlett to Get Away with Stealing and Killing Moody but a Civil Court May Yet Hold Him Accountable.")

All of the Christians' naked abuse and exploitation of cats and other animals originally was sanctioned by the Jews in Genesis I:26,28, Acts X:13, and elsewhere in the  Bible. Tant pis, they still think and behave that way today as evidenced by the tens of thousands of defenseless chickens that they sacrifice each Yom Kippur in a ceremony known as Kaparot.

In his encyclical on climate change entitled "Laudato Si. On Our Care of Our Common Home," released on May 24, 2015, Jorge Mario Bergoglio signaled the Catholic Church's readiness to move away from the Dominion Mandate of Genesis. So far, however, the only action that he has taken has been to open a McDonald's at St. Peter's Basilica. (See the Chicago Tribune, January 3, 2017, "McDonald's Heads to the Vatican, but Not Everyone's Lovin' It.")

In return for that dastardly sellout of the animals, the Bergoglio and the Vatican are receiving US$31,000 a month in rent. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

What, if anything, was done in order to locate Jordan is a subject that, inexplicably, has not been broached by either local or social media. First of all, it would be good to know if Morrin even so much as bothered to file a lost cat report with either the Security Section on campus or the Gayfield Square office of Police Scotland. If so, how long did it take him to get around to doing so?

Secondly, since both the campus and the monastery undoubtedly are ringed by multiple surveillance cameras, the footage recorded by them on March 13th the days immediately thereafter should have been meticulously gone over with a fine-tooth comb. Thirdly, the Edinburgh Dog and Cat Home at 26 Seafield Road East, the Edinburgh Cat Protection League at 3 Casselbank Street, and the Scottish SPCA and the Edinburgh and Lothians Animal Rescue and Rehoming Center, both located on Mansfield Road in the Balerno section of town, should have been immediately contacted and alerted to Jordan's disappearance.

Jordan and Father Dermot Morrin

Fourthly, both Morrin and the library should have blanketed the entire campus and surrounding areas with Lost Cat posters that showcased Jordan's handsome face. Fifthly, Morrin, the university, and Howard should have offered substantial rewards for Jordan's safe return.

For his part, Howard claims to have attempted to locate him but he does not specify either how much time, effort, or expense that he put into that effort. "I was going all around the places where he had been sighted, holding out treats to try and find him," he told STV-News of Edinburgh on July 3, 2016. (See "The Mysterious Disappearance of Edinburgh University's Library Cat.")"I was worried he was trapped in a shed or something and couldn't get out or I had the horrible thought that someone had been cruel to him."

His first concern is a very distinct possibility in that a ten-year-old tuxedo named Emmy from Torquay in Devon barely survived being trapped inside a storage shed for nine weeks back in 2007. (See Cat Defender post of January 23, 2008 entitled "Emmy Survives Being Locked in an Outdoor Storage Shed for Nine Weeks Without Either Food or Water.")

He likewise could have become trapped inside either a vehicle or a shipping container and therefore either starved to death en route or wound up halfway across the world. (See Cat Defender post of December 12, 2005 entitled "An Adventurous Wisconsin Cat Named Emily Makes an Unscheduled Trip to France in the Hold of a Cargo Ship.")

He also could have been killed by a dog or some other animal, met with foul play, or been poisoned. Although he was not all that old and seemed to be in excellent health, it nonetheless is always possible that he could have become suddenly ill and crawled off somewhere and died.

The greatest single threat that footloose cats everywhere face comes from motorists, however, and he therefore easily could have been mowed down by one of them. The petit fait that such a violent end had been envisioned for him a year earlier constitutes proof that disposing of Jordan in such a hideous fashion had at the very least crossed someone's diseased gourd.

Jordan's killer then could have surreptitiously disposed of his body and no one would have been any the wiser. It happens all the time and even the police sometimes engage in such abhorrent conduct. (See Cat Defender post of June 18, 2015 entitled "Harry Is Run Down and Killed by a Pair of Derbyshire Police Officers Who Then Steal and Dispose of His Body in an Amateurish Attempt to Cover Up Their Heinous Crime.")

The strongest of all possibilities is that he was stolen. Under such a scenario, he could be either still living in Edinburgh but is either being denied access to the great outdoors or has been spirited out of the city to parts unknown.

No one therefore ever will know what has happened to him unless he either risks his life by somehow escaping or he turns up at either a shelter or a veterinarian's office. (See Cat Defender posts of February 8, 2017 and August 26, 2015 entitled, respectively, "The Long and Hopelessly Frustrating Search for the Kidnapped Mr. Cheeky Ends Tragically Underneath the Wheels of a Hit-and-Run Motorist" and "A Myriad of Cruel and Unforgivable Abandonments, a Chinese Puzzle, and Finally the Handing Down and Carrying Out of a Death Sentence Spell the End for Long-Suffering and Peripatetic Tigger.")

The last possibility would only come into play if Morrin had previously had him microchipped. He does not appear to be wearing a collar in photographs taken of him but even if he had been outfitted with one anyone bold enough to have stolen him certainly would possess the prerequisite bon sens to remove it.

"...the unfortunate feline species seemed to be fair game for every kind of cruelty and neglect," Scottish veterinarian and author James Herriot opined in his 1994 volume, Cat Stories."They shot cats, threw things at them and set their dogs on them for fun."

Jordan and Alex Howard in Happier Days

Almost any mischief therefore could have befallen Jordan. It is just a hunch and nothing more but based upon the observation that most homicide victims knew their killers, it would seem likely that someone connected to either the monastery or the library is responsible for Jordan's disappearance.

One of the queerest aspects of this entire matter has been how that almost everyone connected to Jordan in either one way or the other has all but forgotten about him. For example, almost nothing has been written concerning his disappearance on Howard's Facebook page. The campus rag, The Student, likewise has been mum on the subject and the BBC devoted only seven slim paragraphs to his demise.

Furthermore, no ads calling for his safe return have appeared on either local television or radio. It almost seems as if even so much as mentioning his name has become verboten with a complete media blackout added in for good measure.

One possible explanation very well could be that simply no one cares that he is gone. Another reason could be that since he is gone he is no longer of any public relations and economic value to anyone and therefore he has been unceremoniously consigned to the dust bin of history. A far more sinister conclusion would be that someone is hiding something.

The one notable exception to that epidemic of collective amnesia has been Howard. "I do miss him. He was a constant and it was very sad to lose both a lovely animal and this character that had developed," he told STV-News. "There are other cats but none with quite his character."

Unlike seemingly everyone else, he at last report had not yet thrown in the towel on Jordan. "It's been over three months but I still hope he'll return," he averred to STV-News.

Although there is not any obvious reason to question his sincerity, he could nevertheless have both professional as well as economic motivations for remaining steadfast. In addition to his very successful Facebook page, in April of 2016 Black and White Publishing of Edinburgh printed his new tome about Jordan entitled Library Cat: The Observations of a Thinking Cat.

He is even contemplating additional books along that same line. "I have thoughts about follow-up Library Cat books," he acknowledged to STV-News. "I love the thought of Library Cat's nine lives and where be might be now."

If so, he certainly will not suffer from any shortage of material in that a new cat has shown up on campus. It is white in color with splotches of brown and is believed to be a female.

The first known mention of her occurred on October 24th of last year on Howard's Facebook page. "Apparently, there appears to be a 'new' library cat," an unidentified user wrote. "Anyone know anything about him-her? Appeared last Friday (October 21st)."

She is known around campus as Library Cat 2.0 and, unlike Jordan, she also is known to attend classes. Neither her real name nor where she resides have been divulged.

Howard's New Tome

Most disturbing of all, it is not known who, if anyone, is responsible for her care and personal safety. The college collectively failed Jordan and that in all likelihood cost him his life and now it is all set to commit the same unpardonable transgression against Library Cat 2.0.

The mere fact that a sleazy degree mill such as the University of Edinburgh is allowed by the authorities to get away with its abject exploitation, neglect, and abuse of cats like Jordan and Library Cat 2.0 is all the more reprehensible given that a growing body of damning evidence already exists that college campuses are extremely unhealthy, and often lethal, environments for them. For instance, students at the University of St. Andrews, eighty-five kilometers north of Edinburgh, allowed Hamish McHamish to sleep in the street for fourteen years without doing anything in order to relieve his desperate plight other than to occasionally provide him with a bed for the night.

The high-strutting professors and stingy administrators at the school were too cheap and uncaring to even have done that much for him. (See Cat Defender posts of June 20, 2014 and October 18, 2014 entitled, respectively, "St. Andrews Honors Hamish McHamish with a Bronze Statue but Does Not Have the Decency, Love, and Compassion in Order to Provide Him with a Warm, Secure, and Permanent Home" and "Hamish McHamish's Derelict Owner Reenters His Life after Fourteen Years of Abject Neglect only to Have Him Killed Off after He Contracts a Preeminently Treatable Common Cold.")

At Plymouth College of Art in Devon, students, teachers, and staffers took everything that the truly beautiful PCAT had to give for more than a decade without returning anything to her other than the notable exception of an unheated kennel where she could sleep. Most outrageous of all, these miserable slimeballs allowed a hit-and-run motorist to snuff out her life in October of 2012. (See Cat Defender post of November 21, 2012 entitled "Officials at Plymouth College of Art Should Be Charged with Gross Negligence and Animal Cruelty in the Tragic Death of the School's Longtime Resident Feline, PCAT.")

At Texas A&M University in College Station, an elderly ten to thirteen year old cat named Bisbee was not treated all that much better. Most notably, he was allowed to wander off and die alone in a crawl space at the Biological Sciences Building East.

The Aggie Feral Cat Alliance of Texas, made up of students, professors, and administrators, did at least have the decency to build him a maroon-colored shelter and to feed, water, and medicate him. (See Cat Defender post of October 15, 2012 entitled "Texas A&M Ushers In a New Academic Year but Things Are Just Not Quite the Same Without Its Beloved Bisbee.")

When a wealthy alumnus died and left Juniata College in Huntingdon millions, the school's grasping administrators quickly gobbled up the loot but they wanted no part of his cat, Princess. (See Cat Defender post of June 9, 2008 entitled "Pennsylvania College Greedily Snatches Up Alumnus' Multimillion Dollar Bequest but Turns Away His Cat, Princess.")

Only recently at Rheinisch Westfälische Technische Hochschule in Aachen, students, faculty, and administrators willingly colluded with Nadine Biewer as she knowingly exposed her cat, King Loui I, to all sorts of dangers so that she, like Howard, could author a book as well as establish a popular Facebook page about him. (See Cat Defender posts of July 12, 2007 and September 15, 2017 entitled, respectively, "A Death Watch Has Begun for King Loui I Who Has Been Abandoned to Wander the Dangerous Streets of Aachen by His Derelict Owner and the Ingrates at RWTH" and "King Loui I's Days of Roaming the Perilous Streets of Aachen Come to a Sad End Shortly after He Is Diagnosed with Inoperable Throat Cancer.")

In all of those cases, no moral and legal ties ever were established between the schools and their pet cats. The former merely took what they wanted from them without any regard whatsoever for the latter's well-being and personal safety. Like morality, even sentimentality is the exclusive preserve for the few; most people in this world are only in it for what they can get.

As abominable as they mistreat pet cats, universities are even crueler to those that are truly homeless. (See Cat Defender posts of September 11, 2006, February 12, 2007, and July 31, 2008 entitled, respectively, "Selfish and Brutal Eggheads at Central Michigan University Target a Colony of Feral Cats for Defamation and Eradication,""God-Fearing Baptists at Eastern University Kill Off Their Feral Cats on the Sly while Students Are Away on Christmas Break," and " Cal State Long Beach Is Using the Presence of Coyotes as a Pretext in Order to Get Rid of Its Feral Cats.")

Most of them hate cats with such a vengeance that they simply cannot abide the presence of anyone who shows them even the tiniest bit of kindness. That in turn is why that Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, axed John Beck. (See Cat Defender post of June 14, 2006 entitled "Kindhearted Dairyman Sacked for Feeding Feral Cats, Files a $20 Million Lawsuit Against Cornell University.")

The Newcomer, Library Cat 2.0

Many of these reprehensible, scumbag degree mills employ armies of vivisectors who torture and kill millions of defenseless cats and other animals each year in the course of their worthless and totally bogus research. In the United Kingdom, for example, forty-three per cent of all laboratory testing done on animals is conducted at its universities.

Specifically, during 2013 vivisectors at the University of Edinburgh cut up two-hundred-forty-one-thousand animals and that equates to a staggering six-hundred-sixty of them each day of the year. (See the BBC, March 9, 2015, "Edinburgh University Tops Animal Testing League Table.")

Included in that total were sans doute dozens if not indeed hundreds of cats. For example in 2006 the school's Danielle Gunn-Moore killed and cut up at least nineteen of them while studying Alzheimer's. (See Cat Defender post of December 12, 2006 entitled "A New Breakthrough in Feline Dementia Research May Actually End Up Killing More Cats Than It Saves.")

More recently, researchers at the University of Edinburgh have been busy suturing shut the eyelids of newborn kittens, performing brain surgeries on them, and then anesthetizing and paralyzing them with drugs in order to prevent them from moving and breathing as part of their investigations into amblyopia. (See the Daily Mail, June 2, 2014, "Kittens' Skulls Cracked Open and Electrodes Inserted into Their Brains in Shocking Series of Experiments at Nine United Kingdom Universities Including Cambridge.")

The vivisectors' devilry raises the specter that Jordan very easily could have been snatched off the street by one of them. After all, such monstrous crimes have been perpetrated countless times before.

For example, when former Senate Majority Leader William Harrison Frist Sr., a Republican from Tennessee, was studying medicine at Harvard University he routinely adopted cats from local shelters under the pretext of providing them with good homes only to take them back to his laboratory where he subsequently tortured them to death. "It was a heinous and dishonest thing to do," he later admitted to the Boston Globe Magazine on October 27, 2002. (See "First Responder.") "I was going a little crazy."

Yet, in spite of that candid admission he was allowed to get away scot-free with his diabolical crimes. If by any chance either Morrin, Howard, or anyone else in Edinburgh should still be interested in finding out what happened to Jordan, an inquiry into the comings and goings of the school's vivisectors would not be a bad place to start.

When the schoolmen are not actually torturing and killing cats in their laboratories, they usually can be found developing extermination methodologies to be used against them in the field. (See Cat Defender post of November 18, 2016 entitled "A Clever Devil at the University of Adelaide Boasts That He Has Discovered the Achilles' Heel of Cats with His Invention of Robotic Grooming Traps as the Thoroughly Evil Australians' All-Out War Against the Species Enters Its Final Stages.")

Even though their veterinary schools are the beneficiaries of millions of dollars in welfare money each year, none of them will lift so much as a finger in order to save the life of a cat without funds. (See Cat Defender post of March 19, 2014 entitled "Cheap and Greedy Moral Degenerates at PennVet Extend Their Warmest Christmas Greetings to an Impecunious, but Preeminently Treatable, Cat Via a Jab of Sodium Pentobarbital.")

At the Danish School of Journalism in Aarhus, students even go so far as to eat cats. (See Cat Defender post of August 25, 2008 entitled "Danish Journalism Students Procure the Corpse of a Murdered Cat and Then Skin, Cook, and Eat It in Order to Promote Their Careers.")

Gone but Not Completely Forgotten, Jordan's Image Is Flashed on a Screen

When the professors are not actively engaged in killing cats in one fashion or another they are busily devoting the lion's share of their time and energy paving the way for ornithologists, wildlife biologists, and other ailurophobes to do so by churning out volume after volume of defamatory lies against the species. (See Cat Defender posts of July 18, 2011 and March 3, 2006 entitled, respectively, "Evil Professors Have Transformed College Campuses into Hotbeds of Hatred Where Cats Routinely Are Vilified, Horribly Abused, and Systematically Killed" and "A Cat Hating Professor at UC-Davis and the BBC Call for the Extermination of Seventy-Eight-Million Feral Felines.")

The long and the short of the matter is that cats cannot take care of themselves, especially in a world that is so antagonistic toward them. The average cat possesses the intellectual development of a four-year-old child and absolutely no one would turn one of them loose in the world to fend for itself.

Yet, researchers at the University of Lincoln stubbornly maintain that cats can take care of themselves. (See Cat Defender post of October 9, 2015 entitled "A Lynch Mob Comprised of Dishonest Eggheads from the University of Lincoln Issues Another Scurrilous Broadside Against Cats by Declaring That They Do Not Need Guardians in Order to Safeguard Their Fragile Lives.")

What lies at the bottom of such thinking and behavior is the intellectuals' fervent, but nonetheless erroneous, belief that the lives of cats are markedly inferior to their own and therefore patently unworthy of both respect and safeguarding. Even so much as a cursory examination of how that the former behaves reveals the fallacy of their thinking.

First of all, they cheat students and the government out of trillions of dollars each year. Secondly, instead of dispensing the accumulated knowledge of the millenniums, they substitute self-serving indoctrination and propaganda.

Thirdly, they are thoroughly incapable of producing any moral improvement in their acolytes. Socrates once asked the Sophists whose lives that they had improved and that question is every bit as relevant today as it was back then.

Fourthly, they pimp and whore for precisely those groups and individuals that are hellbent upon extinguishing life on this planet, such as the militarists, animal killers, and the despisers of Mother Earth. Fifthly, their corrupt athletic programs are nothing short of an absolute disgrace. (See Mike McIntire, "Champions Way: Football, Florida, and the Lost Soul of College Sports," published by Norton on September 5th.)

In conclusion, this world likely has not only seen the last of Jordan but no one ever will know, barring a coup du ciel, what actually happened to him. So, like their colleagues all over the world, the big brains at the University of Edinburgh have gotten away with another outrageous offense against a cat.

Believing themselves to be beyond all moral and legal constraints, the eggheads are too self-satisfied with their positions and power to ever endeavor to tap their gnarled toes to a new beat and as a consequence they never will change their thinking and behavior. The only remaining consideration is how long that humanity is going to be willing to suffer the impudence of these colossal charlatans and fraudsters.

In his much celebrated Devil's Dictionary, Ambrose Bierce defines a lecturer as "one with his hand in your pocket, his tongue in your ear and his faith in your patience." The only glimmer of hope therefore lies in the realization that, in at least some quarters, patience with these puffed-up buffoons has all but run out.

Photos: Carbonated TV (Jordan), the Edinburgh Evening News (library card), STV-News (Jordan entering the library), The Mirror (Jordan and Morrin), Alex Howard (Jordan and him), Amazon (book jacket), and Facebook (Library Cat 2.0 and Jordan's image on a screen at the library).

Salem at the Sanctuary's Country Store

"Our love for Salem has no deadline. There is no statute of limitations on the worry or on our responsibility to do everything we can to locate our long-lost friend who was given no choice in the matter when she suddenly found herself away from the only home she had ever known where her family -- including her twin sister and kitty soul mate, Sabrina -- loves and misses her."
-- Lorene Eriksen

All too many individuals look upon cats in much the same manner as they do wearing apparel and other accessories. C'est-à-dire, as soon as they become either worn, elderly, sickly, or are simply no longer wanted they get rid of them as quickly as possible and acquire replacements.

That same callous attitude applies in large part to those that disappear in that they likewise are soon forgotten. At the Lewis Oliver Farm Sanctuary in Northport Village on the North Shore of Long Island, however, the love that staffers hold in their hearts for a petit black female named Salem lives on to this very day in spite of the fact that she mysteriously disappeared on August 14, 2014. "Three years ago today our funny, sweet and sassy little friend abruptly vanished from our lives taking with her all her crazy antics, her larger-than-life personality, and a piece of our hearts," the farm's barn manager Lorene Eriksen wrote August 14th of this year on the sanctuary's Facebook page.

Not only is her love for Salem still very much alive but so, too, are her efforts to locate her. "While we don't need a date on the calendar to be reminded of Salem, we ask that you help us remind everyone that we will always be searching, worrying, and missing her by sharing this post and her story by visiting Salem's page, www.Facebook.com/lostcatsalem."

This enduring love story began sometime in 2007 when Eriksen rescued the seven-pound kitten and her twin sister, Sabrina, from a colony of homeless cats. She then brought them to live at the farm, which has been in operation since the 1800's, where they joined Annabelle the cow, Tiny the pig, a pair of alpacas known as Ezra and Onyx, and an undisclosed number of goats, sheep, geese, chickens, ducks, turkeys, peacocks, rabbits and, of course, cats.

The farm was privately owned until 2007 when it was taken over by the town of Huntington, of which Northport is a part, and surrounding Suffolk County. Eriksen is a member of a group of volunteers collectively known as Friends of the Farm who not only attend to the animals' daily needs but also raise money for their food, shelter, veterinary care, and other requirements.

The specifics have not been publicly divulged, but apparently Salem lived in a barn on the property without incident for seven years before she disappeared into thin air. In an all-out effort to locate her, Eriksen issued an Amber Alert, canvassed door-to-door, blanketed the neighborhood with Lost Cat posters, looked in nearby garages, contacted both the mainstream press as well as social media, enlisted the assistance of a telephone service that specializes in finding lost pets, and offered a US$1,500 reward for her safe return. The only stones that she, apparently, left unturned were to have contacted the police and local shelters as well and to have hired a pet detective.

Sadly, all of her efforts were for naught. She accordingly was forced into concluding that Salem either had absconded on her own, left after a fight with another cat, or been killed by a hit-and-run motorist. The first possible explanation can be disposed of rather quickly because cats are true homebodies who seldom desert owners who take reasonably good care of them.

While it is not known how many barn cats live on the farm, females normally are able to get along with both members of their own sex as well as males. Severe problems can develop between unneutered males, however, and once the fur begins the fly it is not unusual for one or more of the warring parties to hit the road.

Although Salem is said to have stayed close to the barn, it is always conceivable that she could have been killed by a motorist. Presumably, Eriksen walked up and down nearby roads looking for her but she would have needed to have done that almost immediately because a cat's corpse, including fur and bones, can disintegrate into nothingness within as short a period of time as two days in the hot August sun. Garbagemen, other public officials, and even conscientious private citizens also remove dead cats from the pavement and shoulders of public thoroughfares.

It also is conceivable that she could have become unwittingly trapped inside either a motor vehicle or some type of portable container and therefore could have been transported off the farm to parts unknown. (See Cat Defender posts of November 6, 2006 and July 21, 2008 entitled, respectively, "Trapped in a Moving Van for Five Days, Texas Cat Named Neo Is Finally Freed in Colorado" and "Janosch Survives Being Sent Through the Post from Bayern to the Rhineland.")

She additionally could have fallen victim to an unleashed dog. Skunks, raccoons, and fishers also are known to not only kill cats but to drag their corpses underground into their lairs. Given that she was such a small cat, Salem could have been snatched up by either an eagle, hawk, owl, or some other bird of prey and spirited miles away.

Coyotes are another major menace for cats living on Long Island. For example, they are theorized to have swam from the southeastern coast of Connecticut to Fishers Island, located sixteen kilometers off the North Fork, where in 2011 alone they were blamed for killing dozens of them. (See Cat Defender post of September 17, 2011 entitled "Coyotes, Swimming from Connecticut, Are Blamed for Killing Twenty Cats on Remote and Exclusive Fishers Island.")

Whereas Fishers Island is located one-hundred-sixty-four kilometers east of Northport, the Southampton hamlet of Water Mill is not only located on the North Fork itself but it is only one-hundred kilometers east of Northport and at least one coyote was spotted there in 2013. (See The Suffolk Times, July 9, 2013, "Are Coyotes on the North Fork?")

Lorene Eriksen with a New Friend

For her part, Eriksen from the very beginning always suspected that Salem had been stolen and that is a real possibility given that the farm is open to the public free of charge every day of the year. It was not until ten months later in June of 2015, however, that she had any evidence whatsoever in order to substantiate her suspicions.

That was when, like a coup du ciel, an unidentified visitor to the farm spotted one of Eriksen's Lost Cat posters and that jogged her memory into recalling that she earlier had seen a message posted on a Facebook page entitled Moms of Huntington, New York, that had contained an oblique reference to "the friendly black cat at Lewis Oliver Farm' while simultaneously inquiring as to whether she had an owner because she felt "so bad for it." By then the message had been deleted so it is impossible to say whether it had been posted before or after Salem's disappearance but it definitely was around that time.

"Needless to say, this was a shocking revelation and a substantial break in what had remained a mystery behind her disappearance," Eriksen told the Huntington Patch on July 30, 2015. (See "Salem the Cat and Her Disappearance from Lewis Oliver Farm.")

Eriksen and some of her co-workers at the farm subsequently joined the Moms of Huntington, New York, Facebook page in an effort to track down the author of the post but all that they were able to confirm was that the post at one time had indeed existed. "The fact that the post no longer appears on the page tells us that the person who likely took Salem after writing about her either lost her in the process of 'rescuing' her or simply has no intentions of coming forward to clear up what could well have been a case of mistaken identity (that Salem was homeless)," Eriksen added to the Patch.

Unfortunately, not enough information has been publicly divulged about Salem's disappearance in order to properly evaluate Eriksen's suspicions. First of all, exactly when on August 14, 2014 was she stolen? For instance, did she disappear during the daytime or overnight?

Secondly, is the farm outfitted with surveillance cameras? Thirdly, does anyone actually sleep overnight on the premises?

Presumably, the thief would have needed to have made at least two trips to the farm. Moreover, if the woman had come back during the daytime it is likely that either one of the volunteers or another visitor would have noticed her making off with Salem. If she had returned during the overnight period it would have been difficult, but certainly not impossible, for her to have located the tiny black cat in the dark.

As it so often turns out to be the case whenever a cat is either stolen or abused, it is, ironically, its friendly disposition toward humans that proves to be its undoing. "... sadly it was her friendliness and kitten-like behavior and appearance that likely led to someone's urge to rescue her...," Eriksen conceded in an article posted June 9, 2016 on the Facebook page, Lost Cat Salem.

Even so, the thief would not necessarily have known just how pliable Salem was unless she previously had attempted to pick her up because even some domesticated cats will not allow their longtime owners to do likewise without digging their claws and fangs into them. The thief therefore most likely would have needed a cage although given Salem's diminutive size she could have stuffed her into either a large purse or a bag and then casually strolled off the farm without anyone being any the wiser.

In spite of all of that it still seems somewhat dubious that the woman could have engineered such a daring theft without getting caught flagrante delicto. The strongest argument therefore in support of Eriksen's suspicions is the woman's failure to come forward and to clear up this matter.

First of all, she obviously lives in either Huntington, a city with more than two-hundred-thousand denizens, or nearby. Secondly, she admittedly has visited the farm and was well aware of Salem's presence. Thirdly, she is both computer literate and social media savvy and therefore could not possibly be unaware that Eriksen desperately wants her cat returned.

"Please help give us all the peace of mind and closure that we deserve and that anyone would wish to have under the same heartbreaking circumstances," she pleaded in vain January 4, 2017 on Lost Cat Salem.

Salem Always Could Be Counted Upon to Have Something Cooking

Earlier on June 9, 2016 she made a similar appeal. "The only thing worse than having to live with the perpetual question mark and worry that always comes when a pet goes missing is to have a credible lead such as this but no conclusion as of yet," she wrote on Lost Cat Salem.

Given the rather obvious fact that the woman has absolutely no intention of voluntarily returning Salem, that would appear to leave Eriksen with only three options. The best of which would be for her to retain the services of a lawyer, a private peeper, and a computer hacker in order to track down the woman's now deleted Facebook post.

As far as it is known, nothing that is done on either a computer or a mobile telephone ever completely disappears. Rather, it is stored on a server somewhere in the world.

Getting hold of it would be both expensive and time consuming but it could be done. For instance, when the Justice Department in Washington was investigating baseball pitcher Roger "the Rocket" Clemens for perjury a few years back it was able to resurrect seemingly every e-mail letter and text message that he had sent and received dating back for at least a decade.

Eriksen's second option would be to wait until Salem turns up at either a shelter or a veterinarian's office but that alternative would be viable only if she had been previously fitted with an implanted microchip. Plus, she in the interim would need to pay the database company to which the chip is hooked up to in order to keep her contact information up to date.

Sometimes a shelter will be willing to go the extra mile in order to track down an owner who has failed to do so but it would be foolish for Eriksen to rely upon either anyone or organization to be that professional. (See Cat Defender post of March 31, 2010 entitled "A Winnipeg Family Is Astounded by Tiger Lily's Miraculous Return after Having Been Believed Dead for Fourteen Years.")

Thirdly, if she has not done so already, Eriksen might want to send Lost Cat posters via the United States Postal Service, as opposed to e-mail, to all shelters and veterinarians operating on Long Island and in New York City. The metropolitan behemoth to the east should be included in that effort not only because seemingly everything on the island tends to gravitate in that direction but also because on March 31, 2013 a five-year-old tuxedo named Disaster was found at Times Square after having disappeared from his home in Woodmere, a scant fifty-three kilometers east of Northport, two years previously. (See Cat Defender post of May 30, 2013 entitled "Stone-Broke, Homeless, and All Alone at the Crossroads of the World, Disaster Is Snatched from Harm's Way by a Representative of the Walking Dead.")

Given that shelters, veterinarians, motorists, ornithologists, wildlife biologists, and others slaughter millions of cats each year, it is a little bit difficult to believe that so many people also steal them. Whereas many of these individuals simply are either too cheap to pay the adoption fees that shelters demand or too lazy to take the time and effort that goes into socializing those that are homeless, others steal cats for a myriad of additional reasons.

For example, a seventeen-year-old tuxedo named Slim was stolen from the Edinburgh neighborhood of Ottawa in June of 2007 because his owners, Michel Giroux and Tanya Guay, allowed him to roam. To add insult to injury, the thief wrote them a defiant and nasty letter after learning of their identities via the information contained on Slim's collar and tag.

"Obviously, I have no intention of returning him to the city streets to be neglected again," that individual declared. "If you really do care about his well-being, you'll be happy that he now lives a safe, sweet, peaceful happy life."(See Cat Defender post of July 9, 2007 entitled "A Hungry and Disheveled Cat Named Slim Is Picked Up Off the Streets of Ottawa by a Rescuer Who Refuses to Return Him to His Owners.")

Later on February 21, 2015, a three-year-old female named Lady Thor disappeared from St. Margaret's Hope on South Ronaldsay in the Orkneys. Her owners, Hamish and Carole Mowatt, later theorized that she either was driven off the island in a motor car or taken aboard the ferry to either Mainland Island or the shores of Scotland.

There would seem to be little doubt that she was stolen in that she not only disappeared from their restaurant sometime between 9 a.m. and noon but, in contradistinction to Salem, she was not a friendly cat who cottoned easily to strangers. (See Cat Defender post of May 7, 2015 entitled "Heartbroken Restaurateurs in the Highlands Are Offering a £1,000 Reward for the Safe Return of Their Beloved Lady Thor.")

Salem Takes Refuge in a Sink During a Visit to a Veterinarian

Veterinarians and shelters likewise cannot always be counted upon to return cats to their rightful owners even when they know their identities and addresses. (See Cat Defender posts of June 26, 2012 and January 3, 2006 entitled, respectively, "A Family in Wiltshire Turns to Social Media and Leaflets in Order to Shame a Veterinary Chain and a Foster Parent into Returning Tazzy" and "A Manhattan Court to Rely Upon an 1894 Dog Law in Order to Decide Custody of a Russian Blue Named Oliver Gatsby.")

If data recently released by Direct Line of the Bromley section of London is accurate, the number of cats that are stolen each year is growing exponentially. For instance, the pet insurance company claims that the number of cats stolen in the United Kingdom during 2016 increased by forty per cent over 2014. Even more staggering, three-hundred-sixty-thousand respondents told investigators that they believed that they had had at least one cat stolen during the past twelve months.

That in turn has prompted Kelly Freezer of Bright Side Vets in Swadlincote, Derbyshire, to go off the deep end. "It may not be intentional but the person feeding the cat might think the cat is a stray and encourage it to stay, when the reality is the cat is just looking for food or a comfy place to sleep," she mindlessly gassed to the Burton Mail on September 5th. (See "Swadlincote Vet Makes Plea to Cat Owners as Number of Thefts Continues to Soar.")"For this reason we would discourage people from feeding a cat that isn't theirs, not only could it encourage them to continue to stray from home but they could have special dietary requirements or medications that needs (sic) to be considered."

She is dead wrong about all of that because there is absolutely nothing wrong with feeding a cat, especially one that looks like it could use a good meal. Besides, such cats are already on the street and it is far preferable that they be fed by conscientious individuals in the safety of their gardens and houses as opposed to being allowed to put their lives at risk by venturing out into traffic and consuming whatever they are lucky enough to scavenge on their own, no matter how poisonous or injurious to their health. As far as those that have special dietary and medical needs are concerned, their owners do not have any business turning them loose to roam in the first place.

The decision to bring a cat inside, however, requires considerably more thought. If the area is congested with motorists, it would be totally irresponsible not to bring it inside.

"Cat Found" posters and alerts on social media then could be initiated in an effort to locate its owner. Even if successful, that effort would not provide a completely satisfactory resolution to the moral conundrum of whether or not to return such cat to an owner who is intentionally endangering its life by allowing it roam traffic-clogged streets.

None of those considerations would tend to apply in the case of Salem in that, as far as it is known, the farm was a perfectly safe environment for her and she was treated extremely well by Eriksen and the other volunteers. Perhaps in hindsight it would have been better if she had either taken her home with her or made additional provisions for her personal safety but those things are difficult to know ahead of time.

Cats are here one moment and gone the next. They also are adept at concealing life-threatening ailments from even the most attentive owners until it is way too late in order to save them. So, in summation, although cats freely bestow upon their owners tremendous amounts of love and joy they always sooner or later end up leaving them with broken hearts, unfathomable mysteries, and deep wounds that are destined never to heal.

"Our love for Salem has no deadline," Eriksen wrote as late as June 9, 2016 on Lost Cat Salem. "There is no statute of limitations on the worry or on our responsibility to do everything we can to locate our long-lost friend who was given no choice in the matter when she suddenly found herself away from the only home she had ever known where her family -- including her twin sister and kitty soul mate, Sabrina -- loves and misses her."

Anyone who therefore should either know anything about Salem's disappearance or have any suggestions to offer as to how that Eriksen should proceed in this matter is urged to contact her by telephone at (631) 261-6320 or by e-mail at friendsofthefarm@ymail.com.

Other than that, she is to be commended for her fidelity to Salem which stands in stark contrast to the callous indifference that both his owner and the University of Edinburgh showed Jordan after he, too, disappeared without so much as a trace. (See Cat Defender post of October 3, 2017 entitled "Jordan, the University of Edinburgh's Library Cat, Disappears into Thin Air but No One Either Cares, Knows or Is Willing to Say What Has Happened to Him.")

It is certainly late in the game and the odds are definitely stacked against Eriksen ever so much as laying eyes upon Salem again but stranger things have occurred in the past so there is at least a faint glimmer of hope that her long search may yet bear fruit. Regardless of whether or not that should come to pass, it can only be devoutly hoped that Salem is still alive and well...wherever she is today.

Photos: Facebook (Salem) and www.change.org (Eriksen with a sheep).

The class of 2014 has eighteen distinguished members. Seven of them hail from the United States, five from England, three from Scotland, and one each from Canada, France, and Iceland.

Regardless of their respective nationalities, the tie that binds them all together is death. Most regrettably of all, Hamish McHamish, Peat, Lewis, Dodger, and Penny are long dead but the remaining members of the class also had their share of brushes with the Grim Reaper but somehow survived.

In particular, Cookie, Spice, and Örvar went missing for long intervals before finally being miraculously reunited with their owners. The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for either Jordan or Salem who are still nowhere to be found.

The lives of Jasper and Percy remain at risk because of their guardians' decisions to allow them to ride the rails by their lonesomes whereas it is motorists that are imperiling the very existences of Simba, Mayhem, and Archie. Young Butterscotch and elderly George were cruelly abandoned to fend for themselves in the street while Chance's owner not only cast him out but attempted to drown him in the process.

It was not easy to single out any one of these remarkable cats to wear the crown of Cat of the Year but, upon reflection, that honor simply had to go to Hamish McHamish owing not only to his striking good looks but, more importantly, because of how terribly that he was forced to suffer for fourteen years on the mean streets of St. Andrews because his guardian, the students at the University of St. Andrews, and the local citizenry were too cheap, exploitative, and uncaring to provide him with a warm and secure place in which to hang his hat. This posthumous recognition of his life and exploits cannot possibly do him any good at this late date but it nevertheless is important that neither he, his interminable suffering, nor his cold-blooded murder ever be forgotten.

For a look back at previous articles in this series, see Cat Defender posts of December 21, 2006, December 25, 2007, January 25, 2009, February 20, 2010, February 23, 2011, May 11, 2012, December 18, 2013, and January 11, 2016 entitled, respectively, "Heroes and Victims: Sixteen Special Cats to Remember from the Year 2006,""Survivors and Adventurers: Fifteen Wonderful Cats to Remember from the Year 2007,""Sparkles, Who Was Forced to Pay the Ultimate Price for Belonging to the World's Most Abused Species, Tops the List of the Most Memorable Cats of 2008,""Abandoned and Left to Die in the Cold and Snow of Wisconsin, Domino Was the Most Memorable Cat of 2009,""Frosty, Who Nearly Froze and Starved to Death in an Uncaring Capitalist's Frozen Food Warehouse, Stands Out as the Most Remarkable Cat of 2010,""Andrea's Incredible Survival of Two Gassings Plus Attempts to Suffocate and Freeze Her to Death Makes Her the Overwhelming Choice as Cat of the Year for 2011,""Unforgettable Hattie, Who Annually Returns Home for Christmas, Is Crowned as Cat of the Year for 2012," and "Mario, Who Survived an Oil Train Explosion and Subsequently Was Forced to Go Without Food and Water for an Astonishing Seventy-Nine Days, Was the Most Compelling Feline Personality of 2013.")

1.) Hamish McHamish. St. Andrews' Horribly Neglected Homeless Cat Is Killed Off by His Absentee Owner.

Hamish McHamish on His Own and on the Street

"I had him since he was a kitten and he turned into a bit of a legend, so it is a bit of a wrench to leave this place."
-- Marianne Baird

September 11th was a dark and sad day for cat-lovers everywhere because that was when retired BBC producer Marianne Baird took Hamish McHamish to an unidentified veterinarian in St. Andrews and had him killed off. Even though the truly beautiful longhaired orange and white tom with watery green eyes was all of fifteen years old, his killing still came as a shock.

"In the end, the chest infection that he had been battling proved too much for him and the kindest thing to do was to let him go," she announced to the world later that same day on his Facebook page.

His illness surely must have developed rather rapidly because as late as August 25th there was absolutely nothing posted on Facebook about him even being sick. Rather, the earliest mention that he was even ailing did not come until September 9th.

"Most of you will have noticed that I've been a little quieter lately. That's because I have been rather poorly," he publicly acknowledged in a Facebook posting on that date. "At fifteen years young, things that were once easy to overcome are now more difficult. My mum and the vets are keeping a close eye on me  and I am being very well looked after. For now though, I'm taking some time to try and get better."

As it soon thereafter became painfully evident, Baird and her veterinarians gave him almost no time at all in order to get back on his feet. As far as it could be determined, no memorial service ever was held in his memory and it never was publicly divulged what ultimately was done with his remains.

A handful of the town's seventeen-thousand residents were respectful enough, however, to drop off a few bouquets of flowers and lighted candles at a recently installed bronze statue of him in Church Square. Even as such it was about as stingy and unappreciative a sendoff as is imaginable for a cat who had come to symbolize the auld grey toon not only to its denizens but also to the tens of thousands of golfing enthusiasts who pour in from all around the world every fifth year when its legendary Old Course hosts the British Open.

From what little information that has surfaced regarding his early days, it would appear that Hamish enjoyed a fairly normal kittenhood. All of that radically changed once he had reached the tender age of one year old because that was when Baird reprehensibly washed her hands of him by cruelly abandoning him to wander the forbidding streets of St. Andrews as a homeless and utterly penniless vagabond. The only positive thing that she is known to have contributed to his upkeep over the course of the succeeding years were annual veterinary checkups.

By default, the responsibility for his care passed to the students at the University of St. Andrews and local businesses such as Sue Ryder's Charity Shop, Dynamic Hair, and the law firm of Pagan Osborne. Even with those kindhearted souls in his corner, his life was at best a hardscrabble affair.

The toll that life on the street had taken on him was clearly visible not only in his long and unkempt mane but also in the dramatic weight loss that he underwent each summer once the students left town. His most formidable foes, however, were the unrelenting cold and rain that accompany the eighteen hours of darkness that envelope St. Andrews for most of the winter months.

"It became an unwritten rule," Flora Selwyn, who edits St. Andrews in Focus, related earlier in 2014. "If Hamish turned up at your door, you let him in."

It also became part of local folklore that it was a harbinger of bad luck to turn him away. Even so, it is almost impossible to imagine him as being anywhere other than out in the cold, wet, and darkness for a lion's share of the nights that he spent upon this earth.

On top of that, he was forced into dealing with the litany of dangers that are faced by all homeless cats. Principally among them were assaults by yobs and other miscreants as well as the constant perils posed by motorists. Last but certainly not least, there was the danger posed by his species' oldest and most ruthless adversary. Specially, in January of 2014 he was chased up a tree by a pair of vicious dogs and accordingly had to be gotten down by students from the college and employees of Dynamic Hair.

On April 5th, the city honored him with the aforementioned statue and on that memorable occasion he was driven to the unveiling in a BMW. "Our statue is a way of saying thank you to Hamish for being so perfectly adorable and to celebrate him and the joy he brings to us," Selwyn said on that occasion. "It (the statue) has been a very popular idea. Hamish is a wonderful animal."

Such declarations of abiding love notwithstanding, it is strange to say the least that over the course of his lifetime that no one in St. Andrews, Selwyn included, ever saw fit to provide him with a loving, secure, and warm home. That in turns lends itself to an altogether different interpretation as to why the city's elders chose to belatedly honor Hamish with a statue.

"I hope it will be a big attraction. It'll be a nice change from golf and universities," Selwyn candidly added. "It'll be an added bit to the town."

So, in a roundabout way, she and the city got what they wanted even if they no longer have Hamish around in order to hideously neglect and to exploit to the hilt for financial gain. This world may very well be brimming over with haters and exploiters of the species but even many of them fully realize that no animal brings in the big bucks quite like a cat.

Even so, it must be said for the sake of truthfulness that the statue itself is not only ugly but bears faint resemblance to the genuine article. Most noticeably, it has been fashioned in all the wrong colors and therefore completely fails to convey Hamish's stunning attractiveness.

As for Baird, she put up for sale last year the house that she so steadfastly refused to share with Hamish at 4 Loudens Close and hightailed it out of town in favor of the Isle of Wight. "I had him since he was a kitten and he turned into a bit of a legend, so it is a bit of a wrench to leave this place," she vowed to The Courier of Dundee on April 16, 2016. (See "Whenever I Lay My Cat...That's My Home.")" I'm getting older so I guess they (family members) want me to be a bit closer to home."

Given that cats suffering from common colds are, under most circumstances, treatable, coupled with the fact that she deliberately chose not only to withhold veterinary care but also to end his life, it is utterly impossible to believe that she thought so much as twice about him while she was making up her mind to vacate the old abode that they once so ever briefly shared. Even if against all odds she did, the £375,000 that she was asking for it sans doute went a long way toward soothing any latent pangs of conscience.

Other than in the memories of his benefactors, Hamish's most lasting legacy is destined to live on, not in bronze, but rather in Susan McMullen's 2012 tome,Hamish McHamish of St. Andrews. Cool Cat Around Town.(See Cat Defender posts of June 20, 2014 and October 18, 2014 entitled, respectively, "St. Andrews Honors Hamish McHamish with a Bronze Statue but Does Not Have the Decency, Love, and Compassion in Order to Provide Him with a Warm, Secure , and Permanent Home" and "Hamish McHamish's Derelict Owner Reenters His Life after Fourteen Years of Abject Neglect Only to Have Him Killed Off after He Contracts a Preeminently Treatable Common Cold.")

2.) Simba. Ginger-Colored Tom Magically Transforms a Maine High School into a Special Place.

Simba

"I just see such an emotional connection and real care about this creature. He has such a calming effect on all of us."
-- art teacher Carol Connor

Ever since he first arrived in 2001, Simba has had a profound effect upon the students, teachers, and administrators at Westbrook High School (WHS), located eleven kilometers outside of Portland. It is math teacher Tina Soucy, however, that they have to thank for the petit fait that he ever entered their lives in the first place.

"I was just moving into my classroom downstairs and he was sitting outside, and I let him in," she disclosed in 2013. After that, he did the rest all by himself.

"He knew what he was doing because he made friends with the superintendent (Marc Edward Gousse)," she continued.

In the days, weeks, months, and years that followed Simba quickly became a regular visitor to not only Soucy's math classes and Gousse's office, but he also frequently could be found in the guidance counselor's office, at band practice, and in the stands during sporting events. About the only places that were declared to be off limits to him were the cafeteria and areas where there were students that were allergic to cats.

It was perhaps, however, the calming effect that cats are known to have on their human counterparts that was most appreciated about the elderly ginger-colored tom. "He kind of sets the tone and reminds us that we don't have to be stressed," 2012 graduate Victoria Simoneau pointed out. "We can be as relaxed as Simba and still get stuff done."

Art instructor Carol Connor echoed those sentiments. "I just see such an emotional connection and real care about this creature," she said. "He has such a calming effect on all of us."

He also proved himself to be quite a money-maker and all the world knows only too well how much that Americans dearly love their greenbacks. In particular, a collection of paintings, drawings, and photographs made of him by both staffers and teachers was sold to the public at an auction in April of 2013 in order to raise cash for the purchase of direly needed art supplies.

Malheureusement, all of the hoopla churned up by the art sale also left Simba a bit knackered. "It's been a rough week for him," Soucy acknowledged. "He's famous now."

Little is known about Simba's early years other than that he at one time was owned by a family named Foye who left him behind when they decided to relocate elsewhere. He consequently was adopted by Eileen Shutts of 42 Monroe Avenue in 2006.

That change in ownership not withstanding, life went on as before for Simba in that he continued to spend most of his days at WHS. What he did with himself on weekends, holidays, and whenever the school was closed for extended intervals, such as during the summer months and Christmas break, never has been publicly divulged.

Located at 125 Stroudwater Street, the school is only two-tenths of a mile removed from Shutts' house but even so there is always the very real danger that he could be run down and killed by a motorist. Kidnappers, poisoners, and dogs are three additional menaces that imperil his continued existence.

Regrettably, it has not proven possible to ascertain if he is still visiting WHS or even if he is still alive. Although his exact age is not known, he would be somewhere between nineteen and twenty-two years old if he is still alive today.

"We don't want him to just go away someday and never be recognized for what he's brought to the school," Connor added in reference to the art sale. "The climate and culture here, he just elevates it."

Gousse could not have agreed more. "I think he probably knows he's liked and loved, and it's mutual," he said.

In spite of the many positives that accompany youth, few individuals at that stage of their lives possess the capacity to separate the important from the unimportant and as a consequence it is highly doubtful that any of the recent attendees of WHS fully realized just how fortunate they were to have been blessed by Simba's presence. Much the same thing can be said for the teachers and administrators in that wisdom does not always accompany adulthood. (See Cat Defender post of May 19, 2014 entitled "Even after Fourteen Years of Faithful Companionship and Exemplary Service, Teachers, Students, and Administrators at Westbrook High Remain Clueless as to Simba's Intrinsic Value.")

3.) Penny. The Longtime Resident Feline of the Swansea Public Library Dies.

Penny During Her Happy Days

"She's a fixture around here. The first thing people say when they walk in the door is (to) ask 'where's Penny'?"
-- library director Cynthia St. Amour

For more than a decade a pretty tortoiseshell with green eyes named Penny lived at the public library in Swansea, six kilometers west of Fall River in the Bay State. Adopted from a shelter in 2003, she served as the facility's mascot, goodwill ambassador, and resident mouser. Even more importantly, she was a cherished friend and loyal ally to both staffers and patrons alike.

"Not every cat can be a good library cat. She's calm and mellow," circulation librarian Marie Shea said in 2013. "Penny is a joy to the staff and a joy to the patrons and makes the library a special place."

By early March of 2014, however, she not only had lost considerable weight but had stopped climbing the stairs. In an effort to retard the very noticeable decline that was occurring right before their very eyes, staffers started providing her with special foods as a way of enticing her to eat more.

Patrons likewise did their part by sitting with her and petting her but all of their attentions were to no avail and Penny died on March 8th. For whatever it is worth, the library insists that she died on her own at an unidentified veterinarian's office before that individual had even a chance to examine her.

"It's good that she's not suffering," Shea said afterwards. "It's so sad without her."

"She was everyone's cat," is how that Kaija Gallucci of the library's technical services department chose to eulogize her. "It'll be a different sort of (grieving) process."

"I think she made the library a little special," is how that children's librarian Carol Gafford remembered her. "She had a great life."

Following her death, her remains were burned and her ashes reportedly scattered in a garden at the library. Although the institution neglected to hold a funeral service in her memory, it did pony for the laying of a cheap and disgustingly insignificant rock in the same garden that is surrounded by flowers and contains a photograph of her.

The inscription on the rock reads""Penny, Beloved Library Cat, Your Paw Prints Are Forever on Our Hearts."

Her memory therefore lives on today not only in that monument but also on the library's Facebook page which still features several photographs of her even though her image has been inexcusably deleted from the library's web site. It is, however, in the hearts of those staffers and patrons that were fortunate enough to have known her that her absence is felt the keenest.

"A day does not go by that a child doesn't come in and ask for Penny," Gafford related shortly after her death.

Up until the last year of her life Penny had enjoyed a quiet and uneventful existence that saw her divide her time between the front desk, a straw basket, peering longingly out the windows, and snoozing in the stacks. All of that was radically altered in early 2013 when local rabble-rouser and troublemaker Patrick Higgins launched a spirited campaign to have her evicted from her home.

"I must again demand that Penny the 'house cat' for the Swansea Library disappear since there are many people who are allergic to cats who cannot use the library (sic) facilities due to their allergies, in direct violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act," he wrote in a March 24th e-mail letter that was sent to the library's director, Cynthia St. Amour, and other bigwigs around town.

That threat was sufficient in order to not only scare St. Amour out of her silk drawers but to prompt her into shamefully knuckling under to his Machiavellian will. "We'll be looking at adoption possibilities in the future," she announced by way of pulling the rug out from underneath Penny.

In doing so, that marked an abrupt change in her way of thinking."She's a fixture around here," she had only recently publicly declared. "The first thing people say when they walk in the door is (to) ask 'where's Penny'?"

Fortunately for Penny, St. Amour's subalterns were not nearly as chicken-hearted as their boss and they responded with, not cowardice, but rather spit in their eyes. In particular, one petition started by them and demanding that Penny be allowed to remain at the library collected more than four-hundred signatures by April 1st.

Another one circulated by former Swansea resident Aubrey Laflamme attracted two-thousand-one-hundred-forty-four supporters as well as four-hundred endorsements on Facebook. The Herald News of Fall River interviewed one-thousand-two-hundred-eighty respondents and eighty-seven per cent of them were in favor of allowing Penny to remain in her home.

The law firm of Killoran and Killoran of Fall River even went so far as to offer its services pro bono to Penny. As things eventually turned out, they were not required because when the Board of Library Trustees met on April 3rd they voted to allow Penny to stay.

"Basically, he (Higgins) wants you (the board) to make her disappear. It's an ultimatum," city attorney Arthur Frank told the trustees at that historic gathering. "He's saying do this or I'll file (a complaint). If you want to deal with the devil, you can deal with the devil."

There is not any obvious connection, but it is remotely possible that the stress brought on by Higgins' machinations could have played some part in hastening Penny's death. Although she may not have been aware of either his existence or what he was up to, she nonetheless may have been capable of sensing the tensions that he was generating in her caretakers as well as the imminent dangers that lurked in her environment.

Ironically, although Higgins may have lost the battle it appears in hindsight that he has won the war. That is because the library, at last check, had not as of yet found a replacement for Penny and that was one of his key demands.

"I've lived here all my life and I can't remember a time when the library didn't have a cat," local resident Luna Leal was able to declare with pride in 2013 but she most definitely cannot say that today. With Penny long gone and no newcomer on the horizon, the Swansea Public Library is now just another soulless repository of old books and computers. (See Cat Defender post of March 8, 2016 entitled "Penny of the Swansea Public Library: A Remembrance.")

4.) Chance. Diabetic Tom Is Weighted Down in a Cage and Dumped in a Creek to Drown.

Chance, Soaking Wet, but Alive

"I usually run with earbuds in, but didn't that day because of the rain. It's a good thing I didn't, otherwise I couldn't have been the tool God used to save the cat."
-- Matt Guidarelli

The diabolical crimes committed against cats by ornithologists, wildlife biologists, environmentalists, and other despisers of the species are horrific enough in their own right but, sadly to say, some of those that are perpetrated against them by their owners can sometimes be every bit as bad. For example, on June 3rd or thereabouts an unknown individual incarcerated an eight-year-old brown and gray cat named Chance in a pet carrier and then tossed him into the Normans Kill in the Slingerlands section of Bethlehem, just west of Albany.

In order to make doubly certain that he drowned, the cretin weighted down his cage with a thirty-pound rock. Considering that the cat, at sixteen pounds and six ounces, already was not only grossly obese but also suffering from diabetes, that constituted a classic case of overkill.

As if the deck were not already stacked against him, even Mother Nature had thrown her considerable weight behind his assailant by sending down the rain in torrents and as a consequence the water in his cage was almost up to his eyeballs. Under such dire circumstances there is not any way of denying that the Grim Reaper was knocking impatiently at Chance's door with the intention of either immediately drowning him or later on allowing him to succumb to a lack of insulin and starvation.

With no conceivable way of getting out of the cage, his situation was beyond all conceivable hope. Nevertheless, he refused to give up and instead kept crying out for help and, although by that time his vocal chords surely must have been severely strained, that is what ultimately led to his eleventh-hour deliverance.

At around 5 p.m. on that fateful afternoon, twenty-five-year-old Matt Guidarelli ventured out for his daily jog and although it is usually his style to run with the music blaring in his head, on that occasion he had chosen to shut it off and that ultimately made all the difference. "I usually run with earbuds in, but didn't that day because of the rain," he afterwards explained. "It's a good thing I didn't, otherwise I wouldn't have been the tool God used to save the cat."

As a result of having tuned out the music in favor of reality, he was able to overhear what he at first mistook to be an infant crying. It was not until he had paused on a footbridge and peered down into the Normans Kill, however, that he spied the partially submerged pet carrier.

By that time only Chance's yellow eyes and head were visible above the water line in his cage. That in turn left him with only about three inches of breathing space.

Without hesitating, Guidarelli clambered ten feet down into the creek and pulled Chance to safety. Other than having been scared out of eight of his nine lives, he was, miraculously, unharmed.

Ironically, his savior is anything but a fan of the species. "I'm not a cat person at all, and am actually allergic to them," he admitted. "What I did is what anyone should do if they have the physical ability to do it."

It accordingly is not surprising that he categorically refused to be even the least little bit critical of Chance's would-be executioner. "I can't be angry with the person who did this because I don't know the circumstances they (sic) were in, but there are so many other alternatives to get rid of an unwanted pet," he declared.

Such an outlook, no matter how indefensible, is apparently shared by both the police and animal protection groups in the area because no effort whatsoever was made in order to apprehend and bring to justice Chance's former owner. Furthermore, this is not the first such incidence of its kind in upstate New York. (See Cat Defender post of May 20, 2008 entitled "Malice Aforethought: Upstate New York Cat Is Saved from a Watery Grave by a Dead Tree and a Passerby; New Hampshire Cat Is Not So Fortunate.")

Following a nervous and stressful fortnight at a shelter, Chance was ransomed off of death row by Broadway actress Megan McGinnis and her partner Dena Sanders of Schenectady. "It was love at first sight," McGinnis later explained. "There was just something about him, and we had to adopt him."

Sanders wholeheartedly concurred in that assessment of him. "It's amazing. He's very cuddly and loves to chase the laser pointer," she added. "He's getting a second chance at life."

Like just about all things in life, their generosity and compassion has not come cheaply. In particular, since Chance is afflicted with type one diabetes mellitus, he requires twice daily insulin injections plus biweekly veterinary visits.

"He's an expensive kitty," McGinnis acknowledged. "But he's worth it."

The mere fact that two perfect strangers could so readily recognize his intrinsic worth makes it all the more deplorable that his former guardian would attempt to do away with him in such a hideous fashion. The same is equally true of the authorities and their stubborn insistence upon turning blind eyes to such heinous acts of animal cruelty. (See Cat Defender post of July 9, 2014 entitled "Dumped in the Normans Kill, Chance Did Not Have a Prayer in Hell Until a Jogger Who Had Turned Off the Music Heard His Desperate Cries for Help.")

5.) Butterscotch. Manitoba Tom Is Forced to Wander Around for Weeks with His Head Stuck Inside a Bug Trap.

Butterscotch with His Head Caught in a Wretched Bug Trap

"When I have to catch an animal, it's a job I have to do. It's something you can't walk away from. Not a cat in distress like this one. The cat had to be captured."
-- Toni Gramiak of Brandon Area Lost Animals

Homeless and all alone on the forbidding streets of Brandon, two-hundred-fourteen kilometers west of Winnipeg in Manitoba, an orange and white cat of undetermined age named Butterscotch was forced into going to outlandish lengths in order to hold body and soul together. When he went searching inside a green and red plastic bug trap for sustenance, however, that nearly proved to he his undoing.

Unable to extricate his head from the device, he wandered around with it for an undetermined amount of time until his desperate plight finally came to the attention of a Good Samaritan on the south end of town on July 23rd who promptly notified Brandon Area Lost Animals (BALA). The charity immediately set out to humanely trap him but little did it realize at that stage what a protracted and frustrating ordeal lay ahead of them.

The good news was that the trap was not preventing Butterscotch from eating and drinking so there was not any immediate concern that he was about to succumb to either starvation or dehydration. The trap did, however, severely impair his peripheral vision and that nearly led to him being run down and killed by a hit-and-run motorist on August 7th.

The biggest concern was the trap itself which was disintegrating but not enough so as to allow Butterscotch to extricate his head. Rather, the danger was that he easily could have become impaled on the jagged pieces of sharp plastic.

Strangulation was another bothersome worry. "The problem was the plastic ring," Jennifer Beckwith of the Grand Valley Animal Clinic (GVAC) in Brandon said at that time. "He'd stuck his head through the top of it and had managed to basically break it apart, but the ring was still hanging off his neck."

Equipped with humane traps, night vision cameras, and electronic monitors placed outside the snares, corralling Butterscotch should have been a cinch for the experienced trappers at BALA but an unidentified neighborhood troublemaker threw a monkey wrench into their best laid plans. Specifically, he damaged and overturned traps and tried to frighten away both Butterscotch and his pursuers by banging on his fence, activating a pressurized water hose, turning on his outside lights and cameras as wall as flashing floodlights on the trappers' vehicles.

The Brandon Police Service was notified but, typically, refused to intervene. Since the middle-aged male never attempted to either feed or to come to Butterscotch's assistance in any way, it seems safe to conclude that he was motivated by concerns other than his welfare.

Rather than dissuading BALA, the man's attempts at sabotaging the trapping initiative served only to reinforce its resolve. "When I have to catch an animal, it's a job I have to do. It's something you can't walk away from," the charity's Toni Gramiak said. "Not a cat in distress like this one. The cat had to be captured."

All of the days and hours that she and the volunteers devoted to the effort finally paid a huge dividend on August 9th when Butterscotch finally was apprehended. Then, and only then, were they able to breathe a huge sigh of relief.

"Eighteen days to capture a cat was...ridiculous," the organization later exclaimed on its Facebook page. "The challenges and threats we faced were beyond bizarre. The nightmare (yes, nightmare) is over."

Butterscotch then was taken to GVAC where he was anesthetized in a prelude to removing the trap. While he was flat out on his back, Beckwith also vaccinated him for rabies, distemper, and leukemia, doused him for fleas, worms, and mites and, lastly, sterilized him. On the positive side of the equation, he was neither emaciated or dehydrated and he tested negative for both the Feline Leukemia Virus (FeLV) and the Feline Immunosuppressant Virus (FIV).

After that he was forced to spend three days at the city pound before being transferred to Funds for Furry Friends where he was placed in foster care. Although he initially was terrified to death of humans, it did not take his unidentified foster mom long to have him eating out of her hands.

"Two weeks after coming into care, Butterscotch revealed his true self. He is a playful big kitten who loves to play fetch for treats," BALA proudly declared on Facebook. "He loves human affection, rolls around on his trusted human's lap and gives a lot of purrful head butts."

Best of all, he did not have to languish in foster care for very long because a home was secured for him in late September. "We know that Butterscotch gets his happily ever after," Gramiak proudly informed the Geulph Mercury on September 26th. (See "Cat That Spent Weeks With Bug Catcher on Head Finds a Home.")

Through its stellar work with Butterscotch, Funds for Furry Friends has proven once again that almost any homeless cat can be socialized. Instead of killing them, that effort and money would be much better spent socializing them for eventual adoption. (See Cat Defender post of September 6, 2014 entitled "Butterscotch Is Finally Freed from a Bug Trap but His Deliverance Has Come at an Awfully High Price That He Will Be Repaying for the Remainder of His Days.")

6.) Spice. Tiny Albuquerquean Kitten Mysteriously Turns Up in Portland.

Spice Is Looking Forward to a Brighter Tomorrow

"She was a big little deal. We got calls from all over from people who wanted to pay to reunite the cat and her family."
-- Patsy Murphy of the Animal Rescue League of Greater Portland

Although barely six-months-old, a gray and white kitten named Spice was really put through the wringer, so to speak, and her litany of misadventures all began, à propos, on Halloween, October 31th. That is when she mysteriously disappeared without so much as a trace from a large apartment complex in Albuquerque while her unidentified guardian was busily handing out candy to trick-or-treaters.

Under most circumstances that would have been the end of the matter and no one ever would have known what had happened to her. The Fates, however, had other plans in store for the pretty little newcomer to this wicked old world.

Five days later on November 5th, a handyman by the name of Bob Watterson nonchalantly picked up a duffel bag that had been dumped on the doorstep of Threads of Hope, a Catholic thrift shop, located at 244 St. John's Street in, of all places, Portland, Maine. Initially believing that it contained nothing more than old worn-out duds intended for resale to the down-and-out, he brought it inside and that was when he got the surprise of his life.

"I saw something move in the bag. I didn't know what it could have been," he later related. "Out popped the cat's head. It was pretty cool."

He initially did the right thing by taking Spice home with him but she quickly wore out her welcome by pissing in his bed. He then unceremoniously dropped her like a hot potato at the Animal Rescue League of Greater Portland (ARLGP) in Simba's hometown of Westbrook.

Thanks to an implanted microchip, it soon was learned that the kitten had been adopted earlier in the year from a shelter in Albuquerque. From there it was easy enough to identify and locate her owner.

"She was floored, absolutely stunned. She doesn't know anyone in Maine and has never been here, so she had no idea how the cat got here," Patsy Murphy of the ARLGP soon thereafter divulged to the public. "English is not her first language, and she is very shy but she desperately wants the cat back."

Since the individual who dumped her at Threads of Hope is not talking, how that she made it all the way from Albuquerque to Portland in such a short period of time is a secret that Spice is destined to take with her to her grave. The most logical explanation is that she was stolen and transported by car but that does not preclude other possibilities as well; with cats, one seldom knows for sure.

Although the woman said that she wanted to have Spice returned to her custody, she was not about to foot the bill for her return trip and neither was ARLGP. Luckily for the both of them, Jonathan W. Ayers of IDEXX Laboratories in Westbrook got wind of their dilemma and generously agreed to pay for their reunification.

"It really touched my heart," he said. "She's a miracle cat, and I felt like I could do something to complete the miracle."

On December 4th, Spice was flown to Albuquerque with Murphy acting as her chaperon whereupon she received a hero's welcome at the Animal Welfare Department's eastside shelter at 8920 Lomas Boulevard. The media were on hand and the facility was festooned with "Welcome Home" balloons. There was even a Christmas stocking with her name on it pinned to a poster.

"She was a big little deal," Murphy proclaimed on that happy occasion. "We got calls from all over from people who wanted to pay to reunite the cat and her family. Calls came from New York, California, Texas, New Mexico, Canada, the United Kingdom, China, and Germany."

Conspicuously absent from the proceedings was her mysterious owner. She is said to have collected the kitten later in the day but her reticence, coupled with her gross negligence in allowing Spice to disappear in the first place, raises serious unanswered concerns about her suitability as an owner.

"We are plain folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things!" the esteemable Bilbo Baggins declared in J.R.R. Tolkien's 1937 novel, The Hobbit."Make you late for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them."

That which holds true for adventures is even more so the case with misadventures and Spice certainly has already had enough of them in order to last her for a lifetime. (See Cat Defender post of December 11, 2014 entitled "Uprooted from Home and Left Stranded Thousands of Miles Away, Spice Discovers to Her Horror That Not All the Ghouls and Goblins in This World Are Necessarily to Be Found on Halloween.")

7.) Cookie. Normandie Chat Perseveres Through a Marathon Misadventure.

Cookie

"C'est un chat extraordinaire, qui a du caractère certes, mais facile. Je suis éblouie et admirative de ce qu'il a fait."
-- Dan Bouchery

No year would be entirely complete without at least one remarkable French chat who somehow had managed to surmount all sorts of daunting obstacles in order to go on living and in that regard a ten-month-old tuxedo named Cookie from Beaumont-en-Auge, Calvados département, in Normandie more than satisfied that requirement. His travails began on February 13, 2013 when his owner, Dan Bouchery, temporarily relocated to Grasse in Provence on the Côte d'Azur in order to accept a three-month assignment to author a collection of poems for children.

As a former homeless waif who loves his freedom, Cookie did not much care for being cooped up in the hotel room where Bouchery was living. "Il ne s'habituait pas à la vie dans la chambre d'hôtel, à Grasse. Il s'ennuyait," she later explained to L'Express of Paris on December 13, 2014. (See "Un chat traverse la France entière pour retrouver sa maîtresse.")"Cookie aime la pluie et réclamait d'aller sur le balcon en permanence. Je le sortais avec une laisse pour l'habiteur au départ. Il semblait être un chat-chien, très attachant."

The December 15, 2014 edition of The Local of Paris has a slightly different version of events and instead claims that Cookie had been allowed out into an enclosed garden at the hotel. (See "Cat Returns after Twelve-Hundred Kilometer Trek Across France.")

Regardless of the exact circumstances, Cookie disappeared without so much as a trace on March 7th and it did not take Bouchery long in order to arrive at the most logical explanation. "J'ai cru qu'on me l'avait volé," she declared to L'Express.

She searched for him, put up Lost Cat posters, and even placed an advertisement in the local newspaper but Cookie was nowhere to be found. Once she had completed her assignment, she reluctantly left Grasse without him on April 30th and returned home to Beaumont-en-Auge.

She accordingly picked up her old life and soon forgot all about Cookie. On August 26, 2014, however, she received an unexpected telephone call from a veterinarian in Orbec, forty kilometers southwest of Beaumont-en-Auge, informing her that Cookie was alive and well and that a positive identification of him had been made thanks to an implanted microchip.

"C'est une dame qui lui a apporté, il était amaigri et sale," Bouchery told the Nice Matin on December 12, 2014. (See "Un chat, disparu à Grasse, parcourt un millier kilomètre pour retrouver sa maîtresse en Normandie.")"Elle voulait le garder, mais la gendarmerie lui a demandé de me le rendre..."

Cookie supposedly had shown up at the unidentified woman's house three months previously but that seems unlikely not only given his emaciated and unhygienic condition but because she had waited for so long to take him to a veterinarian in order to have him treated for an infestation of fleas. Despite the police and the veterinarian demanding that she immediately return him to Bouchery, the woman inexplicably took him en vacances with her for seven weeks.

It therefore was not until either October 13th or October 14th that Cookie finally was reunited with Bouchery. Even then, she was immediately confronted with the same old dilemma that had led to his disappearance in the first place.

"Il a montré quelques appréhensions en retrouvant la maison," she candidly disclosed to L'Express."Elles se sont vite effacées pour laisser place à un concert de ronronnements, et des câlins interminables."

Even more alarmingly, Bouchery wasted no time in demonstrating that she had learned absolutely nothing from her previously irresponsible guardianship of Cookie. "If fait un cirque pour se nicher dans le grenier de la maison, où il a trouvé son petit nid douillet pour la journée, et la nuit, il vit dehors, librement."

As for how that Cookie traversed the roughly eleven-hundred-four kilometers that separate Grasse on the Mediterranean from Orbec on the Baie de la Seine in the far north, Bouchery believes that he walked the entire distance. "Comme les oies sauvages, je pense qu'il s'est orienté grâce aux étoiles, marchant la nuit et dormant le jour," she speculated to Nice Matin."C'est un chat extraordinaire, qui a du caractère certes, mais facile. Je suis éblouie et admirative de ce qu'il a fait."

Whereas such an explanation cannot be completely ruled out, it nonetheless seems highly unlikely. A much more plausible account of events would be that he, much like Spice, was stolen in Grasse and then transported by motor car to somewhere in the vicinity of Orbec and then, for whatever reason, dumped.

Nowadays there are simply too many vehicles on the road, too many super highways, bridges, and other man-made obstructions to make such a long and dangerous journey feasible. Why, it would be practically impossible for even a human to pull off such a feat without occasionally having recourse to modern forms of conveyance in order to ford streams and to pass through tunnels.

In addition to the perils posed by motorists, he would have had to dealt with the machinations of dogs, wild animals, and ailurophobes. On top of all of that, he did not have any obvious means of procuring food, water, and shelter while en route.

Tall tales of this sort nevertheless endure, especially in France. Par exemple, back in 2007 a cat named Mimine is alleged to have walked from Bordeaux in the south to Treveray, Meuse, in the north. (See Cat Defender post of April 27, 2007 entitled "A French Chat Named Mimine Allegedly Walks Eight-Hundred-Thirty Kilometers in Order to Track Down the Family That Abandoned Her.")

Although Bouchery should have been grateful for having been given another opportunity in order to do right by Cookie, she instead has chosen to abdicate her moral responsibilities to him in favor of a false reliance upon modern technology. "Comme quoi il ne faut jamais désespérer...et pucer son animal," she pontificated to Nice Matin.

Besides, her work is far more important to her than his personal safety. In fact, she at last word was contemplating writing a book about his misadventures. "J'en ferais bien un livre pour enfants avec des aquarelles, mais je ne veux pas non plus trahir la réalité de l'histoire," she conceded to Nice Matin.

8.) George. A Footloose Senior Citizen Is Rescued by a Pet Store.

George

"It was quite a shock to see how skinny George was when he first arrived here. His teeth were also in a terrible state which would have meant eating was difficult and very painful for him."
-- Deana Perrin of Margaret Green Animal Rescue

The callous disregard with which societies all over the world treat elderly and infirm cats continues to sadden and infuriate at the same time. For example, in September a handsome eleven and one-half year old orange-colored cat with sad eyes named George wandered into a Pets at Home outlet in Liskeard, Cornwall.

After graciously feeding the badly emaciated tom, staffers next telephoned Margaret Green's Wingletang Rescue and Rehoming Centre for Dogs and Cats in Tavistock, Devon, which promptly came and collected him. It was not until after examining him, however, that staffers learned the full extent of the impact that living on the street had taken on his health.

"It was quite a shock to see how skinny George was when he first arrived here," the charity's Deana Perrin later stated. "His teeth were also in a terrible state which would have meant eating was difficult and very painful for him."

As a matter of fact, they were so far gone that they had to be removed and George accordingly was placed on a diet of soft food. After that, he not only was able to put on weight but for the first time in a long while was free of pain.

That left a hairless ring around his neck as his sole remaining health concern. "It was obvious that George had been in a home at some point as he had a mark around his neck where a collar had been," Perrin pointed out. "At some point his collar must have been excruciatingly tight as the skin around his neck is completely bald."

It is not known how that Margaret Green elected to treat his neck but it sometimes can be exceedingly difficult to get fur to regrow once it has been either torn out or severely stunted. A surgical transplant would have been one option but such a procedure is not only expensive but may not have been deemed advisable in George's case considering his advanced years.

In addition to the telltale evidence of a collar, George's friendly demeanor and love of cuddling are two additional indications that he at one time had belonged to someone. Nevertheless, in spite of his photograph appearing in the local press no one ever came forward in order to reclaim him and that strongly suggests that he had been heartlessly abandoned in order to fend for himself by his previous owner.

Margaret Green accordingly set about attempting to secure a rural home for him but it, regrettably, is not known whatever became of him. Because of his engaging personality, however, he quickly had become a huge favorite of both staffers and volunteers who insisted that he was more than welcome to remain with them for as long as it took in order to find him a new home. (See Cat Defender post of March 23, 2015 entitled "Old, Sickly, and on the Street, George Accidentally Wanders into a Pet Store and That, in All Likelihood, Saved His Life.")

9.) Lewis. Loyal Garden Shop Cat Meets His Waterloo on Boxing Day.

Lewis

"He met me at the door every morning. There will never be another cat like Lewis."
-- Mark Hodesh

Perfidy, ungratefulness, and malice aforethought are the hallmark virtues of man and that petit fait was nowhere more in evidence during 2014 than in how cleverly seventy-year-old Mark Hodesh schemed to successfully get rid of his faithful eighteen-year-old feline companion, Lewis. For fifteen years the duo had toiled side-by-side at Hodesh's Downtown Home and Garden in Ann Arbor, Michigan, but theirs was far from being an equitable relationship. C'est-à-dire, Lewis received only room and board whereas Hodesh reaped a financial bonanza as the result of all the paying customers that his presence brought into his store.

"We walked in after looking from the outside and (Lewis) was lying right there on the bench," Brian Wolfe of Superior Charter Township, eighteen kilometers east of Ann Arbor, later recalled. "It was always nice seeing the cat there."

Longtime store employee Sarah Kaufman testified to the fact that Lewis had become an Ann Arbor institution over the course of his tenure at the store. "A million kids learned how to pet a cat on his head," she recalled. "People in their twenties bring in their kids and say 'my mom used to come bring me to see this cat.' He was really amazing."

Even Hodesh echoed those sentiments. "It was an immediate fit," he agreed. "He ended up being very friendly to people."

The good times came to an abrupt end on Boxing Day when Hodesh, from all outward appearances, took him to an unidentified veterinarian and had his life extinguished. Rather than admitting that was what had happened, he instead lamely attempted to obscure the ugly truth by being deliberately vague about the circumstances surrounding Lewis's death.

"Lewis, the orange tabby store cat at Downtown Home and Garden, has died peacefully at about twenty (sic) years of age," was all that he was willing to divulge in a December 26th posting on the store's Facebook page.

Even so, the case against him is pretty much incontrovertible. First of all, he never has disclosed how that Lewis met his Waterloo. Secondly, he apparently was not ailing but rather a robust fifteen pounds.

Thirdly, the selection of Boxing Day is a dead giveaway. Not only is that date popular with owners who choose to have their cats killed off, but the same holds true for those of them who dump their faithful companions at shelters and in the street.

Fourthly, Hodesh already had sold the store and December 31st was scheduled to have been his last day as proprietor. Moreover, the new owner apparently did not have any interest whatsoever in either retaining Lewis's services or acquiring a replacement for him.

"The cat is a legendary part of the business," Kelly Vore said afterwards. "That is a vacancy I wouldn't even begin to try to fill."

Yet in spite of uttering those sentiments, less than three months later she adopted a ten-year-old orange cat named Wallace from the Humane Society of Huron Valley in Ann Arbor and installed him at her shop. (See The Ann Arbor News, March 23, 2015, "Ann Arbor's Downtown Home and Garden Welcomes Wallace the Cat.")

As if having killed off Lewis were not horrific enough in its own right, it does not appear in hindsight that the fifteen years that he slaved away at the store for peanuts were all that great either. First of all, he was left alone evenings, nights, holidays, and whenever else the store was closed.

Secondly, Hodesh irresponsibly placed his life in danger by allowing him to roam the perilous street of Ann Arbor at night without an escort. Thirdly, Hodesh nakedly exploited Lewis's good nature for profit while simultaneously providing him with precious little in return.

Worst of all, he apparently had Lewis killed off when it would have been so easy for an individual of his means to have placed him in either another home or at a sanctuary. After all that he had so freely given to Hodesh, the store, and the community, Lewis deserved at least that much.

During his lengthy tenure at the store, he often could be found either lounging on a bench across from the till or sleeping on the radiator during the long, cold winter months. During the summer, he was a familiar sight in Bill's Beer Garden, which Hodesh operates evenings in the store's parking lot.

All of that is now ancient history. "I knew something was wrong today (December 27th) when I walked in and he wasn't lying there," Wolfe later recalled but even he failed to realize just how irreversibly wrong things had become and, even more distressingly, that they never could be made right again.

"He met me at the door every morning," is how that Hodesh chose to eulogize him. "There will never be another cat like Lewis."

On the individual level he sans doute is correct, but speaking more generally he is dead wrong. That is because for as long as owners like him are allowed to murder their cats once they no longer have any use for them the killing is never going to stop.

The problem therefore is not that there never will be another Lewis but rather that there are far too many people in this world who think and behave like Hodesh. (See Cat Defender post of January 15, 2015 entitled "Lewis, Ann Arbor's Much Celebrated Garden Shop Cat, Departs This Vale of Tears Under Highly Suspicious Circumstances.")

10.) Örvar. Reykjavík Cat Is Reunited with His Owner after a Seven-Year Hiatus.

Örvar and Birkir Fjalar Viðarsson

"I think the universe decided to reunite us for the final chapter in his life so that he can enjoy his golden years in a dignified manner."
-- Birkir Fjalar Viðarsson

During the autumn of 2007, a handsome ginger and white cat of undetermined age named Örvar disappeared from the residence of Birkir Fjalar Viðarsson in Reykjavík. He searched everywhere that he could think of and even contacted the local shelter, Kattholt, but all of his efforts proved to have been in vain.

He finally was forced into concluding that Örvar either was dead or had been taken in by a stranger. "All I could do was hope that somebody nice had stolen him," he told the Iceland Review of Reykjavík on April 10, 2014. (See "Missing Reykjavík Cat Found Seven Years Later.")

Closure was made all the more difficult in that his soul was rent asunder with misgivings over having adopted a puppy shortly before his cat had vanished. "I really mourned this cat; I blamed myself for this and wondered what would have happened had I not gotten the puppy," he confessed to the Iceland Review."It took me a long time to get over this and I thought about it regularly."

In spite of all of that, Viðarsson did eventually get over the loss of Örvar and went on with his life. In February, however, he received the shock of his life when staffers at Kattholt telephoned and informed him not only that Örvar was still alive but that he was in their custody.

Perhaps every bit as amazingly, Örvar had not forgotten him despite their long separation. "When I arrived, I was told that Örvar was shy and kept to himself in the corner. But when I called out his name he came running, climbed on top of me and wrapped his body around me," Viðarsson later confided to the Iceland Review."It was as if we had never been apart. It was lovely."

Afterwards, he took Örvar to a local veterinarian where he was pronounced to be in good health. If that had not been the case, this story in all likelihood would have had an altogether different dénouement considering that Viðarsson, all protestations of abiding love aside, is anything but a respecter of life.

"At first I really couldn't believe it. I did not not know what to expect," he said of the unexpected bolt from the blue that arrived courtesy of Kattholt. "So I prepared for the worst; maybe he had lost an eye or an ear. Maybe he would have to be humanely put out of his misery."

Such sentiments are beyond repulsive. First of all, cats with missing eyes and ears can get on just fine in this world.

Much more importantly, all cats have an inalienable right to live regardless of whether they have as little as five minutes or as much as twenty years' worth of life left in them. How that he could even contemplate killing a cat that he had not so much as seen in seven years staggers the mind and infuriates the conscience.

In spite of all of that, his reunion with Örvar appears to have gotten off on the right foot. "Before bringing him home I didn't know what to expect," he confided to the Iceland Review."But he seems very happy. He just lies in his bed and enjoys life."

The number one concern going forward, however, is what Viðarsson is going to do with him once he becomes either ill, elderly, or his presence is simply no longer wanted. For whatever it is worth, he maintains that he is firmly committed to Örvar.

"I think the universe decided to reunite us for the final chapter in his life so that he can enjoy his golden years in a dignified manner," he declared to the Iceland Review."Now that Örvar's home I'm not giving him up again."

Although it is not known if the puppy was the reason that led to Örvar's disappearance, great care must always be observed whenever bringing together cats and dogs under the same roof. Any additional companions that Viðarsson may have acquired during the intervening years is an additional concern and that is especially the case if Örvar has spent either most or all of his life in a one-animal family.

Finally, Örvar's trials and tribulations have once again exposed both the pluses and minuses of relying upon implanted microchips as the preferred method of keeping track of cats. While it is true that one of these devices was partially responsible for his reunion with Viðarsson, that almost never came about because the latter had neglected to update his contact information in the database that is linked up to the chip inside of Örvar.

Instead, Viðarsson has Kattholt to thank for returning his cat to him in that it devoted no less than two weeks of its valuable time into locating him. Maintaining up-to-date contact information in microchip databases is made all the more imperative given that it is not all that uncommon for lost cats to turn up as much as fifteen years later at shelters and veterinarians' offices.

Those owners who truly love their cats accordingly should be willing not only to keep their contact information current but, more importantly, to pony up the money that database administrators demand in order to provide this valuable service. Cats and misfortune travel the same rocky and winding road in this world and that in turn makes it almost impossible for their owners to anticipate all the calamities that may one day befall them.

11.) Jordan. Handsome Tuxedo Is Granted a Library Card by the University of Edinburgh.

Jordan

"External users can use the library -- he has his own reference card. Someone at the Help Desk made up the card with a photo."
-- Caroline Stirling of the University of Edinburgh Library

In what may have been a first-of-its-kind development, a handsome eight-year-old tuxedo named Jordan was given a library card by the University of Edinburgh. It is not known, however, if he ever used it in order to borrow any library materials and, if so, what types of literature he preferred.

Rather, he seems to have found a much more practicable use for the library, which was founded in 1580 and contains more than two and one-half million volumes. "He just tends to come in and sleep on the chairs near the door," thirty-seven-year-old Caroline Stirling of the library's Help Desk disclosed in December. "I think everyone quite likes him."

Adopted in 2006 by Father Dermot Morrin of St. Albert's Chaplaincy at 23-24 George Square, Jordan from all indications apparently lived contentedly with the Dominican friars until the discovered the existence of the library. "He is really popular," Stirling added. "He has been coming in for at least a year."

Although it is not known what prompted him to forsake the cozy confines of the monastery in favor of the library, the most likely scenario is that he serendipitously turned up outside the latter facility one day and was helped inside by an obliging student. There seems to be little doubt, however, that in addition to the library's comfortable sleeping chairs, the attentions lavished on him by both students and staffers is another reason that kept him coming back day after day.

"Everyone loves Jordan. It's lovely how he is always in those seats inside the library," twenty-two-year-old student Heidi Karjalainen testified. "He's like a substitute for my cat home in Finland."

Morrin seconded her observations. "You've got a lot of international students here and the appeal of the cat is domestic," he pointed out. "It makes them feel more at home. The students say its (sic) stress relieving because he's in the library when they study."

As things eventually developed, the students' gain translated into the friars' loss. "He ignores us when he sees us in the square," Morrin disclosed. "He ignores us indoors as well unless he wants feeding."

After a while Jordan became such a familiar figure at the library that one of Stirling's underlings decided to make him a bona fide patron of that ancient temple of learning. "External users can use the library -- he has his own reference card," she explained. "Someone at the Help Desk made up the card with a photo. He doesn't have to have it with him when he comes in."

It is a good thing that the library elected to waive that last requirement because he would have had a difficult time hanging on to it. Even that issue soon became moot because on March 13, 2016 this magical interlude in time came to an abrupt end when he disappeared without so much as a trace. (See Cat Defender post of October 3, 2017 entitled "Jordan, the University of Edinburgh's Library Cart, Disappears into Thin Air but No One Either Cares, Knows or Is Willing to Say What Has Happened to Him.")

12.) Salem. Beloved Barn Cat Disappears from Historic Lewis Oliver Farm on Long Island.

Salem Is Long Gone but Not Forgotten

"Anyone who has ever had a pet, knows how much they are a part of our family and can imagine how worried we have been for this past almost year."
-- Lorene Eriksen

For any true fan of the species, there is never any getting over the loss of a cat. After a while the pain sometimes subsides but the loss is always still there much like a swollen thumb that stubbornly refuses to return to its normal size.

In Jordan's case, neither his owner nor the University of Edinburgh apparently did anything in order to locate him after he mysteriously disappeared. It was an altogether different matter with Lorene Eriksen of the historic Lewis Oliver Farm Sanctuary in Northport Village on Long Island when her beloved cat Salem vanished on August 14th.

In particular, she put out an Amber Alert, canvassed door-to-door, posted Lost Cat posters throughout the neighborhood, and looked in garages. When none of those efforts bore fruit, she turned to both mainstream as well as social media, a mailing service, a telephone service that specializes in locating lost pets, and even offered a US$1,500 reward for her safe return.

None of those latter efforts were any more successful than her earlier ones and that led her to conclude that she likely had seen the last of the petit black female that she had rescued, along with her twin sister Sabrina, from a homeless colony back in 2007. She accordingly concluded that Salem most likely had either left of her own volition, gotten into a scrap with another cat, or succumbed to the machinations of a hit-and-run motorist.

She also fully realized that someone could have stolen her and that theory took on added significance when an unidentified visitor to the farm in June of 2015 informed her about seeing a now deleted post on a Facebook page entitled Moms of Huntington, New York, concerning "the friendly black cat at Lewis Oliver Farm" and how that the author felt "so bad for it."

"Needless to say, this was a shocking revelation and a substantial break in what had remained a mystery behind her disappearance," Eriksen said in July of 2015. She and her fellow volunteers who keep the farm going then attempted to track down the author of the post without success.

"The fact that the post no longer appears on the page tells us that the person who likely took Salem after writing about her either lost her in the process of 'rescuing' her or simply has no intentions of coming forward to clear up what could very well have been a case of mistaken identity (that she was homeless)," Eriksen lamented.

What she is referring to is an all-too-common occurrence whereby concerned individuals abduct cats from the street erroneously believing them to be either homeless or neglected. Other individuals simply steal cats because they are either too cheap to pony up the adoption fees that shelters demand or too lazy to socialize those that are homeless. It thus remains very much an open question to this very day whether Salem was intentionally or mistakenly stolen.

Eriksen also issued a plaintive call for Salem's alleged abductor to demonstrate "empathy and compassion" by promptly returning her but so far that has not happened. "Anyone who has ever had a pet, knows how much they are a part of our family and can imagine how worried we have been for this past almost year," she concluded.

In spite of all the time that has run off the clock, Eriksen steadfastly continues to search high and low for her beloved cat. "Three years ago today our funny, sweet, and sassy little friend abruptly vanished from our lives taking with her all of her crazy antics, her larger-than-life personality, and a piece of our hearts," she wrote August 14, 2017 on the Facebook page entitled Lost Cat Salem. "While we don't need a date on the calendar to be reminded of Salem, we ask that you help us remind everyone that we will always be searching, worrying, and missing her by sharing this post and her story by visiting Salem's page..." (See Cat Defender post of October 13, 2017 entitled "The Love Lives On for Salem at a Long Island Farm Sanctuary Even Though She Has Been Missing for More Than Three Years.")

13.) Mayhem. Abandoned North Carolina Tom Tracks Down His Owner to Her New Address.

Mayhem

"We had been here for about three weeks and I was sitting out on the porch and heard a cat meowing. I walked over to the fence and called to him because I couldn't see anything, and he came bounding under the fence and I have been in shock ever since."
-- Jill Roberson

The most baffling story of the year concerned an eighteen-month-old gray and white tom named Mayhem from Rutherfordton, North Carolina. As far as it has been revealed, all went normally in his young life until his owner, Jill Roberson, changed houses in February and in doing so elected to get rid of him.

That simply unpardonable decision was arrived at supposedly because her new abode is located on a busy street. Not wanting to confine him indoors but afraid to allow him to roam under such perilous circumstances, she fobbed him off on an unidentified couple that lives on a farm ten kilometers out of town.

Normally, she and Mayhem never would have crossed paths again but he had other plans in store for her."We had been here for about three weeks and I was sitting out on the porch and heard a cat meowing," she later disclosed. "I walked over to the fence and called to him because I couldn't see anything, and he came bounding under the fence and I have been in shock ever since."

For whatever it is worth, Roberson insists that Mayhem never had been at her new house previously and that brings up the perplexing matter of how that he was able to locate her. The most logical explanation is that the couple belatedly decided that they did not want him and in turn dumped him in the vicinity of her new address figuring that he then would be able to locate her on his own.

An even more implausible explanation is that Mayhem returned home and from there proceeded to track Roberson to her new house by smell. "It is just a miracle to us," was the sum total of light that she was able to shine on this Chinese puzzle.

Kimberly Lednum of the Rutherford Animal Hospital in Rutherfordton was every bit as flabbergasted. "Given this particular situation, absolutely, it defies all logic," she testified.

Other than being dirty and skinny, Mayhem came through his misadventures unscathed. Unfortunately, his travails did not change a blessed thing in that Roberson still resides on a busy thoroughfare that is way too busy for him to be allowed outside.

Compounding matters even further, it is highly improbable that she has mended her callous ways so as thus to become the loving and conscientious guardian that he so desperately needs and deserves. "It just confirms that pets have feelings," she said afterwards. "We loved him, but we didn't realize he loved us that much, that he would track us down."

Her last statement is pure malarkey in that no one who truly cares about a cat would so much as ever contemplate abandoning it, let alone actually going through with the commission of such a revolting and despicable crime. Moreover, absolutely no one who cared about the happiness of an outside cat ever would relocate to a house that is located on a busy street.

It is not known whatever became of Mayhem but with such an irresponsible and uncaring owner as Roberson his prospects were anything but encouraging. (See Cat Defender post of April 10, 2014 entitled "Mayhem Inexplicably Finds His Way to the New Address of the North Carolina Owner Who Earlier Had Cruelly Abandoned Him.")

14.) Jasper. Northumbrian Tom Is Abandoned to Ride the Trains by His Lonesome.

Jasper

"He's avoided a lot of scrapes so far so there's no need to worry about him."
-- Steph Keenan

Irresponsibly turning loose a cat to ride the rails can be almost as dangerous as allowing one to venture out into street traffic. Yet, that so far has not fazed forty-two-year-old psychotherapist Steph Keenan of Waterville Terrace in North Shields, thirteen kilometers east of Newcastle-upon-Tyne in Northumbria, the least little bit.

Seemingly oblivious to the myriad of perils that she is knowingly subjecting him to, she has turned loose her eighteen-month-old ginger tom Jasper to ride the Tyne and Wear Metro's Yellow Line for weeks on end. "He's a real monkey," is how that she has described him. "I can only presume some of it what he gets up to but the places he's ended up can only mean he's been on the Metro."

For instance, on Guy Fawkes Day of 2013 he went AWOL for six weeks before an unidentified woman from Jesmond, eleven kilometers removed from North Shields, found him and took him to a veterinarian in Heaton, a residential suburb in the East End of Newcastle. Thanks to an implanted microchip, he was reunited with Keenan just in time for Christmas.

On another occasion, he took the Yellow Line to the Meadow Well Train Station, three kilometers from North Shields, and was gone for a week. He additionally is known to have ridden the train to Four Lands Ends in Longbenton, ten kilometers from home.

Although she is an exceedingly busy individual with four children to raise and a live-in lover to look after in addition to her job, there is absolutely nothing in press reports that would tend to indicate that she has invested so much as one minute of her time searching for Jasper on any of those occasions when he has gone missing. Au contraire, she is so callous as to have publicly complained about having been forced to take time away from her job and family in order to go and fetch him.

"People have actually gone to great lengths to pick him up and take him to a vet or shelter which can be a real inconvenience," she groused. "I was quite annoyed when I had to go pick him up the last time."

In addition to harboring such a thoroughly reprehensible attitude in her bosom, Keenan also seems to be oblivious to the dangers that very easily could claim Jasper's fragile life at any moment. "He has wandered far and wide and has very few of his nine lives remaining," she briefly conceded before cavalierly dismissing those concerns. "He's avoided a lot of scrapes so far so there's no need to worry about him."

That last statement conclusively demonstrates that she either desperately wants rid of Jasper or is so mentally deranged that she has lost touch with reality. If the authorities in North Shields cared anything at all about Jasper's safety they would promptly remove him from her care.

In fact, that should have been done a long time ago considering that her neglect of him dates all the way back to his kittenhood. For instance, she has admitted to no less than allowing him to get stuck up a chimney, trapped inside a neighbor's house, and stranded inside another neighbor's garage during the first six weeks of his turbulent life.

There are even problems with that admission in that kittens, generally speaking, do not even begin to walk until they are around four weeks of age and even then they seldom stray more than a few feet from their mothers' sides. If Jasper did in fact make it up a chimney and onto the grounds of neighboring homeowners it more than likely was because someone connected to the Keenan household transported him to those locations because it is highly doubtful that he traveled that far of his own volition and on his own steam. Furthermore, it never has been explained either where his mother was while all of that was going on or, more importantly, what ultimately became of her.

The Tyne and Wear Metro likewise is complicit in Keenan's abject neglect of Jasper by continuing to allow him to venture onto its trains. Under such perilous circumstances, he easily could be either run down and killed by one of its engineers or fall through a crack in a boarding platform never to be seen again. Even if he should be fortunate enough in order to avoid those calamities, there is always the ever-present fear that he could be either stolen or become permanently lost.

Since no additional stories have appeared in the media concerning him it is impossible to say what has become of him. The only thing that can be ventured with any certainty is that he desperately needs and deserves a far more responsible owner than Keenan. (See Cat Defender post of January 31, 2014 entitled "Northumbrian Shrink Lays Claim to the Title of Being the World's Most Irresponsible Cat Owner by Turning Loose Jasper to Roam the Perilous Tyne and Wear Metro for Weeks on End.")

15.) Dodger. Dorset Tom Who Rode the Buses by His Lonesome Is Killed Off by His Owner.

Dodger Aboard a Bus

"It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make. I cancelled it twice."
-- Fee Jeanes

Fifteen-year-old, orange-colored Dodger made quite a name for himself in and around Bridport in Dorset by making sixteen-kilometer, unescorted trips between Bridport and Charmouth on First Bus. He also made excursion trips along the Jurassic Coast on the number fifty-three bus which runs between Poole in Dorset and Exeter in Devonshire.

On those occasions when he was not actually riding the buses, he usually could be found cooling his heels at the bus station in Bridport.  All the riding and waiting around for buses came to an abrupt end in early 2012 when his owner, forty-six-year-old Fee Jeanes, took him to Bredy Veterinary Centre on Sea Road North and had him killed off after he had been diagnosed with a stomach tumor.

No mention ever was made regarding whether or not his life could have been extended by treating the malignancy. The fateful decision to end it was not, however, one that she apparently took lightly.

"It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make," she said afterwards. "I cancelled it twice."

Even so, she nonetheless got over his death rather quickly. "Dodger had a good life. He was a brilliant cat and was spoilt rotten," is how that she chose to eulogize him. "He made a lot of people happy. The response to him was amazing."

To her credit, she did provide him with a final resting place in her garden and she even took the time and effort in order to post a notice at the bus station so as to inform the commuters of his death. That is only half of the story, however, and the remainder of it constitutes one of the most disturbing cases of feline neglect on record.

Absolutely nothing is known about either Dodger's prior life or how long that he had been with Jeanes. As far as his public persona is concerned, it consists solely of the time that he spent with her after she had relocated from parts unknown to busy and congested West Street in Bridport.

None of that in any way deterred her, however, from deliberately abandoning him to eke out a hardscrabble existence in the street, on the buses, and at the bus station. "We moved here nineteen months ago and our house backs on to the bus station," she divulged in late 2011. "He is an old boy and is every friendly. Sometimes he just sits in the middle of the road and waits for the bus to turn up before he gets on."

Aside from the fact that it was nothing short of a minor miracle that he was not run down and killed by a motorist long ago, Jeanes did not even know where he was the vast majority of the time. "He's down there (at the bus station) all day and I have to go out in the night to make sure he is okay," she candidly admitted.

Most astonishing of all, she did not see anything at all wrong with knowingly placing his fragile life in such grave jeopardy. "He's absolutely fine," she instead retorted. "He comes home and sleeps at the end of my bed and spends the rest of the day at the bus station."

In addition to the persistent threat posed by motorists, Dodger easily could have gotten lost on any one of his bus trips. He also could have been either stolen or victimized by an ailurophobe.

As things eventually turned out, it very well could have been his scavenging that led to his undoing. "He loves it there (the bus station) because there are lots of people around and they all drop their sandwiches and pork pies," Jeanes said in 2012.

Actually, it is doubtful if that were true. Rather, Dodger was forced to live at the station and on the buses because neither Jeanes nor her three children were willing to stay home with him and to attend to his needs.

A lifetime hoofer herself, Jeanes operates the Fee Jeanes Toddlers Ballet on Victoria Grove Street and that is about all that interests her. "It is something I love doing. I guess it started as a hobby and has just gone from strength to strength," she declared. "Seeing children having fun, while at the same time learning basic ballet with good discipline and enjoyment is what is important to me."

Quite obviously, an owner as callous and irresponsible as her never had any business in acquiring a cat in the first place. Rather, she should have stuck to hoofing. (See Cat Defender posts of August 27, 2014 and January 25, 2012 entitled, respectively, "After Traveling for So Many Miles on the Bridport to Charmouth Bus, Dodger's Last Ride Is, Ironically, to the Vet Who Unconscionably Snuffs Out His Precious Life at the Urging of His Derelict Owner" and "The Innocence of the Lambs: Unaware of the Dangers That Threaten His Very Existence, Dodger Charms Commuters on the Bridport to Charmouth Line.")

16.) Percy. Peripatetic Black Tom Is Believed to Still Be Riding the Rails in Scarborough.

Percy Is Famous Now

"I am delighted to confirm that Percy the cat does still visit us here at Scarborough Sea Life Sanctuary."
-- a spokesperson for the aquarium

Back in 2006, a jet-black cat named Percy from Green Howards Drive in the Peasholm Park section of Scarborough in North Yorkshire started riding the miniature antique trains of the North Bay Railway (NBR). Specifically, he would take them on a more or less weekly basis from his home to the Sea Life and Marine Sanctuary in the Scalby Mills section of town.

His adventures were greatly facilitated by the fact that a one-way trip on the 1.4 kilometer line takes only about three minutes. Best of all, the trains do not make any stops en route and that eliminates the danger of him disembarking at the wrong stop and therefore getting lost.

Railroad personnel and riders on the popular line also keep an eye out for his safety. "The train passengers love him and make a fuss of him," Phil Hart, a security guard with the NBR, disclosed in 2009. "He's a lovely cat."

Once he arrives at his destination, Percy has pretty much a full plate in order to keep him busy. "He particularly likes watching the penguins but unfortunately they get scared of him so we have to move him away," the aquarium's Sharon Jarvis disclosed in 2009. "But he's harmless."

The real attraction for him, however, are the workers and the attentions that they lavish on him. "As a seasoned regular now, he likes to spend a lot of time being the center of attention in the staff room," an unidentified spokesperson for the attraction disclosed in a November 4, 2014 e-mail letter.

That in turn was an affirmation of the sentiments that Jarvis earlier expressed in 2009. "We all love Percy and we are sure he will carry on coming here," she predicted.

By now he would be getting on in years so it is not possible to say with any certainty if he is still even alive let alone visiting the aquarium. Nevertheless, that most definitely was still the case a few years back. "I am delighted to confirm that Percy the cat does still visit us here at Scarborough Sea Life Sanctuary," the spokesperson disclosed in the letter cited supra.

Even though the dangers that his unescorted rambles expose him to are nothing compared with those that Jasper faces, that does not in any way mean that they are inconsequential. For starters, he is forced to cross the street in order to get to and from the train station in Peasholm Park and that in turn makes him easy prey for motorists.

He also could be attacked at any time by both ailurophobes and dogs. The biggest concern, however, is not his riding of the rails but rather his owner's unconscionable decision to allow him to stay out all night.

"He likes to get about and he's always losing the tags with our phone number on them," Yale Michael disclosed in 2009. "Sometimes he comes back in the morning, sometimes at night, but he always makes it home in the end."

As for how that he got started riding the trains in the first place, Michael attributes that to his having been born on a farm. A far more plausible explanation is that Michael and his family, like Jeanes and hers, is frequently away from home. It likewise is conceivable that they also neglect him even when they are at home.

That unsubstantiated assumption is based solely upon the fact that sterilized cats who have doting and caring owners usually prefer to spend time with them as opposed to perfect strangers. The good news is that, at least so far, staffers at both the aquarium and the NBR have been willing to fill in the void in Percy's life.

Regardless of how it all ends for him in the here and now, his memory is destined to live on in Joe Coates' 2013 tome, Percy the Cat of North Bay Railway. (See Cat Defender posts of February 6, 2014 and November 14, 2009 entitled, respectively, "Lovable and Adventurous Percy Is Still Very Much Alive and Riding the Miniature Trains in Scarborough" and "Percy Takes the Train All by Himself in Order to Visit the Penguins at an Aquarium in Scarborough.")

17.) Peat. Popular Scottish Distillery Kitten Is Killed by a Hit-and-Run Motorist.

Peat

"The Glenturret Distillery team are heartbroken."
-- Lesley Williamson

Just how terribly fleeting life can be for cats that are allowed to venture out into traffic by their utterly irresponsible owners was driven home firsthand to the staff of the Glenturret Distillery, located on the banks of the Turret River three kilometers northwest of Crieff in Perthshire, on September 8th when its recently installed resident feline, Peat, was run down and killed by a hit-and-run driver. Found prostrate beside the road by an unidentified staffer, he was rushed to a local veterinarian where he shortly thereafter either died on his own or was deliberately killed off.

No arrest ever was made in connection with his death and it is highly unlikely that the authorities even bothered so much as to look into the matter. Most disturbing of all, the pretty light-brown cat with blue eyes was only six months old and had barely even begun to live.

"The Glenturret Distillery team are heartbroken," Lesley Williamson said shortly after his death. "He was inquisitive, fearless and a social cat and we will miss him terribly."

Although the distillery long has employed cats as mousers, that job nowadays is pretty much left to professional exterminators. Consequently, when Peat was brought on board in June it was not to catch mice but rather to charm the facility's more than one-hundred-thousand annual visitors.

In that respect, he was preeminently successful, even if his tenure was destined to have been a brief one. For example, in just a little more than two months on the job he already had attracted more than eight-hundred followers on Twitter.

"The fluffy little bundle has been charming his way into our visitors' hearts this week, has already made himself at home in our new Tasting Bar and is showing signs of settling in nicely," is how that Williamson earlier had summed up his immediate impact upon the distillery.

Peat was chosen over nine other kittens that had been born on a local farm belonging to Shona Stewart and she had been hoping that his newfound notoriety would prompt members of the public to offer homes to some of those that had been left behind. "We've been pleased to see Peat settling into his new role at the Famous Grouse Experience (a tour and a free shot of scotch) and he seems to have caught the imagination of the local and, indeed, world press," she marveled. "I'm really hoping that we find good homes for his siblings and cousins, some of whom are similar in coloring to Peat, and are just as cute."

Although it is not known whatever became of those kittens, there can be little doubt that Peat would have been better off if he had remained on the farm. His star shone brightly but it burned out all too soon. (See Cat Defender post of April 17, 2017 entitled "As Peat Tragically Found Out, Alcohol and Cats Are Such a Bad Mix That Even Working at a Distillery Can Be Deadly.")

18.) Archie. Lincolnshire Tom Is Knowingly Allowed to Sleep in the Middle of a Busy Road.

Archie

"He's probably Britain's bravest pet. He's certainly braver than me."
-- Iain Simpson

When it comes to irresponsible cat owners, Iain Simpson and Clare Smith from the village of Quarrington in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, are in the same league with Keenan. For instance, not only do they allow their four-year-old, brown and white resident feline, Archie, to stay out all night unchaperoned but they additionally permit him to go AWOL for weeks at a time without, apparently, even lifting so much as a finger in order to locate him.

Instead of availing themselves of the only morally acceptable option open to them, which would be to lock him up indoors at night, they instead have opted to fit him with a satellite tracking collar so as to find out where his rambles are taking him. "I've become fascinated with tracking Archie, but it is so worrying," Simpson acknowledged in March. "It's like worrying about a teenager on a night out. I know he's gone out but he'll never tell me where."

In Archie's case, he and Smith certainly have more than enough cause for concern after they learned, courtesy of the tracking device, that once he leaves their house he travels six kilometers to the A15 motorway, which stretches one-hundred-fifty-three kilometers from Peterborough, Cambridgeshire, in the north to Scawby in Lincolnshire, where he hangs out for hours. "He's a fearless tyke really," Simpson marveled. "The data from his tracker shows him being stationary in the middle of the road for hours at a time."

Even more troubling, that can mean only one thing. "I can only assume he's gone to sleep," Simpson added. "Maybe the sound of traffic relaxes him. I don't know."

Whereas such a revelation would be more than sufficient in order to not only scare the bejesus out of most cat owners but, more importantly, to prompt drastic remedial action on their part, that has not proven to be the case with Simpson. Rather, he seems to have settled for a combination of mild concern tinged with bemusement.

"I do know that he always comes back the next morning for his breakfast, none the wiser that I had been absolutely terrified for him," he acknowledged before sloughing off those concerns as being of secondary importance. "He's probably Britain's bravest pet. He's certainly braver than me."

That is because Archie is totally unaware of the dangers that threaten his very existence and under those circumstances it is Simpson's and Smith's responsibility to think and act for him and that entails nothing less than collecting him from the A15 and keeping him home at night. After all, data gleaned from a satellite tracking collar is totally worthless unless conscientious owners are will to act upon it.

Since most streets and roads of today are far too dangerous to allow any cat to venture on to them, it would be nothing short of a miracle if Archie were still alive today. (See Cat Defender post of March 29, 2017 entitled "Archie Is Knowingly Allowed to Sleep Smack-Dab in the Middle of a Busy Thoroughfare by His Derelict Owners Who Are Contented with Merely Tracking His Movements by Satellite.")

Photos: The Independent of London (Hamish McHamish), Tony R. Bennett of The Bangor Daily News (Simba), Facebook (Penny, Lewis, Salem, and Percy), the Albany Times-Union (Chance), www.moggies.co.uk (Butterscotch), Shawn Patrick Ouellette of the Portland Press Herald (Spice), Dan Bouchery (Cookie), The Plymouth Herald (George), the Iceland Review of Reykjavík (Örvar and Birkier Fjalar Viðarsson), Carbonated TV (Jordan), WSPA-TV of Spartanburg (Salem), The Chronicle of Newcastle (Jasper), the Daily Mail (Dodger), The Scotsman of Edinburgh (Peat), and The Sleaford Target of Lincolnshire (Archie).

Morris

"I saw the compassion in her eyes (his daughter's), and I knew I had to save (the) cat."
-- Tony Hernandez

The cat world has been plunged into mourning once again by the premature death of yet still another of its most cherished and long-suffering citizens. "It is with a very sad heart that I have to post that Morris the Glass Bank Cat was found deceased yesterday morning," it was somberly announced September 20th on the Facebook page, Save Morris the Glass Bank Cat. "There was no sign that he was feeling sick, so this was completely unexpected."

Since late May of 2014 he had resided at Purrs and Whiskers Shelter at 4251 Turtle Mund Road in Melbourne but since that organization has not released any additional information it is not known even if a necropsy was performed on him. It additionally has not been revealed what was done with his remains.

The best therefore that can be hoped for is that he was afforded a proper and dignified burial on the grounds complete with an appropriate grave marker and flowers. It would be painful to later learn that his corpse had been either burned to cinders or casually tossed out in the trash.

The orange Manx, who not only resembles but was named in honor of 9Lives®' emblematic figurehead, was catapulted into public consciousness during the third week of April in 2014 when he was accidentally spotted in an upper floor window of the condemned Glass Bank on North Orlando Avenue in Cocoa Beach, thirty-three kilometers north of Melbourne. Fortunately for him, the individual who first noticed his desperate plight was civic-minded and kindhearted attorney Tony Hernandez.

"We are always vigilant when we walk by it," he told Florida Today of Melbourne on April 30, 2014. (See "Lawyer Steps Up to Save Elusive Glass Bank Cat.")"We always look at it."

Constructed in 1960, the building originally was home to a branch of the ubiquitous First Federal Bank of Florida but it and the other tenants pulled up stakes and vacated the premises either before or shortly after Hurricane Frances pummelled the structure in 2004. Owner Frank Wolfe continued to live in the penthouse until January of 2014 when he too left, albeit by the Roman way.

Morris Was First Spotted in a Window at the Glass Bank

Even the structure's moniker had become obsolete by then in that much of its glass exterior had been covered over with concrete by as early as 1981. So, by the time that Hernandez had tumbled to Morris' presence he was the last known surviving soul still in the building and by then even it had an impending date with the wrecking ball.

Given that shysters are such notoriously tight-fisted penny-pinchers, it is far from clear what exactly motivated Hernandez to take on Morris as a pro bono client. "I really want that building demolished," he averred to Florida Today."I don't want this to turn into me being an animal activist and chaining myself to the fence, because that is not going to happen."

Later on in the same article, however, he was singing an altogether different tune. "That building already has a lot of bad, negative aura," he added. "Let the world know we are people with compassion, even when it comes to a little cat."

As is befitting a member of his profession, Hernandez later offered up a third version of events. "I saw the compassion in her eyes (his daughter's), and I knew I had to save (the) cat," he vowed to Florida Today on May 19, 2014. (See "Morris the Cat Captured at Doomed Glass Bank Building.")

Apparently it took even considerably more than his daughter's compassion to have gotten him off the schneid and that in turn led to his fourth explanation. "My daughter would not leave me alone about this," he confessed to WFTV of Orlando on May 23, 2014. (See "Morris the Cat Rescued from Glass Bank Building.")"She wanted me to assure her that the cat was going to be saved."

That would seem to be the most plausible explanation in that the persuasive powers of little girls and grown-up women never should be underestimated. Besides, the tender gender always has been a cat's best friend in a hostile world that is dominated by mean and nasty men and their belligerent dogs. (See Rudyard Kipling, "The Cat That Walked by Himself.")

Regardless of his true motivation, he did not waste any time in starting a spirited political campaign to save Morris that included the stringing a large banner in front of the bank and pledging to donate US$1,000 of his own money to any rescue group that would humanely trap and remove him from harm's way. He also established the above mentioned Facebook page which soon attracted such notables as the lovely Barbara Eden from the 1960's comedy television show, I Dream of Jeannie, and followers from as far away as Brazil.

Tony Hernandez Led and Financed the Rescue Effort

It took some doing but Morris was finally corralled on May 18th by, it is believed, representatives of Purrs and Whiskers. "It was an ongoing, clandestine effort on the part of real experts on cats," was the sum total of all that Hernandez was willing to divulge to Florida Today in the May 19th article cited supra."After several days of planning and executing, I must say the rescue effort went perfectly."

Morris immediately thereafter was transported to Clearlake Animal Hospital in Cocoa, twenty-four kilometers east of Cocoa Beach on the mainland, where he was sterilized, vaccinated, and put underneath the microscope. "Right now, the cat is at an undisclosed location where he is going through a three-day evaluation process," Hernandez added. "If experts say it's feral, we'll look for a registered colony for him. If it's adoptable, there's a long list of people. But they'll have to have the right house."

Apparently having tired of the entire affair, he quickly formulated plans to wash his hands of it. "We've had everybody asking us, television stations, CNN," he groused to Florida Today on May 19th. "I just want to have one good media blitz and put this whole story to rest."

That occurred a few days later on May 23rd when Morris, still caged but mercifully not bound and gagged, was introduced to the world and the media. Mayor Dave Netterstrom certainly did his part by declaring that occasion to be officially known now and forever as "Morris the Glass Bank Cat Day."

"I am very proud to be in a community that gets involved in so many different things," he told Florida Today on May 23, 2014. (See "Glass Bank Cat Gets His Own Day in Cocoa Beach.")

Even though Netterstrom and Hernandez may have been crowing like a pair of bantam roosters, Morris was conspicuously silent throughout the entire event. "Morris is not all too happy," Hernandez confided to Florida Today."We've evicted him from his beautiful skyriser(sic) across from the beach and (neutered) him, but it's in his own best interest."

That last admission on his part was in direct contradiction to what he had said a few weeks earlier after Morris had been successfully trapped. "My client would like to thank everyone for their support," he told Florida Today on May 19th.

Hernandez's Banner Out Front of the Doomed Bank

Be that as it may, he did not either flinch the least little bit or squeal like a stuck pig when it came to finally making good on his prior commitment to Morris. "I want everybody to remember what the best nation in the world is, and that is the Do Nation," he declared on that memorable occasion according to the account of the proceedings rendered in Florida Today on May 23rd. "Most of these animal rescue organizations survive financially on their own money, or money being donated by other people, so on behalf of Morris and my law firm, I would like to take this opportunity to donate to Purrs and Whiskers Shelter $1,000."

That prompted onlooker Mike McGahey of Canna Proposals in Cocoa Beach to chip in with another US$100 on the spot.

That in turn left it up to Mona Motz of Purrs and Whiskers to reveal to those assembled what lot in life she and her colleagues had assigned to Morris. "He is not extremely friendly like you would expect a lap cat to be," she told Florida Today in a prelude to lowering the boom on him. "He will be placed in either one of two feral cat colonies that are safe and cared for daily."

Translated into shirtsleeve English, she and her allies were too lazy to have bothered with socializing him for adoption. For example, if Tiny Kittens in Fort Langley, British Columbia, could socialize Grandpa Mason and Funds for Furry Friends in Brandon, Manitoba, could do likewise for Butterscotch, the evidence is overwhelming that almost any homeless cat can be tamed for eventual adoption. (See Cat Defender posts of July 24, 2017 and September 6, 2014 entitled, respectively, "A Rescue Group in British Columbia Compassionately Elects to Spare Grandpa Mason's Life and in Return for Doing So It Receives an Unexpected Reward Worth More Than Gold Itself" and "Butterscotch Is Finally Freed from a Bug Trap but His Deliverance Has Come at an Awfully High Price That He Will Be Repaying for the Remainder of His Days.")

That decision was all the more inexcusable given the subsequent amount of time and energy that the shelter invested in him before turning him loose at its fenced-in TNR colony. "We had to transition him. He didn't just get plunked in with this feral colony," Motz added to Florida Today on September 26, 2017. (See "Morris, the Glass Bank Cat of Cocoa Beach, Dies.") "We put him in what we call a relocation cage, which is like a big condo, and let him get used to the routine, the area, the sounds, the smells, the other cats."

In addition to large cages with elevated resting places, the shelter features one-thousand square feet of outdoor space for its resident felines to explore. It never has been revealed, however, how much of the time that Morris was confined to his cage or the amount of interaction that he was afforded with his human counterparts.

At least he did not suffer from a lack of feline companionship. "Morris had his buddies that he would hang out with," Motz revealed to Florida Today on September 26th.

A Frightened and Confused Morris Immediately after His Capture

That notwithstanding, a good argument could be made that he would have been far better off if Purrs and Whiskers had devoted its time, money, and energy toward socializing him for adoption as opposed to a lifetime behind bars at a fenced-in TNR colony. Furthermore, since it has not been disclosed how many cats live at the shelter and under what conditions it is not even possible to begin to properly evaluate the quality of life that Morris enjoyed there for the last three and one-third years of his life.

Although sanctuaries are most definitely a huge improvement over conventional, hellhole shelters, not all of them are created equal. For example, Tenth Life Sanctuary in Clewiston, two-hundred-fifty-eight kilometers south of Cocoa Beach, was closed in 2010 owing to unhygienic conditions and neglect of its inmates.

Worst still, in addition to failing to alleviate the plight of the suffering cats, that precipitate action served only to initial their death warrants. (See Cat Defender post of May 17, 2010 entitled "Julie Levy and Her Henchmen Ride to the Rescue of Maury Swee's Severely Neglected Cats and Promptly Slaughter at Least One-Hundred-Eighty-Five of Them.")

At Cats With No Name in Pine Grove, Pennsylvania, hundreds of felines were left to die of hunger and neglect by dope addicts Virginia Kresge Justiniano and Andy J. Oxenrider who ran the sanctuary. (See Cat Defender post of May 10, 2010 entitled "Lunatic Rulings in Cats With No Name Cruelty Cases Prove Once Again That Pennsylvania Is a Safe Haven for Cat Killers and Junkies.")

Politically speaking, fenced-in TNR colonies are a two-edged sword in that although they are undeniably a far safer alternative to those that do not have barriers, their very existence plays directly into the hands of the United States Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), ornithologists, and wildlife biologists who are determined to remove all cats from the great outdoors. For instance, with the able-bodied assistance of the phonies and traitors at the Humane Society of the United States in Washington, the USFWS was allowed to get away with pulling off precisely that type of a coup with the handful of cats that it allowed to escape from San Nicolas with their lives. (See Cat Defender posts of February 24, 2012 November 20, 2009, and April 28, 2009 entitled, respectively, "The United States Fish and Wildlife Service and the Humane Society Hoist a Glass in Celebration of Their Extermination of the Cats on San Nicolas Island,""Memo to the Humane Society: Tell the World Exactly How Many Cats You and Your Honeys at the USFWS Have Murdered on San Nicolas Island," and "Quislings at the Humane Society Sell Out San Nicolas's Cats to the Assassins at the Diabolical United States Fish and Wildlife Service.")

Also, as the propaganda and behavior of Animal Care and Control and other public officials in New York City have more than abundantly demonstrated, relinquishing control of managed colonies to the authorities in any shape, form, or fashion is simply a horrendous development. (See Cat Defender post of December 22, 2011 entitled "Rogue TNR Practitioner and Three Unscrupulous Veterinarians Kill at Least Sixty-Two Cats with the Complicity of the Mayor's Alliance for NYC's Animals.")

It therefore is imperative that such undertakings remain exclusively in the hands of the volunteers. Besides, the politicians are too cheap and ailurophobic to contribute so much a red cent to such efforts; au contraire, they simply want to gain control of these colonies so that they can impose their malevolent wills on both the cats and their caretakers.

Morris Was Still in Captivity Even on His Special Day in Cocoa Beach

It is important to point out at this juncture that no evidence whatsoever has come to light that would tend to indicate that Morris was in any way either neglected or abused while he lived at Purrs and Whiskers. There likewise is not any guarantee that even if had he been put up for adoption that he would have been placed with a conscientious guardian who took his care and welfare seriously.

In April of last year, Morris decided to enter the political thicket and a second Facebook page entitled "Morris 'the Glass Bank Cat' for Cocoa Beach City Commissioner" was established in order to promote his candidacy. His campaign never really got off the ground, however, and his Facebook page attracted only one-hundred-nine followers. Other than that tidbit of information gleaned from the web, almost nothing is known concerning how that he spent his years at Purrs and Whiskers.

Then on December 15th the shelter's operator, Karen Clarise Gibson, established a page on Go Fund Me entitled "Morris the Glass Bank Cat Vet Visit" which quickly raised every cent of its US$450 intended goal. As it later was revealed, Morris by then, sadly, was suffering from liver failure. That acknowledgement accordingly makes the shelter's September 20th declaration on Facebook that his death "was completely unexpected" more than a little puzzling.

Since Purrs and Whiskers has not elaborated on his condition it is impossible to know exactly what ailed his liver. Generally speaking, however, liver failure in cats can be caused by tumors, toxoplasmosis, a build up of fat, the ingestion of toxins, and the development of portosystemic shunts whereby the blood bypasses the liver and is returned to the circulatory system without first having been cleansed.

No fewer than twelve tests are currently available for diagnostic purposes and treatment can include, inter alia, detoxification, surgery, a regimen of calorically dense, high- protein food, fluids and electrolytes, plasma transfusions, antibiotics, and Vitamin K. (See Cat World, June 27, 2017, "Liver Disease in Cats -- Causes, Symptoms and Treatment.")

Needless to say, US$450 would not have covered very much of that. In fact, such a piddling sum would have barely gotten Morris inside the front door for even so much as a cursory examination by the bloodsuckers at Clearlake Animal Hospital who state emphatically on their web site that they must have all of their shekels in advance.

The funds donated by Hernandez and McGahey in all likelihood would have been sufficient for a diagnosis, detoxification (induced vomiting, enemas, stomach pumps, and activated charcoal), and an improved diet for Morris. Additional funds would have been required for, inter alia, follow-up veterinary visits and, if needed, surgical intervention.

Morris, Mona Motz, Hernandez, and Dave Netterstrom at the Ceremony

It therefore is unclear whether it was a lack of money per se, veterinary incompetence, or Purrs and Whiskers' unwillingness to have his liver condition properly attended to that ultimately led to his premature death. At the same time it is every bit as likely that his hardscrabble past simply caught up with him in the end.

Although quite a few of Alley Cat Allies' Boardwalk Cats have lived well into their twenties, most members of the species that have spent any measurable length of time on their own generally do not fare nearly as well as their domesticated cousins. (See Cat Defender posts of December 10, 2011 and August 24, 2017 entitled, respectively, "Snowball Succumbs to the Inevitable after Toughing It Out for Two Decades at Atlantic City's Dangerous Underwood Hotel" and "The Brutal Murders of a Trio of Atlantic City's Boardwalk Cats Provide an Occasion for the Local Rag and PETA to Whoop It Up and to Break Open the Champagne.")

Not only is life on the street difficult, dangerous, unhygienic, and disease-ridden, but it is strongly suspected that congenital maladies are the number one factor in the shortened life-expectancies of homeless cats. That phenomenon is even more pronounced in kittens.

That tragic pattern certainly held true in Morris' case in that he was believed to have been somewhere between one and two years of age at the time of his discovery and rescue. That in turn would have made him either four or five years old at the time of his death and although it is said that the good die young that was much too soon for any cat to exit this world.

No one has hazarded so much as a guess as to where he came from but the most likely explanation is that he, or his mother before him, was abandoned to fend for himself by either a resident of Cocoa Beach or a tourist. While it is always conceivable that he could have been driven in from the mainland with the intent of purposefully dumping him that seems considerably less probable.

Given that Manx kittens retail for between US$200 and US$400 apiece, it is strange that his previous owner would have simply dumped him as opposed to having sold him. That coupled with his fear of humans, lends a certain amount of credence to the theory that it was his mother who was abandoned and that he subsequently was born sans-abri.

As for how that he lived, Wolfe could have been feeding him. Although it is not known if he was a cat fancier, the fact that Morris' presence in the Glass Bank was not detected until shortly after his suicide may not have been a coincidence.

Morris in His So-Called Kitty Condo at the Sanctuary

No details have been divulged concerning security arrangements at the condemned building but unless Morris was carried to the upper floors by someone, he would have required not only ingress to the building via either a door or a window but, more crucially, open and unlocked doors that led to the first, second, third, and fourth floors. There simply is not any conceivable way that he could have operated the elevators even if they still had been working.

Hernandez and Motz may know the answer to that riddle but based upon the limited information available it would appear that he was brought inside by either Wolfe or someone else with keys to the facility. After Wolfe's death it is quite possible that he survived on mice, bugs, and condensation.

If doors to both the stairwell and the outside had been left open, he could have been scavenging in the street and returning to the bank to sleep. It also is conceivable that someone living nearby could have been feeding him but was unwilling to come forward and claim him once he had become famous.

"He was healthy," was about all that Hernandez was willing to disclose to WFTV concerning his condition after his rescue. "He was emotionally scared, a little shocked."

That in itself is not conclusive in that it is not known either how long it took Purrs and Whiskers to trap him or how successful that he might have been in pilfering food from their snares before he himself was caught. Nevertheless, if Hernandez is to be believed Morris was neither emaciated nor dehydrated.

That does not automatically foreclose the prospect, however, that he may have been forced in the past to have gone without both food and water for prolonged periods of time and that in turn could have irreparably damaged his liver and kidneys as well. For example, a beautiful nine-year-old Persian named Tavia from Kissimmee, one-hundred-seven kilometers due east of Cocoa Beach, was intentionally left in an empty, unheated house by her owner for more than two months back in 2010. She additionally was provided with very little to eat and drink and that ultimately led to her premature death from liver and kidney failure.

In her case, however, the steady diet to barbiturates foolishly fed to her by her guardian in order to help facilitate grooming her also could have been a contributing factor in her demise. (See Cat Defender post of December 23, 2010 entitled "Tavia's Desperate Pleas for Help Fall Upon the Deaf Ears of the Evangelical Who Abandoned Her and the Heartless Officials and Citizens of Kissimmee.")

Morris on the Grounds of the Sanctuary on July 9, 2017

The various toxins that Morris could have unwittingly ingested while on his own is almost infinite. Even the ingestion of lilies and other harmful plants and shrubs can kill a cat but Purrs and Whiskers likely had the bon sens to have removed them from the grounds of its outdoor enclosure. (See Cat Defender post of April 11, 2016 entitled "Mr. Mistoffelees Will Be Forever Four Months Old Because He Accidentally Brushed Up Against a Bouquet of Lilies and Then Unwittingly Attempted to Lick the Pollen Off of His Fur.")

The condition of his fur, nails,and feet would have provided additional clues as to how that he had been living. So, too, would have the presence of parasites in his fur and their toxins in his blood.

The three and one-third years that he was able to eke out of life after his rescue were terribly fleeting but they were far preferable to the fate that awaited him if he had remained inside the condemned building. (See Cat Defender posts of March 31, 2006 and June 10, 2005 entitled, respectively, "The Idaho Humane Society Lends Its Support to the Demolition of a Derelict Seed Store That Claims the Lives of Dozens of Cats" and "The War on Terrorism Costs Cats Their Home -- and Maybe Their Lives Also.")

It was a good thing that Hernandez had his eyes in the clouds as opposed to using them in order to pan the pavement for pennies on that fateful day back in April of 2014 because otherwise it is highly unlikely that Morris ever would have made it out of the bank alive. If that had not been the case the world never would have known that he ever existed.

In that respect, his deliverance bears a striking resemblance to that of a brown and black tom with yellow eyes named Mario from Lac-Mégantic, two-hundred-fifty-four kilometers east of Montréal in Eastern Townships, Province Québec, who was forced to spend seventy-nine days all alone and without food and water in a deserted building after an American-owned oil train carrying Bakken crude exploded. His salvation finally came on September 21, 2013 when Mario Vachon, who was conducting a survey of deserted buildings in a sealed-off section of town, accidentally spotted, not him, but rather his silhouette in a window.

That was enough, however, in that he promptly notified Françoise Belle-Isle of Fourrière municipale de Lac-Mégantic who was able to successfully trap and remove Mario the very next day. (See Cat Defender posts of March 31, 2014 and January 11, 2016 entitled, respectively, "Mario Is Brought Back from Death's Door When His Silhouette Is Accidentally Spotted in a Window of Fire-Ravaged Lac-Mégantic" and "Mario, Who Survived an Oil Train Explosion and Subsequently Was Forced to Go Without Food and Water for an Astonishing Seventy-Nine Days, Was the Most Compelling Feline Personality of 2013.")

Long- Suffering Morris Is Gone Forever

Looking back over the course of Morris' brief and troubled life there is not any way of getting around the conclusion that his lot from start to finish was one of abandonment, neglect, deprivation, and incarceration that ended in sickness and an early grave. Moreover, there are not any true heroes in this story.

Although Hernandez is to be commended for mounting and financing the rescue that saved Morris, he contributed absolutely nothing toward ensuring that he was placed in a proper home and received the top-notch veterinary care that he so urgently needed and richly deserved. The same charges are even more applicable in the case of Purrs and Whiskers.

Netterstrom, the capitalist media, and the citizens of Cocoa Beach likewise patted themselves on the back for rescuing Morris, took their bows, and then got on with their lives. On the whole, it is difficult to escape the feeling that the entire "Save Morris" effort was little more than a cheap publicity stunt staged by one and all involved to make themselves look good in the public's eye but with precious little regard for either Morris' well-being or desires. He most assuredly deserved far better treatment than he received!

What the feline protection movement so desperately needs are individuals and organizations that are sincere and put the needs and desires of cats first. Believe it or not, that is an entirely different enterprise than public grandstanding, running off at the mouth, buffoonery and, above all, sucking up to the elites.

In death Morris thus has joined Mayor Stubbs and King Loui I in what that can only be labeled as a summer of sorrow. (See Cat Defender posts of August 4, 2017 and September 15, 2017 entitled, respectively, "Mayor Stubbs, 1997-2017: A Melancholic Remembrance, an Appreciation, and a Tearful au Revoir" and "King Loui I's Days of Roaming the Perilous Streets of Aachen Come to a Sad End Shortly after He Is Diagnosed with Inoperable Throat Cancer.")

It would be comforting to believe that a far better winter awaits but that would be a pipe dream. With cats, neither the dying nor the killing ever abate for very long.

Finally, the Glass Bank disappeared from Cocoa Beach's skyline on Groundhog Day of 2015 and now Morris has joined it in that eternal pit of nothingness. All that remain are the memories, photographs, and a passel of regrets and what-might-have-beens.

Photos: Facebook (Morris up-close, in a window at the Glass Bank, Save Morris banner, Morris, Motz, Hernandez, and Netterstrom at ceremony, Morris in a cage and on the grounds of the sanctuary, and the final goodbye) and Florida Today (Hernandez, Morris in a cage immediately after his capture, and Morris in a cage at the ceremony).

Forest Was Stranded Forty-Five Feet Above Ground

"You know what they say: that nobody's ever seen a cat skeleton in a tree."
-- Firefighter Chris Snedaker

Forest was in dire straits. The handsome white tom of undetermined age had been chased, most likely by a dog, forty-five feet up a dead cherry tree.

Given that he had been marooned there for somewhere between one and two weeks without either food or water his strength sans doute was rapidly ebbing and he surely would not have been able to have held on for much longer. By that time it is even doubtful that he still possessed the physical reserves that he would have required in order to have inched his way back down the tree even if he had had the savior-faire to have negotiated such a delicate maneuver.

As if all of that were not daunting enough, a thunderstorm was fast approaching. Luckily for him, his desperate plight belatedly came to the attention of an unidentified Good Samaritan of North Beaver Township, seventy-nine kilometers northwest of Pittsburgh and thirty-nine kilometers southeast of Youngstown, on March 30th who either walked or drove to the North Beaver Township Volunteer Fire Department at 969 Mount Jackson Road in neighboring New Castle in order to procure assistance for him.

Assistant Fire Chief Chris Snedaker and Lieutenant Tyler Claypool then immediately drove almost two kilometers to Reed Road alongside Hickory Creek where they propped a twenty-five-foot ladder against the tree and from there attempted to coax Forest into a plastic milk crate that they were dangling in front of him on a pike pole. He was too frightened to have availed himself of their entreaties, however, and they soon were forced to abandon the rescue effort due to circumstances beyond their control.

"We tried to get him down," Snedaker later told the New Castle News on April 8th. (See "Cat Saved by Firefighters in Need of Home.")"There was a lot of lightning by that time. We had to give up."

Normally, that would have been the end of the matter and Forest's fate would have been left to the gods to decide. Claypool is one firefighter who takes his responsibilities seriously, however, and he returned to the tree once the storm had passed. Mercifully, Forest somehow had managed to survive all the wind, rain, thunder, and lightning without being either electrocuted or hurled to his death below and as a consequence he was still precariously clinging to that dead tree limb.

Far from spending the interlude at the fire station playing cards and schmoozing with the other volunteers, Claypool had been busily improvising another rescue plan. This time around he accordingly brought with him a golf ball that he had drilled a small hole through the center and it was through that aperture he painstakingly threaded fishing tackle. He next threw the line over a branch near Forest.

He then attached a milk crate to the line and hoisted it up the tree to Forest. Apparently having had more than enough of both nasty thunderstorms and going without food and water, he willingly jumped into the crate without having to be coaxed and promptly was lowered to terra firma.

Morris with Tyler Claypool while Chris Snedaker Holds a Milk Crate

Other than being hungry, thirsty, and soaked to the bone, Forest came away from his long and trying ordeal in, apparently, excellent shape. Claypool soon remedied his latter condition by dropping him off at the fire station so that he could dry out while he continued on to a nearby Walmart in order to purchase some food, treats, litter, and other feline accessories for him.

"I thought it (firemen rescuing cats from trees) was a myth, but I guess it happens," Snedaker later opined to the New Castle News.

The reason that he would think such a thing is that fire departments all across the United States almost universally refuse to rescue cats that have become stranded in trees, on electrical lines, and at other high elevations. For example on February 9, 2007, firemen in the Louisville suburb of New Albany, Indiana, categorically refused to save a cat named Stinky that had been trapped on a roof for three days.

That in turn necessitated the intervention of concerned citizens Christopher and David Drake who,à la Claypool, threaded a rope through a section of PVC pipe and used that in order to safely bring down Stinky. (See Cat Defender post of February 20, 2007 entitled "A Stray Cat Ignominiously Named Stinky Is Rescued from a Rooftop by Good Samaritans After the Fire Department Refuses to Help.")

The same deplorable situation prevailed at the public library in Augusta, Georgia, on February 28, 2008 when a gray and white cat became stuck up a tree. The local fire department at first demurred by claiming that it was scared to death of cats and even when it finally did show up it brought along with it a ladder that was way too short in order to do the job.

A pair of employees from the library finally brought down the cat by shaking it from its perch into an awaiting bedsheet. (See WJBF-TV of Augusta, February 28, 2008, "Cat Stuck in a Tree -- Call the Fire Department!")

As Susan Manor in Asbury Park, New Jersey, a kitten became stranded up a tree on March 5, 2008 and, once again, the local fire department refused to lift so much as a lousy finger in order to save it. That in turn necessitated the  timely intervention of the Department of Public Works. ( See the Asbury Park Press, March 8, 2008, "Public Works Department to the Rescue for Stuck Kitten.")

Later on February 11, 2009, a nameless brown cat was found dumped on a six-story concrete pillar of the East Freeway in Houston but the local fire department refused to intervene. Luckily for it, the SPCA came to its rescue but even it did not show up until a day later. (See Cat Defender post of February 21, 2009 entitled "Daring Rescue in the Sky Spares the Life of a Cat Dumped on an Overpass in Houston.")

Danny  Leboff Hands over Roscoe to a Forever Grateful Sandy Valenti

Not contented with displaying his abysmal ignorance of the number of cats that are chased up trees every day by vicious dogs, Snedaker had at least one more bit of sottise left in his arsenal of mindless blatherings and he wasted no time in putting it to good use. "You know what they say: that nobody's ever seen a cat skeleton in a tree," he sneered to the New Castle News.

First of all, in that he harbors such an abhorrent attitude in his bosom it is somewhat surprising that he even attempted to save Forest's life in the first place. Secondly, the obvious reason that there are not any feline skeletons in trees is that stranded cats either plunge to their deaths, are preyed upon by opportunistic and bloodthirsty birds, or succumb to electrocution.

For example on January 22, 2008, a cat that had been trapped atop a telephone pole for four days in Stevinson, California, succumbed to hypothermia and plunged to its death on the ground. The Merced County Fire Department had refused to intervene by ludicrously claiming that it did not even own so much as either a ladder or a cherry picker. (See The Modesto Bee, January 24, 2008, "Really Tough Getting Help for Cat Stuck Up Pole.")

Furthermore, it is not merely the lives of cats that firefighters are endangering when they adamantly refuse to do their duty but those of humans as well. For instance on February 27, 2008, twenty-seven-year-old Scott Buehler of Orange, California, plunged forty feet to his death while attempting to save the life of a cat that had been stranded for two days up a fifty-foot Cypress.

In the immediate aftermath of this totally preventable tragedy, Captain Ian McDonald of the Orange Fire Department was spouting the same self-serving nonsense as Snedaker. "When cats get hungry, they typically come back down," he gassed to The Orange County Register of Anaheim on February 28, 2008. (See "Man Who Died Trying to Help Cat Was Experienced Climber.")"Also, laddering a tree has a level of risk involved. Knowing that the cat will come down, we don't take unnecessary risks."

That is pure baloney in that not only are all cats different but circumstances vary tremendously as well. Accordingly, neither McDonald nor any other fireman can conceivably know beforehand if a cat is going to be able to get safely down from a height.

What he, Snedaker, and others are really saying is that the lives of cats are of such little consequence that they are  unworthy of being saved. Moreover, it is pure balderdash for any of them to claim that rescuing a cat from a tree is more dangerous than either entering burning buildings or dealing with gas and other types of explosions.

The Americans' callousness and intransigence on this issue stand in stark contrast to the compassion and willingness to be of assistance of their English counterparts who never have been known to refuse to come to the assistance of a cat stranded in either a tree or at some other location high above ground. (See Cat Defender post of March 20, 2008 entitled "Bone-Lazy, Mendacious Firefighters Are Costing the Lives of Both Cats and Humans by Refusing to Do Their Duty.")

Where Are You Now, Forest?

The track record of American firefighters when it comes to cats is not all bad in that many of them routinely risk their lives by reentering burning buildings in order to bring them out alive. For instance on September 9, 2008, Al Machado of New Bedford, Massachusetts, not only pulled to safety a three-year-old Angora named Kiki but gave her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as well. (See Cat Defender post of September 29, 2008 entitled "Kiki Is Healthy Again but in Legal Limbo as Her Rescuer, Firefighter Al Macado, Basks in the Glory of His Heroics.")

Plus, numerous fire departments recently have purchased pet oxygen masks and that development already has saved the lives of innumerable cats.Their surprising willingness to come to the aid of feline fire victims makes their intransigence in regard to those that become stranded in trees all the more difficult to justify.

Firefighters also go out of their way in order to save the lives of cats that have been cruelly abandoned by their owners during wildfires. For example, Ralph Rhodes of Eugene, Oregon, not only saved the life of a cat named Monty Burns that he found in Middletown, California, but he also transported him to the Wasson Memorial Veterinary Clinic in Lakeport for emergency treatment. (See Cat Defender post of October 14, 2015 entitled "Because a Compassionate Firefighter from Oregon Chose to Care When His California Guardians Could Not Be Bothered with Doing So, Monty Burns Is Able to Escape the Valley Fire with His Life.")

Shortly before that on May 10, 2015, firefighter Danny Leboff of Oceanside, a hamlet within the town of Hempstead on Long Island and located forty-eight kilometers east of Manhattan, climbed down into a ten-foot-deep dry well in order to save the life of Sandy D. Valenti's cat, Roscoe. He had missing for two weeks and is presumed to have spent that entire period trapped in the well.

Rather than turning a cold shoulder to cats in distress, Fire Chief John Madden takes considerable pride in saving them. "It feels good when you bring them back to their owners," he declared to the New York Post on May 11, 2015. (See "Firefighters Save Cat from Well.")

Despite the stellar work of Claypool and others, it is precisely the reprehensible attitude that they have against rescuing cats stranded in trees and on power lines that is the number one black mark against American firefighters. Unless they can somehow be prevailed upon to amend their thinking on this issue, tree surgeons, utility companies, and selfless acts on the part of private citizens are destined to remain as the only viable alternatives that owners and those who care about cats have when it comes to rescuing them.

As for Forest, it is a mystery as to what has become of him. Claypool and his fellow firefighters told the New Castle News that they would like to keep him but were unable to do so because not only is the fire station located on a busy highway but it is frequently rented out for community events. As a consequence, they claimed to be in the process of searching for a new home for him.

Earlier on April 3rd, the firefighters posted a similar notice on the station's Facebook page but, inexplicably, there have not been any subsequent references to him on it or in the press. If Forest were still alive, well, and residing in a new home, it stands to reason that they would want the world to share in that good news.

Almost anything is possible with cats but the firemen's reticence regarding Forest is, at the very least, a disturbing and ominous development. Otherwise, this story would have had an unqualified happy ending.

Photos: Facebook (Forest up a tree and by himself), Mary Grzebieniak of the New Castle News (Forest with Claypool and Snedaker), and Bill Bennett of the New York Post (Leboff handing over Roscoe to Valenti).

Pilot Lost His Whiskers in the Wildfire

"He's not ready to give up so neither am I. I will do what I can to help him."
-- Jennifer Leigh Thompson

The odds against a cat being reunited with his family after a ten-year separation must be at least a million to one. For one to have survived being severely burned in a deadly wildfire surely must be equally daunting.

As incredible as it may sound, a long-suffering and determined thirteen-year-old brown tom named Pilot from Santa Rosa has succeeded in pulling off both of those utterly amazing feats. Since he, regrettably, does not speak any language that humans are capable of comprehending, the best that can be done is to take the elliptical accounts and recollections of those who have known him, conduct an analysis of the circumstances, and then to sprinkle in liberal amounts of both logic and supposition in order to piece together the tapestry of his incredible story of survival and triumph over simply outrageous misfortune.

Like so many cats, Pilot was abandoned as a kitten. He most likely was either dumped at a shelter by his utterly worthless owner or arrested by Animal Control officers and then subsequently incarcerated.

In 2004, he got a tremendous break when he was adopted, presumably from a shelter, by Jennifer Leigh Thompson. Over the course of the following three years he, from all accounts, enjoyed a happy and contented life with her, her husband, and children.

"He was an indoor-outdoor cat that always came home every evening like clockwork," she wrote November 2nd on Go Fund Me. (See "Help with Pilot's Veterinary Care.")"He is a very special cat who loved my kids, loved to play in water, and followed us around like a dog."

One day in 2007, however, he failed to come home. "We were devastated," Thompson continued. "His disappearance was extremely traumatizing to us."

The loss of him was made all the more puzzling given that he not only was wearing a collar with a tag but microchipped as well. "We checked the shelters for months with no success," she informed The Sacramento Bee on November 3rd. (See "Cat Missing for Ten Years Survives Wine Country Fires -- and Will Be Reunited with His Family.")

Although it has not been disclosed what other efforts she undertook in order to locate Pilot, shelters were, quite obviously, the wrong places for her to have been looking for him. Also since she was then working in the veterinary field, touching bases with local practitioners would have been the second most logical place for her to have looked but that, too, would have been another cul-de-sac.

Since only shelters and veterinary offices possess the scanners that are required in order to decipher them, microchips are totally worthless unless lost cats are, one way or another, brought into one of those facilities. Almost as disturbing, it is far from clear if veterinarians and shelters are under any legal obligation to notify former owners whenever their long-lost cats turn up at their surgeries and houses of detention.

The Staff at PetCare Worked Hard to Save Pilot's Life

If not, the decision of whether or not to return such cats to their rightful owners is left to the sole discretion of their current guardians. For instance, Michael King voluntarily returned four-year-old Tabor to her owner, Ronald A. Buss of Portland, after an implanted microchip was found by staffers at Helena Veterinary Service. (See Cat Defender post of July 5, 2013 entitled "Tabor's Long and Winding Road Leads Her Back Home but Leaves Her with a Broken Heart.")

It was an entirely different story with an unidentified woman who somehow came into custody of Dan Bouchery's tuxedo Cookie in that she had to be pressured by the gendarmes into returning him after a veterinarian in Normandie, thanks to an implanted microchip, had definitely established who was his lawful owner. (See the Nice Matin, December 12, 2014, "Un chat disparu à Grasse, parcourt un millier kilomètre pour retrouver sa maîtresse en Normandie" and Cat Defender post of October 20, 2017 entitled "Beautiful and Noble Hamish McHamish Who Suffered Through Fourteen Years of Abject Neglect and Naked Exploitation Is Remembered as Cat of the Year for 2014.")

The most logical explanation in Pilot's case is that he was stolen by an individual who afterwards kept him confined indoors; otherwise, he surely would have returned home. That individual likewise was astute enough to have removed and gotten rid of his collar and tag.

Stealing a cat is not only a simply task to pull off but it constitutes an almost perfect crime. In England, for example, cat stealing has reached epidemic levels. (See the Burton Mail, September 5, 2017, "Swadlincote Vet Makes Plea to Cat Owners as Number of Thefts Continues (sic) to Soar.")

Furthermore, in those extremely rare cases when owners actually find out what has become of their cats it often is way too late for them not only to reclaim them but to even save their lives. (See Cat Defender post of February 8, 2017 entitled "The Long and Hopelessly Frustrating Search for the Kidnapped Mr. Cheeky Ends Tragically Underneath the Wheels of a Hit-and-Run Motorist.")

The only other explanation that readily comes to mind is that Pilot voluntarily left home due to a conflict with another cat or a dog. That is an expedient that some cats have been known to adopt, especially if they have been subjected to repeated bullying. Only Thompson knows if that were indeed the case but she has not publicly speculated one way or the other on what caused him to leave home.

Meanwhile at the Thompson household, new cats and dogs came and went and she and her family soon forgot all about Pilot. In 2007, they pulled up stakes and relocated to Longmont, fifty-three kilometers north of Denver, where she settled into the avocation as a pet sitter and dog walker.

A decade later and halfway across the country, the infamous Tubbs Fire broke out in Sonoma and surrounding counties in early October and in its wake it burned more than thirty-six-thousand acres of land, killed twenty-two individuals, and destroyed more than five-thousand buildings. In Santa Rosa alone, the fire inflicted an estimated US$1.2 billion in damage and that included the burning down of more than twenty-eight-hundred buildings. All totaled, a full five per cent of the city's housing stock went up in smoke.

Hundreds, if not indeed thousands, of cats were cruelly left behind to fend for themselves as their morally reprehensible owners hightailed it out of town in order to save their own miserable hides. (See The Press and Democrat of Santa Rosa, November 7, 2017, "Amid Sonoma County Wildfires, One Group Uses Social Media to Reunite Pets and Their Families.")

On All Hallows Eve, a miracle almost too incredible to believe occurred when an unidentified Good Samaritan came upon a famished and dehydrated cat that was stumbling along on four badly burned paws. His whiskers were gone and his ears had been burned to a crisp.

Although the poor cat looked to be more dead than alive, this truly wonderful and compassionate individual did not hesitate to transport him to the PetCare Veterinary Hospital at 2425 Mendocino Avenue where the staff consented to attempt to save his life. Press reports have not specified if the surgery voluntarily chose that course of action or if the Good Samaritan was required to pay up front for the cat's emergency care.

Pilot Was Put in an Elizabethan Collar

Be that as it may, the cat's paws were burned to the bone and that necessitated that the veterinarians had to sedate him in order to clean, medicate, and bandage them. Antibiotics, analgesics, an Elizabethan collar and, in all likelihood, intravenous fluids were administered to him.

While they were at it, they routinely scanned him for an implanted microchip and that is how that they belatedly learned that he at one time had been owned by Thompson. Inexcusably, she had not paid the administrator of the chip's database to maintain her current contract information on file and that in turn necessitated that the staff at Petcare had to track her down by telephone.

Some veterinarians and shelters are unwilling to go that extra mile for lost cats but those who do so are richly rewarded for their due diligence, especially if they should happen to be partial to unraveling incredible cat survival stories. (See Cat Defender posts of March 31, 2010 and August 26, 2015 entitled, respectively, "A Winnipeg Family Is Astounded by Tiger Lily's Miraculous Return after Having Been Believed Dead for Fourteen Years" and "A Myriad of Cruel and Unforgivable Abandonments, a Chinese Puzzle, and Finally the Handing Down and Carrying Out of a Death Sentence Spell the End for Long-Suffering and Peripatetic Tigger.")

To say that the telephone call that Thompson received from PetCare came as shock would be a gross understatement. "I never in a million years imagined that we'd ever see him again," she swore to The Mercury News of San Jose on November 3rd. (See "Cat Missing Ten Years Is Found Burned but Alive in Wine Country Fires.")"It's amazing he survived all of that."

In particular, it is estimated that Pilot had been hobbling along on his own for at least two weeks after the fire. Not only was he in excruciating pain but he had almost nothing to either eat or drink during that period. Nevertheless, he was able to somehow and some way persevere for just long enough until the Good Samaritan entered and saved his life.

After Thompson had gotten over the initial shock that Pilot was indeed still alive, she was confronted with a litany of sobering and daunting dilemmas. Most importantly of all, did she want him back?

Secondly, how badly did she want him back? Specifically, was she willing to invest the enormous amounts of money, time, and care that were going to be required in order to make him well again?

Finally, even if she were willing to do all of that, how on earth was she going to be able to pull it off? After all, veterinary care is outrageously expensive and Longmont is twelve-hundred-thirty-eight kilometers east of Santa Rosa.

As far as it is known, Thompson never hesitated and instead listened only to the calling of her heart. "He's not ready to give up so neither am I. I will do what I can to help him," she promised November 2nd on Go Fund Me. "He's in really good spirits and gets excited and wants to be petted and loved the moment someone opens his cage door at the veterinary hospital."

In furtherance of that noble objective, she established the Go Fund Me page referred to supra which as of November 19th had raised US$4,288 from one-hundred-twenty-seven donors. That is a good start but it is hardly going to even begin to cover the cost of Pilot's long, tedious, and difficult recuperation.

Pilot and His Heavily Bandaged Paws at the Home of Thompson's Sister

For instance, he is going to require daily visits to a veterinarian for at least two months. During such visits he is going to have to be sedated so that his bandages can be changed and his paws medicated. No figures have been floated, but each of those visits is surely going to cost Thompson hundreds of dollars.

"It's been very difficult not being able to see him right away but the staff at PetCare has been amazing with keeping me updated and sending me photos," she informed The Sacramento Bee on November 3rd. "I can't wait to see him. I'm excited and my kids are excited!"

While she was finalizing plans to wing it to Santa Rosa so as to collect Pilot she received some encouraging news that made the agony of waiting a little bit easier to bear. "Pilot is really doing well!" she exclaimed November 4th on Go Fund Me. "He's getting transitioned onto oral medication now (from, presumably, being fed intravenously) which is a very positive thing. And he's gaining weight!"

The long awaited and much anticipated reunion with her long-lost cat finally came about on the evening of November 8th and nobody either inside or outside of Hollywood could have scripted the dénouement any better. "He was asleep when I walked into the hospital ward at PetCare and immediately raised his head and turned around when he heard my voice," Thompson disclosed November 9th on Go Fund Me. "I am overjoyed and the tears were flowing! I have no doubt that he remembers me."

Not a great deal is known about the recall capabilities of cats. They do, however, most definitely remember familiar smells and voices.

On the other hand, their personalities and behavioral characteristics seldom change over time regardless of how much adversity should befall them. Consequently, just because a long-lost cat still behaves as before does not necessarily prove that it still recognizes its former owner.

A day earlier Pilot had undergone surgery in order to have an unspecified number of his claws removed because they were said to have been interfering with the healing of his paws. Nevertheless, he was still well enough to have spent the following night with Thompson at her sister's house.

"Pilot slept in my bed with me last night. I finally felt some peace with this sweet boy next to me," she continued November 9th on Go Fund Me. "He is still such a snuggle bug. Ten years have not changed a thing."

The same thing could be said about Pilot's interim guardian, but doing so would not cast that individual in a positive light. First of all, it is difficult to comprehend how that anyone could be so callous as to run out on a cat that either he or she had sheltered and fed for, presumably, a decade.

Secondly, that individual did not even have enough concern to come forward and attempt to reclaim him even after his story and photograph had been splashed all over both mainstream and social media. Of course, it is remotely possible that the individual in question perished in the inferno but even that would not excuse family members from coming forward and doing the right thing.

Pilot Is Joyfully Reunited with Jennifer Leigh Thompson

Since it has not been disclosed either where Pilot was found or where Thompson previously resided in Santa Rosa, it is difficult to draw any conclusions. Nevertheless, it is entirely possible that it was precisely one of her neighbors who had stolen him and that he consequently had been living for the past decade only a few doors down the street from her old abode.

If the assumption that Pilot was stolen is correct, it is highly unlikely that his interim guardian ever will attempt to reclaim him. That would appear au premier coup d'oeil  to foreclose the possibility that Thompson and her family will be forced to go through a grueling and heart-wrenching custody battle.

Pilot flew home to Longmont with Thompson sometime last week. Although their itinerary has not been publicly divulged, their trip most likely originated with an automobile ride to the Charles M. Schulz Sonoma County Airport, eleven kilometers northwest of Santa Rosa. From there, they took an approximately one-hour flight to San Francisco.

Following a ninety-minute layover they then took a two and one-half-hour flight to Denver. Upon arrival, they were forced into taking another trip by car to Longmont.

Even under normal circumstances such a journey would have been quite an ordeal but having a sick cat along must have made for quite a trying experience for Thompson. They did luck out on the last leg of their journey in that the plane was not crowded.

In fact, they had an entire row of seats to themselves and the stewardess graciously consented to allow Pilot to occupy one of the empty seats alongside Thompson as opposed to flying on the floor. She thus was able to communicate with him and to monitor his condition en route. Given that he must be sedated on a daily basis in order to have his bandages changed, hopefully he was able to have made the trip without having any additional potentially harmful narcotics pumped into his system.

As far as it is known, they did not have to contend with any soaks or other miscreants during their trip. Overall, he "traveled pretty well for the most part," Thompson wrote November 16th on Go Fund Me.

Once they finally arrived home, Pilot was reunited with Thompson's now eighteen-year-old daughter who had loved him so much that she had experienced nightmares when he disappeared all those years ago. Not surprisingly, their meeting proved to be every bit as emotional as had been Thompson's with him a few days earlier.

"She came in the room and he started chirping away (he has this little chirp that he does) when he saw her and she started talking," Thompson disclosed on Go Fund Me. "It was pretty amazing. They've been hanging out now as much as possible."

Pilot's amazing odyssey that has taken him from being missing and presumed dead all the way back to the present and the world of the living also has made it possible for the fissures in the heart of Thompson's daughter to finally heal. "This is what means the most to me. Our cat is here," Thompson continued on Go Fund Me. "He is healing. We are doing whatever we can to help him heal. And he and my daughter are happy."

Pilot with Thompson's Admiring Eighteen-Year-Old Daughter

Should he somehow be able to make it through the dark days and weeks that lie ahead, Pilot might even discover that he likes Longmont a good deal more than he did Santa Rosa. To its credit, the town does boast such outstanding citizens as the now retired Mike McCarthy of Golden Van Lines who not only tracked down the owners of a lost four-year-old, longhaired cat named Neo in October of 2006 but also put him on a plane back to his home in Crowley. (See Cat Defender post of November 6, 2006 entitled "Trapped in a Moving Van for Five Days, Texas Cat Named Neo Is Finally Freed in Colorado.")

Now that he has left Santa Rosa, Pilot's continued care has been handed off to James K. Skelly of the Foxtail Pines Veterinary Hospital in Erie, seventeen kilometers south of Longmont. While there is not any reason to question his competency, he nonetheless is a graduate of PennVet in Philadelphia and his father even worked at the surgery.

The problem with PennVet and by extension its parent, the University of Pennsylvania, is that the both of them are staffed almost exclusively with bloodsucking capitalists who do not possess so much as a scintilla of respect for the sanctity of animal life. For example around Christmastime in 2013, staffers at the Matthew J. Ryan Veterinary Hospital steadfastly refused to treat a cat that accidentally had swallowed a piece of ribbon because its owner was unable to come up with the thousands of dollars that they had demanded in advance.

They instead elected to kill it on the spot. That was in spite of the fact that the University of Pennsylvania boasts an endowment in the billions.

Furthermore, the practitioners at Ryan experiment on and torture to death countless cats, dogs, and other small animals each year during the course of their utterly worthless experiments. The same sort of atrocities are carried out at PennVet's satellite campus, the New Bolton Center in Kennett Square, where its veterinarians line their pockets by pimping and whoring for meat, egg, and milk producers, the horse racing industry, and other serial abusers and killers of large animals.

Not surprisingly, the animal research laboratories on both campuses also do not even comply with the minimalist standards of animal care as mandated by the already as weak-as-water Animal Welfare Act of 1966. (See Cat Defender post of March 19, 2014 entitled "Cheap and Greedy Moral Degenerates at PennVet Extend Their Warmest Christmas Greetings to an Impecunious, but Preeminently Treatable, Cat Via a Jab of Sodium Pentobarbital.")

It accordingly would be extremely unwise for Thompson to count on Skelly to either extend her any credit or to give her any discounts. Much more to the point, anyone even remotely affiliated with either PennVet or the University of Pennsylvania should be avoided like the plague, let alone subsidized in the commission of their wholesale crimes against cats and other animals.

Looking ahead, the burns to Pilot's paws and ears should heal in time although he may require skin grafts in order to complete those processes. The real menace to his health are the drugs that he is being given in order to sedate him and that is a major problem considering his advanced years. In particular, sedatives can cause renal and hepatic failure as well as Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy (HCM), the latter of which does not always show up on blood tests.

Some people claim to have had a measure of success using such natural sedatives as Feliway® and Rescue Remedy® but it is doubtful that either of them would be potent enough in Pilot's case. At the very least, only the tiniest doses of tranquilizers should be used, his heart rate continuously monitored, and oxygen provided if needed whenever his bandages are changed.

Pilot Asleep at Home but He Has a Long Road to Recovery Ahead of Him

It might even be possible to combine smaller doses with some sort of physical restraints. After all, a screaming, scratching, and biting cat is far preferable to a dead one.

It thus would appear that the best that can be hoped for is that his paws will soon heal to the point that his bandages can be changed less frequently. Until that day arrives, Skelly and Thompson are going to be walking a tightrope, hoping against hope that his paws heal before the tranquilizers kill him.

The roll call of honor in making Pilot's deliverance a reality includes first and foremost the Good Samaritan who, true to the fraternity, has refused both all acknowledgement and thanks. The dedicated staffers at PetCare likewise are to be commended for their steadfastness and veterinary skill.

Last but certainly not least, it is the lovers of the species who have so generously opened up both their hearts and wallets that are making Pilot's recovery a reality. "I want to say thank you to every single person who has donated to us," Thompson wrote November 4th on Go Fund Me. "My family is beyond grateful and I am truly humbled by the outpouring of love and generosity."

They certainly have their share of detractors, but there are not any people quite like cat lovers. "When a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade, without further introduction," Mark Twain once observed and the outpouring of support that Pilot has received proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that many individuals still feel that same way today.

The final chapter is yet to be written, but to have lived an altogether different existence for a decade, to have survived the Tubbs Fire, and now to have been reunited with Thompson and her family is quite an accomplishment for any cat. Without the implanted microchip, however, PetCare would not have treated him unless someone else had agreed to pick up his veterinary tab, Thompson and her family would have remained forever in the dark as to what had become of him, and his incredible story of courage and survival never would have come to light.

Although microchips are totally worthless when it comes to protecting cats from humans and animals that are intent upon doing them harm, they nonetheless, like DNA analysis, are rewriting history. It therefore is precisely because they have so revolutionized the almost hopeless task of finding long-lost cats that aggrieved owners never should give up hope. As Pilot and thousands of other cats already have proven, many cats that have been presumed long dead have instead gone on to live other, often lengthy, lives.

For Thompson, being reunited with Pilot has been somewhat bittersweet. "Although I am sad we lost so much time with him," she lamented November 16th on Go Fund Me. "I am grateful for the time we have left. We will cherish every single moment."

Thanksgiving, which is only a few days away, is bound to be not only special but totally unforgettable this year at the Thompson house in Longmont and with that in mind it is appropriate to express two wishes. The first of which is that for Pilot to have a speedy and successful recovery that is followed by many more happy and joyous years.

Secondly given that mulligans usually are only doled out on the golf course, it can only be hoped that Thompson and her family fully appreciate what a tremendous gift that they have been given and that they will endeavor to make good on their pledges to Pilot by loving, cherishing, and honoring him for every minute of every day that he has left upon this earth. Carpe diem!

Photos: PetCare (Pilot with singed whiskers, the vets, and in an Elizabethan collar) and Go Fund Me (Pilot's bandaged paws, with Thompson, with her daughter, and asleep at home).

Runa

"Wir denken alle immer an Runa. Das Schlimmste ist die Realisation, was passiert ist."
-- Jordana Rebmann

Runa was a beautiful, three-year-old, gray-colored Norwegian Forest Cat with a sprinkling of British Shorthair blood mixed in who liked to stay out nights roaming the streets of Oberrohrdorf, thirty kilometers northwest of Zurich in the canton on Aargau. What she did on those occasions is not known but since she, presumably, had been spayed, she most likely was either seeking the companionship of her fellow felines, raiding garbage cans or, perhaps, hunting mice.

As far as it is known, she previously had not encountered any difficulties but her good luck not only ran out once and for all time but in harrowing and chilling fashion during the early morning hours of Friday, November 17th when she was abducted and brutally murdered by an assailant who remains at large to this very day. Press reports have not specified how that she was killed, but it would appear that she was bludgeoned to death. She may even have been tortured over an extended period of time.

How all of that came about is likewise unknown. For instance, she could have been surprised by her assailant and clubbed over the head or, more likely, she was trapped and then killed. It is even possible that she could have been lured inside her killer's house by either an offer of food or because she already was acquainted with him.

If that had constituted the sum total of all that had occurred on that horrible November morning that would have been bad enough in its own right but that was hardly the case. Once her assailant had either snuffed out her life or, more likely, rendered her unconscious, he proceeded to chop off her head.

He, and this most assuredly was the act of a man, then afterwards transported her, most likely in either a cardboard box, plastic bag, or a sack, to the residence of fifty-nine-year-old Jordana Rebmann at Buacherstraße 6 where he hurriedly dumped both head and torso at the side of her house. His initial intention apparently had been to deposit the end product of his devilry on her doorstep but he was thwarted in that design when his presence was detected.

"Der Täter wurde vom Licht überrascht," Rebmann later theorized to Blick of Zurich on November 20th. (See "Angst vor dem Katzen-Köpfer.")"Genau dort erfasste ihn der Bewegungsmelder."

In order to have known that, Rebmann, her husband Jörg, and their two children most likely were already awake and preparing for work and school. Also, since the Rebmanns have not reported having heard either a slamming door or an engine starting up, that is a pretty good indication that the culprit was on foot.

It has not been explained why that the family failed to investigate what had activated their motion detectors. Perhaps they simply hoped that either whoever or whatever was on their front lawn would simply go away without attempting to break into their dwelling.

Regardless of either the exact sequence of events or the time of day, it was Jörg who made the gruesome discovery when he, apparently sometime later, ventured out of doors. Kneeling down in order to examine Runa's remains, he quickly discovered that her body not only was still warm but oozing blood as well and that can only mean that she had been killed fairly recently, perhaps within as short a time span as an hour or two.

It is painful to even contemplate the alternating states of shock, disbelief, horror, heartbreak, and fear that competed for dominance in Frau Rebmann's tortured soul once she had learned of what had been done to her beloved Runa. "Wir denken alle immer an Runa," she told the Aargauer Zeiting on November 20th. (See "Geköpfte Katze: 'Der Täter muss zurückgekommen sein'.")"Das Schlimmste ist die Realisation, was passiert ist."

In killing Runa, the culprit also took away whatever sense of security that Rebmann previously had enjoyed while living in her one-family house in a quiet neighborhood that is only a Katzensprung (about three-hundred-fifty meters) removed from the Gemeindehaus at Ringstraße 2. "Hier ist vorher noch nie etwas Schlimmes passiert. Kein Einbruch, kein Brand, kein Mord," she testified to Blick."Und jetzt das. "Warum nur?"

Jordana Rebmann at the Spot Where Runa's Corpse Was Deposited

She accordingly was unwilling to admit that Runa's killer was one of her supposedly respectable and law-abiding neighbors. "Wir haben keine Feinde," she declared to Blick.

While that very well may have been previously true, her cat most definitely had made, for whatever reason, at least one mortal enemy in the neighborhood and that animus now extends to Rebmann and her family. Moreover, it certainly did not take very long for that realization to be driven home to her in unmistakable fashion.

That occurred the very next day, Saturday, November 18th, when she accidentally found Runa's collar lying in the hedge near her outdoor patio. "Wäre es am Freitag schon da gewesen, hätte ich es gesehen," she deduced to Blick."Der Täter kam also noch einmal züruck."

Along about that same time, an unidentified next-door neighbor of hers found Runa's name tag but it has not been disclosed exactly where that discovery was made; most likely, it was found somewhere near the boundary line that separates their respective houses. Regardless of where it was found, it was promptly turned over to the Katonspolizei Aargau in Aarau, twenty-eight kilometers west of Oberrohrdorf.

Those twin discoveries ultimately proved to be every bit as frightening as they were chilling. First of all, they strongly imply that Runa's killer made at least two, and possibly three, separate trips to Rebmann's Gründstuck.

Secondly, given that Runa's collar was the type that can only be gotten off by cutting it in two, the mere fact that it was still intact means that it either fell off or was removed after she had been decapitated. Thirdly, assuming that the killer did not already know who that Runa belonged to, he doubtlessly obtained that piece of vital information from her name tag.

The implications of that revelation certainly were not lost on Rebmann. "Wer eine Katze so töten kann, ist ein gefährlicher Mensch," she declared to Blick."Wir haben Angst."

Longtime Oberrohrdorfer Gemeindeammann Kurt Scherer, sixty-six, echoed those dire sentiments. "So etwas hat es bei uns noch nie gegeben," he told Blick on November 21st. (See "'So obscheulich, als würde man ein Kind misshandeln'.")"Das ist einfach nur brutal, was man Runa angetan hat. Das ist so abscheulich, als würde man ein Kind misshandeln."

Although those who have studied serial killers have noted that they often began their killing sprees by preying upon cats and other small animals, that is by no means always the case. In particular, numerous cat killers have been unmasked as inveterate cowards who would not so much as dare to attack a human. It therefore is far from clear if Rebmann and her family are in any imminent danger from Runa's killer.

Upon finding Runa's remains in her garden, Rebmann did the right thing by taking them to an unidentified veterinarian for a necropsy. "Er hat so etwas noch nie gesehen," she afterwards told Blick in the November 20th article cited supra.

Once the necropsy had been completed it revealed that Runa had sustained internal bleeding and multiple injuries before she had been decapitated. Up until then Rebmann had been clinging to the utterly absurd notion that Runa's killing had, somehow, been painless and quick. "Das stellte sich als trauriger Irrtum heraus," she finally was forced into acknowledging to Blick on November 28th. (See "Runa (drei Jahre alt) wurde erst verprügelt, dann geköpft!")

Philomena Füglistaler...

The stripping away of that last vestige of solace was sufficient in order to have had a deleterious effect upon both her physical and mental health. In particular, it caused her to have a nervous breakdown at the office where she works as a mechanical engineer and that in turn necessitated that she had to be driven home by a co-worker.

"Ich musste mich hinsetzen. Mir war übel, und ich hatte überhaupt keine Kraft mehr," she disclosed to Blick on November 28th. "Meine Gedanken drehen sich die ganze Zeit um diese grausame Tat."

It is even far worse for her whenever she is at home. "Seit der Nachricht (of the necropsy) wage ich mich fast nicht mehr in den Garten," she added to Blick."Jedes Mal, wenn ich zur Grüngut-Tonne gehe oder eine Zigarette draussen rauche, habe ich ein ungutes Gefühl und schaue mich um, ob sich vielleicht jemand im Garten versteck."

As it is almost universally the case whenever a cat is murdered, absolutely nothing apparently is being done in order to apprehend Runa's killer. For instance, the only support that Rebmann and her family have received so far from the local political establishment has been a proverbial feast of insincere rhetoric.

"Wir haben bei uns in der Gemeinde die Regionalpolizei (Katonspolizei Aargau), und seit einiger Zeit patrouillieren die Alpha Security (of Kirchdorf, one-hundred-twenty-six kilometers southwest of Oberrohrdorf)," Scherer told Blick on November 21st. "Seither gab es so gut wie keine Zwischenfälle -- bis jetzt."

Whereas preventing future cat killings is certainly a worthy goal, Scherer's spiel tap dances around the more pressing issue of bringing Runa's killer to justice. The good-for-nothing Kantonspolizei Aargau likewise have been long on the palaver but awfully short on action.

"Es geht hier um eine Widerhandlung gegen das Tierschutzgesetz," was the sum total of all that the force's Rafael Geiser had to say to Blick on November 20th.

His fellow officer, Berhhard Graser, has been every bit as unforthcoming. "Das Ermittlungen laufen auf Hochtouren," was all that he relayed to Blick on November 28th.

As best as it could be determined, neither the Aargauischer Tierschutzverein in Untersiggenthal, twelve kilometers northwest of Oberrohrdorf, nor the Schweizerischen Tiermeldezentrale of Hergiswil, seventy-three kilometers south of Oberrohrdorf, have even so much as commented upon, let alone opened investigations, into Runa's brutal murder. They likewise have not offered any rewards for information that might lead to an arrest.

Although such expedients are almost always at best either pointless acts of beau geste or, at worst, dishonest fundraising tactics, they once in a blue moon do get results.  (See Cat Defender post of January 6, 2010 entitled "A Large Reward Fails to Lead to the Capture of the Archer Who Shot an Arrow Through Brownie's Head.")

It has been pointed out before but crimes committed against cats never will be solved unless the police and animal protection groups can, somehow, be prevailed upon to take them seriously and that entails, above all, a willingness to commit the money and manpower that their resolution deserve and require. Secondly, the same investigatory procedures and sound principles of forensic science that are used in order to solve other types of crimes must be applied in resolving those that are perpetrated against cats.

... and Photos of Her Four Missing, and Presumed Dead, Cats

For example, if the police and politicians merely ran off at the mouth every time that a citizen was either robbed or killed they not only never would solve a single case but nobody's property and life would be worth so much as a plugged nickel. Yet, that is precisely the balderdash that they so freely dole out to aggrieved owners every time that one of their cats is killed. Consequently, it is not the least bit surprising that these types of hideous crimes continue to proliferate.

In Runa's case, just about all of the pertinent rules of evidence gathering were systematically ignored. Most obviously, both her collar and name tag should have been dusted not only for fingerprints but other forensic evidence as well.

Evidence likewise should have been carefully collected from underneath her claws as well as her teeth. Unless her assailant was an especially proficient and skillful killer of cats, she likely was able to have gotten a piece of him and that DNA evidence could have been matched up to him directly or, if he has a previous criminal record, compared to other such data that has been logged into police databanks.

Although considerably less promising, her fur should have been thoroughly combed for additional evidence. For example, it could have contained microscopic particles from her assailant's person (hair), clothing, house, and the instruments that he used in order to beat her to death. Trained laboratory technicians then might have been able to have used that data in order to facilitate the making of an arrest.

Rebmann's garden also should have been treated as a crime scene and accordingly gone over with a fine-tooth comb in a search for footprints, blood, and other evidence. It is entirely conceivable that the killer could have left behind a faint trail of blood that led back to his house.

As far as it has been revealed, none of that was done and now it is, regrettably, too late for the derelict authorities to make amends. The evidence is gone and Runa's remains, in all probability, have been either buried, burned, or thrown out in the trash.

The only known lead to have surfaced so far has come courtesy from another unidentified next-door neighbor who claims to have seen a mysterious young man in the neighborhood on the evening of November 18th. When approached, he claimed to have been lost before quickly beating a hasty retreat.

That is not much to go on and it is hardly worth pursuing unless he should be spotted again in the neighborhood and is subsequently unable to provide a valid explanation for his presence. Generally speaking, however, the killing of Runa does not appear to have been a random act of violence perpetrated by someone from outside the area.

In that regard, the authorities actually have at their disposal considerably more to go on than they may realize. First of all, the perpetrator of this heinous crime is someone with a long-term, ingrained hatred of cats and that petit fait is verified by the fact that he endeavored to inflict as much punishment upon Runa as possible by beating her to death before decapitating her.

Secondly, he wanted so badly to make Rebmann and her family suffer that he twice risked capture by returning Runa's body and collar to her garden. He therefore is not only a ruthless and remorseless killer but a daring individual who fervently believes that he either will not be apprehended or, if so,  not be punished.

He is so dedicated to his cause that he is willing not only to stay up all night but out on the forlorn streets as well in order to commit his crimes. Finally, he travels on foot and that can only mean that, contrary to Rebmann's thinking, he is one of her neighbors. She possibly could even be acquainted with him.

Margrit Wasser and Arthur Ulrich with Photos of Ronny

Since it is not known where and how far Runa's nighttime rambles took her, it is impossible to say whether her assailant lives near Rebmann or several blocks removed. Nonetheless, it would be surprising if he did not reside within easy walking distance for both him and Runa.

Convincing cat owners that they live in a world chock-full of supremely evil people is a huge part of the problem when it comes to both safeguarding the lives of cats as well as apprehending those who abuse and kill them. That dilemma is further compounded by the fact that evil more often than not goes hand in hand with duplicity.

C'est-à-dire, most individuals in this world are not only Janus-faced but twenty-faced as well. Nobody accordingly really knows for sure the almost limitless scope of simply god-awful and diabolical crimes that their seemingly respectable bourgeois neighbors are fully capable of committing against cats.

Much more to the point, when it comes to killing cats the reasons may vary but the perpetrators are almost always nearby neighbors. For instance, some of them will kill cats if they so much as come near their precious old jalopies. (See Cat Defender posts of June 22, 2006 and July 8, 2010 entitled, respectively, "A Used Car Dealer in Virginia Murders Sweet Three-Year-Old Carmen with a Rifle Shot to the Neck" and "A North Carolina State Trooper Who Illegally Trapped and Shot His Next-Door Neighbor's Cat, Rowdy, Is Now Crying for His Job Back.")

Others feel that they are entirely justified in killing, by any diabolical means at their disposal, any cat who so much as sets foot on their turf. (See Cat Defender posts of August 14, 2007, September 24, 2007, and June 30, 2011 entitled, respectively, "Grieving Owner Seeks Justice for an Orange Tabby Named Bill That Was Hunted Down and Savagely Killed with a Bow and Arrow,""A California Man Who Slew His Neighbor's Cat, Bill, with a Bow and Arrow Is Sentenced to Three Years in Jail," and "No Cat Is Safe Any Longer in a New Hampshire Resort Town after a Local Court Sets Free Molly's Shotgun Murderer with a Trivial $200 Fine.")

Those that are either too lazy or cowardly in order to do their own dirty work can always, at least in America, rely upon the ever obliging police to act as their surrogates whenever they decide to get rid of their neighbors' cats. (See Cat Defender posts of March 31, 2008, September 16, 2009, September 22, 2011, September 27, 2014, and September 1, 2016 entitled, respectively, "A Cecil, Pennsylvania, Police Officer Summarily Executes a Family's Beloved Ten-Year-Old Persian, Elmo,""Acting Solely Upon the Lies of a Cat-Hater, the Raymore Police Pump Two Shotgun Blasts into the Head of Nineteen-Year-Old Declawed and Deaf Tobey,""The Neanderthaloid Politicians in Lebanon, Ohio, Wholeheartedly Sanction the Illegal and Cold-Blooded Murder of Haze by a Trigger-Happy Cop,""Falsely Branded as Being Rabid by a Cat-Hater, an Animal Control Officer, and the Gorham Police Department, Clark Is Hounded Down and Blasted with a Shotgun," and "The Legal and Political Establishment in a Small Pennsylvania Backwater Close Ranks and Pull Out All the Stops in Order to Save the Job and Liberty of the Bloodthirsty Cop Who Murdered Sugar.")

Some individuals even use their neighbors' cats for target practice. (See Cat Defender post of December 18, 2009 entitled "A Teenage Wino Who Gunned Down Her Neighbor's Cat, Trouble, with a Crossbow from Her Bedroom Window Cheats Justice.")

Gardeners are yet still another group of criminals who believe that they have a carte blanche right to steal and kill their neighbors' cats. (See Cat Defender posts of June 10, 2010, August 19, 2010, August 26, 2010, and March 13, 2012 entitled, respectively, "A Cat-Hating Gardener in Nordrhein Westfalen Is Told by the Local Authorities to Remove a Board of Nails from His Yard,""Music Lessons and Buggsey Are Murdered by a Cat-Hating Gardener and an Extermination Factory Posing as an Animal Shelter in Saginaw,""In Stark Contract to Ailurophobic America, Ziegelchen's Illegal Trapping by a Gardener in Altstädten-Burbach Is Roundly Condemned in Deutschland," and "The Sick Wife Defense Works Like a Charm for Cunning Patrick Doyle after He Traps a Cat and Then Shoots It with an Air Rifle While Still in Its Cage.")

Try as they may, none of those individuals and groups can hold so much as a candle to bird lovers. They are sans doute the most mendacious, cleverest, and sadistic killers of their neighbors' cats in this world. (See Cat Defender posts of June 15, 2006, March 9, 2007, October 30, 2006, October 30, 2007, November 16, 2007, and March 9, 2012 entitled, respectively, "A Serial Cat Killer on Long Island Traps His Neighbors' Cats and Then Gives Them to a Shelter to Exterminate,""A Long Island Serial Cat Killer Is Adjudicated Guilty of Only Disorderly Conduct, a Corrupt Court Rules,""A Collar Saves Turbo from Extermination after He Is Illegally Trapped by Bird-Loving Psychopaths,""A Crafty Bird Lover Claims Responsibility for Stealing Six Cats from a Southampton Neighborhood and Concealing Their Whereabouts,""Fletcher, One of the Cats Abducted from Bramley Crescent, Is Killed by a Motorist in Corhampton," and "An Amateur Ornithologist Guns Down Hartley with an Air Rifle, Feigns Remorse, and Then Cheats Justice by Begging and Lying.")

Ted "Slick Willie" Williams of the National Audubon Society is even so brazen as to have proposed that cats be poisoned out of existence with acetaminophen. (See Cat Defender post of May 18, 2013 entitled "Ted Williams and the National Audubon Society Issue a Call for Cats to Be Poisoned with Tylenol® and Then Try to Lie Out of It.")

Ronny Very Well Could Be the Killer's Next Victim

As of yet there is not so much as a shred of evidence linking any ornithologist, amateur or professional, to Runa's murder but the methodology and utter savagery of it most assuredly point in that direction. For example on December 13, 2010, seventy-four-year-old amateur ornithologist Ernst Bernhard K. from the Moosach section of München trapped his neighbor's cat, Rocco, and then proceeded to starve and torture him with water and pepper spray over an extended eleven-day period.

He finally finished him off when another neighbor accidentally tumbled to what he was doing but if she had not intervened it is entirely conceivable that he would have done to Rocco exactly what Runa's executioner did to her. (See Cat Defender posts of January 19, 2011, August 8, 2011, and August 17, 2011 entitled, respectively, "A Bird Lover in München Illegally Traps Rocco and Then Methodically Tortures Him to Death with Water and Pepper Spray over an Eleven-Day Period,""Ernst K.'s Trial for Kidnapping, Torturing, and Murdering Rocco Nears Its Climax in a München Courtroom," and "Ernst K. Walks Away Smelling Like a Rose as Both the Prosecutor and Judge Turn His Trial for Killing Rocco into a Lovefest for a Sadistic Cat Killer.")

If against all odds anyone in Oberrohrdorf should have even the tiniest bit of interest in bringing Runa's killer to justice, a good place to start would be by identifying all bird lovers living in Rebmann's neighborhood. That task might even be as simple as peering into gardens for the presence of bird houses and feeders.

Warrants then could be procured for extensive searches of the premises. If even so much as trace amounts of Runa's blood and fur were to be found, the police then would have her killer.

Such an undertaking would be, at the very least, most definitely worth a try. If the police cannot be prevailed upon to pursue such a lead, Rebmann then should seriously consider retaining the services of a private dick to act in their stead. (See Cat Defender post of April 2, 2015 entitled "A Cornishman Shells Out £10,000 on Private Peepers in Order to Track Down Farah 's Killer but Once Again Gets Stiffed by Both the Police and the RSPCA.")

Rebmann's confidence in the innocence of her neighbors is all the more baffling in light of the fact that there have been a number of unexplained disappearances of cats in the area in recent years. For example, four felines belonging to twenty-eight-year-old Philomena Füglistaler have mysteriously disappeared without so much as a trace during the past three years.

Specifically, eighteen-month-old Max vanished in 2014. Two-year-old Degerli likewise disappeared a year later. In 2017 alone, she lost one-year-old cats Loris and Charley. Their disappearances proved to be the last straw as far as she was concerned and she accordingly moved out of the area in October.

"Sie kamen einfach nicht mehr heim," she told Blick on November 21st. (See "'Wir haben keine ruhige Minute mehr!'")"Busi kriegt man ja legal."

Her last statement is an obscure reference to the fact that the Swiss make a mint by stealing and killing cats for their valuable pelts. (See The Independent of London, articles dated March 1, 2000 and April 25, 2008 and entitled, respectively, "Millions of Cats and Dogs 'Killed for Fur Coats'" and "Switzerland Finds a Way to Skin a Cat for the Fur Trade and High Fashion," Le Matin of Lausanne, articles dated September 13, 2007 and November 16, 2007 and entitled, respectively, "Bardot interpelle Calmy-Rey" and "Sur la piste des chats disparus," and Le Monde of Paris, November 9, 2007, "Disparition de chats en Haute-Savoie: soupçon d'une trafic vers la suisse.")

The Swiss also do a booming business by stealing cats and in turn selling them to vivisectors to torture to death. Perhaps most egregious of all, they also eat them. (See Blick articles dated August 3, 2008, August 10, 2008, and November 1, 2015 and entitled, respectively, "'Es ist sehr zartes Fleisch,'""'Ich esse lieber Hunde als Katzen,'" and "Martin Bühlmann hat Katzen zum Fressen gern," France-Soir of Paris, August 6, 2008, "Suisse -- Le chat est au menu des Helvètes!," and Le Matin, August 4, 2008, "Toute l'Europe se moque des Suisses, mangeurs de chats.")

Mia and Monika Diebold

Since Füglistaler's cats vanished into seemingly thin air, no one is able to say exactly what happened to them, but in Runa's case she most definitely was not killed for either her flesh, fur, or science. That does not necessarily mean, however, that their fates are unrelated.

Au contraire, all of them more than likely were killed by the same culprit. The only difference being that with Runa the killer wanted to make a far bolder and graphic display of his hatred for cats. That, too, would be in keeping with the modus operandi of ornithologists who usually are long-term, serial abusers and killers of cats whose crimes escalate in severity and scope the more emboldened that they become in their lawlessness and devilry.

Since there normally are not any songbirds out at night for cats to hunt even if they should be so inclined, that raises the suspicion that it was Runa's daytime activities that got her into trouble. Since Rebmann and her family allowed her to stay out all night, there is a good possibility that they also turned her loose to roam while they were away at work and school.

As a consequence, they had little or no idea what she was doing both day and night and under  almost any scenario that is a ready-made prescription for disaster. Compounding matters further, she was an extremely friendly cat.

"Sie war sehr zutraulich und verspielt," Rebmann told Blick in the November 20th article cited supra."Man konnte sie leicht anlocken und streicheln."

She therefore could have unwittingly walked into the hands of her killer. Given that friendly and trusting cats are quite often victimized by miscreants, it is not a good idea to either socialize a cat too much or to allow it to accept food and milk from strangers.

Every bit as important, owners need to know who and what types of individuals and animals inhabit their neighborhoods. If their cats should choose to stray from their gardens, they likewise need to trail them in order to find out where that they are going and what they are doing.

Of late, some owners have begun outfitting their cats with expensive tracking collars and cameras but neither of them are of any benefit to their cats unless they are willing to act upon the data gleaned from them. (See Cat Defender posts of March 29, 2017 and June 11, 2007 entitled, respectively, "Archie Is Knowingly Allowed To Sleep Smack-Dab in the Middle of a Busy Thoroughfare by His Derelict Owners Who Are Contented with Merely Tracking His Movements by Satellite" and "Katzen-Kameras Are Not Only Cruel and Inhumane but Represent an Assault Upon Cats' Liberties and Privacy.")

Runa's killing not only has unnerved Rebmann and her family but her fellow cat owners in the neighborhood as well. For instance, when twelve-year-old Ronny recently stayed away from home for several days his owners, eighty-seven-year-old Arthur Ulrich and eighty-one-year-old Margrit Wasser, feared the worst.

"Wir haben jetzt keine ruhige Minute mehr!" Ulrich testified to Blick in the November 21st article cited supra."Denn Ronny war schon mal vier Tag nicht heimgekehrt. Er kam dann wieder."

Runa Was Such a Beautiful Cat Who Had So Many Reasons to Live

Even so, the couple seems to be resigned to losing him to the sadistic killer that is running loose in their neighborhood. "Wir können ihn nicht drin behalten," Wasser added to Blick.

At least Ronny is said not to be a friendly cat and that just might be sufficient in order to save his life. Nevertheless, it must always be borne in mind that although ornithologists much prefer to slowly torture the life out of their victims, they are more than willing to settle for either shooting or poisoning them if they are unable to get their hands on them.

"Er ist erschreckend, was hier im Quartier passiert ist," forty-nine-year-old pediatric nurse Monika Diebold related to Blick on November 21st. "Man sollte ein Tier doch noch rauslassen können!"

While that would be ideal, she is playing Russian roulette with the life of her nine-year-old gray cat, Mia, if she continues to allow her to roam under the current circumstances. At the very least she should always supervise her rambles and keep her inside at night and during the day when she is away at work.

If they have not done so already, residents of the area might want to consider installing surveillance cameras outside their houses. If they ultimately should choose to do so, it is imperative that they purchase multiple cameras that take good quality photographs from multiple angles. Grainy, distant shot of fleeing suspects in hoods and hats are of little value.

On the other hand, good-quality cameras can be effective in identifying suspects. They do not, however, save feline lives.

For example, clever sixty-eight-year-old Larry Negard of 6008 Tracy Lane in Bossier City, Louisiana, was able to successfully get away with killing at least nine cats that belonged to his next-door neighbors, Randy and Patsy Hamilton, before they installed cameras. (See the Bossier Press-Tribune, March 4, 2016, "Bossier Man Jailed for Killing Neighbor's Cat.")

The most pressing issue at the moment facing residents of Oberrohrdorf is the identification and apprehension of Runa's killer. After that, nothing short of either life imprisonment or, law permitting, his execution will suffice.

"Die schrecklichen Bilder lassen mich nicht mehr los," Rebmann declared to Blick on November 20th and nothing, not even the arrest of Runa's killer, is likely to change that. She has been irreparably scarred for life.

Such a development nevertheless would expose this monster and, perhaps, even get him off the streets for a while and that unquestionably would save the lives of other cats that reside in the neighborhood. It will not bring Runa back, however. The damage has been done and she, sadly, is gone forever.

Photos: Jordana Rebmann (Runa), Beat Michel of Blick (Rebmann), and Ralph Dongli of Blick (Füglistaler, her missing cats, Wasser and Ulrich, Ronny, and Mia with Diebold).

Thomas Has Had a Narrow Escape

"He just started clawing at me and slipped out of my arms."
-- Lea Stockham

At approximately 9:43 p.m. on Sunday, October 8th the Tubbs Fire broke out in Calistoga, twenty-seven kilometers northeast of Santa Rosa. The fast-moving blaze traveled nineteen kilometers in the next three hours and was rapidly closing in on Santa Rosa.

Evacuations began at 1:30 a.m. the following morning and on Skyfarm Drive, south of Mark West Spring Road, Dani and Boyd Stockham roused their teenage daughters, fifteen-year-old Lea and sixteen-year-old Grace, and prepared to join their fellow neighbors in fleeing the approaching holocaust. "Get up, get dressed. We got to go," Dani told the girls according to the November 29th edition of the San Francisco Chronicle.(See "Tubbs Fire Victims Thought Their Cat Was Dead and Buried. He Wasn't.")"There's a fire and it's close."

Corralling the girls was easily accomplished in that they did not require any persuading as to the danger that the fire posed to their continued existence. It was an entirely different matter, however, when it came to the family's thirteen-year-old, gray and white resident feline, Thomas. "He just started clawing at me and slipped out of my arms," Lea told the San Francisco Chronicle.

Neither she nor her parents even bothered to so much as go after him; instead, they left him to the mercy of the flames while they hightailed it out of Santa Rosa and to safety. They committed that unconscionable act of perfidy in spite of the fact that he had been an integral part of their family for more than a dozen years.

"I got him when I was two (years old) and he was like my first animal," Lea confessed to KTVU-TV of Oakland on November 29th. (See "Thomas the Cat Reunited with Family Seven Weeks after Going Missing in Santa Rosa Fires.")"Realizing that he was gone was terrible."

Three days later on October 12th, the Stockhams returned to the burned-out rubble that once had been their dwelling and in Thomas' diminutive house on a porch they found the remains of a cat. "It was gray and white and you could just see fur on the back of the head," Dani later related to The Sacramento Bee on November 30th. (See "Family Was Heartbroken over Cat's Apparent Death in Tubbs Fire. Then They Got an Email.")"There was no doubt that it was Thomas."

The family afterwards held a memorial service for him that included a printed program. It is unclear, however, what was done with the victim's remains. They could have been either buried, burned, or casually tossed out in the trash.

After offering up their obsequies, the Stockhams soon forgot all about Thomas, which was certainly easy enough to have done considering all the other pressing matters that they had on their plates. Then, out of the blue, on November 26th they received an email letter from Avid Microchip of Norco, south of Los Angeles, informing them that Thomas was in fact not dead at all but rather very much still alive.

"Initially we thought it was some kind of cruel scan," Dani later told the San Francisco Chronicle.

Lea was every bit as incredulous as her mother. "When my parents said we got the email, I started crying because I was like, 'No way. This can't be happening'," she related to KTVU-TV.

In fact, she was not fully convinced that he was still alive until she, Grace, and her father went and collected him from an undisclosed location. "I didn't believe it till I saw him like meowing and purring. He knew it was me!" she added to KTVU-TV. "It was amazing. I was so happy."

Once she, too, had been convinced that Thomas was indeed still alive, Lea's mother was equally ecstatic. "Thomas is alive! I can't stop shaking!" she told The Sacramento Bee."It's a miracle for our family with everything we have lost."

On that point, Lea wholeheartedly concurred. "It was honestly like the best day I had since the fire," she swore to The Sacramento Bee."It was the greatest day ever."

As it later was revealed, Thomas had been found at around 2 a.m. on November 24th on Split Rail Court which is only 1.44 kilometers north of the Stockham's old abode. Other than being emaciated and slightly injured, he was said to have been in remarkably good shape.

That was rather amazing in itself in that he not only had been forced to elude the flames but to provide for himself in their aftermath for forty-eight days. How that he was able to have pulled all of that off remains a mystery to this very day.

Thomas Is Reunited with Grace and Lea Stockham

It likewise is puzzling that he never returned home. Of course, it is always conceivable that he did so on numerous occasions but never was able to find any of the Stockhams on the premises. Press reports have not delved into the matter but more than likely they were living elsewhere by that time because their house had been rendered completely uninhabitable.

As it soon was learned, he had been found by fifty-three-year-old Shannon Jay of Forestville, eighteen kilometers northwest of Santa Rosa, who is employed as an officer of the United States Park Police (USPP), a division of the Interior Department's National Park Service (NPS). He currently is biding his time trapping cats while on sick leave after having had a benign tumor removed from his brain earlier in the year.

"The idea that they're (cats) out there and people are grieving and (have) lost everything...to just bring that little beacon back to them, to just see how happy they are, it's overwhelming," he gushed to KTVU-TV.

The positive identification of Thomas was made by, not surprisingly, an implanted microchip. The specifics have not been divulged but unless Jay has access to a universal scanner, that determination was made by either a veterinarian or, perhaps, Sonoma County Animal Services (SCAS) at 1247 Century Court in Santa Rosa which is serving as a de facto clearinghouse for animals lost in the Tubbs and other wildfires that broke out last summer and this autumn across both Sonoma and Napa counties.

"Thank God for the microchip. It's such a simple thing," Dani exulted to KTVU-TV. "You just don't think it's going to happen, but (if) he wouldn't have been chipped, they wouldn't have contacted us and I don't think we ever would have found him."

Best of all, Thomas apparently has come through his death-defying travails no worse for the wear. "Thomas is doing great," Lea exclaimed to The Sacramento Bee. "He is still recovering. Very tired and just wants to be beside us."

The news of Thomas' triumph soon was flashed all over both mainstream as well as social media. His is the kind of story that both readers and the capitalist media alike love to wallow in but upon reflection it also leaves much to be desired in the candor department.

Most importantly of all, it has not been adequately explained why that the Stockhams so cruelly and shamefully ran out on Thomas. In particular, exactly where was he and Lea when he slipped out of her grasp?

If they were indoors, she and her family do not have a valid excuse for not collecting him. If, for instance, he had scampered underneath a bed, it should have been dismantled on the spot so as to facilitate his apprehension and caging.

That could not have taken very long and, besides, it and the entire house were destined to be consumed by the flames in any event. On the other hand, if he had run off somewhere outside there was not too much that the members of his family could have done for him. They nonetheless should have at the very least attempted to locate him.

Furthermore, since the entire West Coast stretching from the Mexican border throughout British Columbia has become a tinderbox in recent years, no one residing alongside it has a good excuse for not being prepared in advance for the sudden outbreak of a wildfire. For cat owners, that entails no less than rounding up their companions and confining them indoors at the first report of an approaching conflagration.

A sturdy homemade cage constructed of either wood or steel also is essential. The cheap plastic varieties that the capitalists fob off on the public are not worth so much as a rat's ass under normal circumstances, let alone in any emergency. (See Cat Defender post of March 7, 2008 entitled "Georgia Is Found Safe and Sound after Spending a Harrowing Twenty-Five Days Lost in the Bowels of the New York City Subway System.")

Under such circumstances, all that would be left for an owner to do is to grab the cat, put it in a cage, fire up the old jalopy, and then get out of harm's way. Those owners without automobiles are, unfortunately, pretty much dependent upon the benevolence of their neighbors and rescue personnel.

Accurate statistics are pretty much impossible to obtain, but as of November 3rd SCAS reported that ninety-five lost cats had been found but that one-hundred-fifty-six others still were missing. (See The Press Democrat of Santa Rosa, November 7, 2017, "Amid Sonoma County Wildfires, One Group Uses Social Media to Reunite Pets and Their Families.")

In Sonoma County alone, hundreds more of them likely perished in the Tubbs Fire. Some of them either were homeless to begin with or belonged to TNR colonies but the vast majority of them, apparently, were abandoned by their owners. Even more repulsive, some of those owners still have not even so much as attempted to reclaim them.

The callousness of these cat owners, including the Stockhams, gives a hollow ring to their declarations of undying love. "It's a miracle...it's life-changing," Dani caroled to KTVU-TV. "It really changed the whole dynamic of our recovery."

While it doubtlessly is a miracle that Thomas is still alive today, that is due solely to his own perseverance. Stockham and her family ran out on him in his hour of greatest need and therefore contributed absolutely nothing toward saving his life.

Moreover, they were so eager to believe that he had been burned to death that they grabbed the first dead cat that they came across upon returning home, declared him to be Thomas, disposed of his corpse, and then curtly dismissed the entire matter from their minds. The only thing that can be said in their favor is that they are not the first individuals to have made such a colossal mistake.

Shannon Jay Tinkering with One of His Traps

For example, in May of 2013 forty-eight-year-old Karen Jones of Mardol Road in Ashford, Kent, scooped up the lifeless body of a black cat that had been run down and killed by a hit-and-run motorist on Beecholme Drive in the Kennington section of Kent. Believing it to have been her two-year-old cat, Norman, she eulogized it and buried it in her garden. It therefore was not until the following morning when he turned up for breakfast that she finally realized her faux pas.

Since she thoughtlessly allows him to roam the perilous streets of Kent unescorted both day and night she sans doute had been expecting the worst and, like Stockham, simply buried the first dead black cat that she encountered. (See Cat Defender post of June 12, 2013 entitled "Pronounced Dead, Eulogized, and Then Relegated to the Underworld, Norman Astounds His Guardian by Turning Up Hungry and Grumpy for Breakfast the Very Next Morning.")

On January 25th of last year, thirty-five-year-old Matt Strong found a dead cat in the road outside his house on Barlow Moor Road in Manchester City that he mistook for his beloved three-year-old Gus. He accordingly took the cat's corpse home, buried it in his garden, and afterwards announced on Twitter that Gus was dead.

The local politician got the shock of his life, however, when Gus later turned up for lunch. He nevertheless did have the decency to exhume the dead cat and take it to Ashleigh Veterinary Centre so as to provide its owner with an opportunity to reclaim his remains.

Like Jones before him, Strong resides on a busy street and had been halfway expecting Gus to get mowed down by a motorist. In this case, however, he simply put one and one together and came up with three. (See Cat Defender post of October 7, 2016 entitled "Declared Dead and Prematurely Interred, Gus Gets the Last Laugh for Now but the Next Time Around He May Not Be Quite So Lucky, Especially If His Inattentive Owner Does Not Start Taking Better Care of Him.")

It is not always easy to know exactly what to think about such aberrant behavior. On the one hand, it certainly would have been easy enough for the cats' respective owners to have made such glaring mistakes, especially if the corpses had been either badly mangled or charred.

If that were not the case, their incorrect identifications likely can be attributed to either a lack of  attention to detail or callousness. Plus, the owners more than likely had been not only anticipating their cats' demise but hoping for such dénouements as well.

The more that the matter of inattentive and uncaring owners is delved into the uglier it gets. For in addition to burying the wrong cats, some owners actually have been guilty of burying those that were still very much alive. (See Cat Defender post of June 24, 2013 entitled "Buried Long Before Her Time, Muffin Is Freed from the Crypt by Her Devoted Six-Year-Old Snuggling Partner.")

Jay and his trapping initiative is another matter of grave concern. Far from being the unqualified good that the media in the Bay Area would have the public to believe, it never has been publicly disclosed what he does with the cats that he traps.

The most likely conclusion to be drawn from that simply deplorable situation is that he fobs them off on SCAS and other nearby shelters who, sooner or later, systematically liquidate them. That is how that all such hellhole institutions dispose of their excess "inventories."

If there is any truth in that assertion, he most definitely is not a hero and he certainly is not doing the vast majority of the cats that he traps any favors. In fact, they would be far better off if he simply vacated the playing field and left them to their own devices.

To incarcerate and kill such cats is not only morally indefensible but vividly demonstrates that they have far more to fear from mankind than natural disasters. The utter absurdity of trapping fire victims just to turn around and kill them leads to the suspicion that there could be an ulterior motive behind Jay's activities.

According to press reports, he has undertaken this trapping initiative of his own volition but considering the vast array of flashlights, trail cameras, thermal imaging scopes, night vision goggles, traps, and bait that he makes use of in his work that seems unlikely. Most damning of all, it is all but impossible to believe that anyone who works for the NPS could ever be on the side of cats.

For example on June 8, 2014, it gave the caretakers of a TNR colony comprised on thirty-three cats a scant five days to get out of Plum Beach in Brooklyn. If they had not complied with that outrageous edict, the NPS had vowed to not only destroy the cats' winterized shelters and feeding stations but to trap them and subsequently hand them over to Animal Care and Control to kill. (See Cat Defender post of August 7, 2014 entitled "The National Park Service Racks Up a Major Victory by Expelling the Plum Beach Cats but It Is Thwarted in Its Burning Desire to Dance a Merry Little Jig on Their Graves.")

The NPS' sister agency within the Interior Department, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, not only has exterminated more than two-hundred cats on San Nicolas but trapped, stolen, injured, and killed an even greater number of them in the Florida Keys. (See Cat Defender posts of February 24, 2012 and June 23, 2011 entitled, respectively, "The United States Fish and Wildlife Service and the Humane Society Hoist a Glass in Celebration of Their Extermination of the Cats on San Nicolas Island" and "Wallowing in Welfare Dollars, Lies, and Prejudice, the Bloodthirsty United States Fish and Wildlife Service Is Again Killing Cats in the Florida Keys.")

Furthermore, it would be rather difficult to find so much as a solitary entity within the federal bureaucracy that is not actively involved in defaming and killing cats. (See Cat Defender posts of June 23, 2017 and April 28, 2017 entitled, respectively, "For Eight Long and Tortuous Years, Barack Obama and His Bloodthirsty Henchmen Within the Federal Bureaucracy Waged a Ruthless, No-Holds-Barred War on Cats" and "Trump Not Only Exposes Himself for What He Is but Also Disgraces the Office of the President in the Process by Feting Cat Killers Theodore Anthony Nugent and Kid Rock at the White House.")

In light of its hideous mistreatment of cats, it is not the least bit surprising that both sexual abuse and gender discrimination are rampant at the NPS. (See the Government Executive of Washington, October 13, 2017, "Zinke Cracks Down on Sexual Harassment in National Park Service" and The Washington Post, June 14, 2016, "Lawmakers Charge Park Service Chief Oversees Culture of Sexual Harassment.")

At the Grand Canyon River District, male employees of the NPS even have gone so far as to attempt to starve their female colleagues to death after they shunned their sexual overtures. (See The New York Times, October 13, 2017, "Zinke Vows to End 'Virus' of Harassment in Park Service.")

Thomas Is Now Safe and Sound but for How Long?

Those types of wholesale abuse and discrimination are not by any stretch of the imagination confined to the NPS but rather they have engulfed the entire Interior Department as well. (See The New York Times, December 14, 2017, "Thousands of Interior Department Employees Report Harassment and Intimidation at Work.")

The rot even extends to the department's Office of Law Enforcement and Security (OLES), which oversees the activities of its various police forces, including Jay's own USPP. For example, OLES' head man, Tim K. Lynn, was forced to resign in April after six of his female employees accused him of sexual harassment. (See The Washington Post, May 31, 2017, "A Senior Interior Official Retires after Investigators Find He Sexually Harassed Multiple Women.")

Dani Stockham's profuse praise of implanted microchips is also way off base. Most importantly, they in no way afford cats so much as an iota of protection against either the myriad of dangers that plague their fragile existences or the dereliction of owners such as she. (See Cat Defender post of May 25, 2006 entitled "Plato's Misadventures Expose the Pitfalls of RFID Technology as Applied to Cats.")

They additionally have been shown to cause cancer and, sometimes, paralysis. (See Cat Defender posts of September 21, 2007, November 6, 2010, and April 28, 2016 entitled, respectively, "The FDA Is Suppressing Research That Shows Implanted Microchips Cause Cancer in Mice, Rats, and Dogs,""Bulkin Contracts Cancer from an Implanted Microchip and Now It Is Time for Digital Angel® and Merck to Answer for Their Crimes in a Court of Law," and "Sassie Is Left Paralyzed as the Result of Yet Still Another Horribly Botched Attempt to Implant a Thoroughly Worthless and Pernicious Microchip Between Her Shoulders.")

Even when it comes to reuniting lost cats with their owners microchips are virtually worthless unless the latter have studiously kept their contact data up to date and database administrators are willing to cooperate. (See Cat Defender post of January 24, 2017 entitled "Tigger Is Finally Reunited with His Family Despite the Best Efforts of the Administrators of a Microchip Database to Keep Them Apart.")

The subject is almost never so much as even broached in the United States but implanted microchips do not do either deceased cats or their grieving owners one whit of good. That is because those officials who collect the former's corpses from streets and crime scenes are too lazy and callous to scan them for microchips.

The same holds true for individuals. For instance, the Stockhams would not have buried the wrong cat if they had scanned the dead one that they had found on their porch.

As far as Norman and Gus are concerned, it never was disclosed one way or the other if they had been chipped. It likewise is assumed that the cats buried in their would-be graves were not scanned either.

Doing so would have required trips to either a veterinarian or a shelter and perhaps Jones, Strong, and the Stockhams were unwilling to have invested the time and money that such an exercise would have required. Also, the negative reports that they would have received would have placed them under a moral obligation to, at the very least, have inaugurated belated searches for their still missing cats.

It is an entirely different story in some parts of Angleterre where at least twenty local authorities have now begun to scan dead cats for chips. Afterwards, they then attempt to track down their owners. (See Your Local Guardian of Sutton in Surrey, September 4, 2017, "Croydon Council Says It Checks for Microchips on Dead Cats Following Concerns Owners Kept in Dark.")

To sum up, microchips are of rather limited utility in that for every successful reunification that they help to facilitate, thousands of other lost cats are never heard from again. At the end of the day there simply is not any viable substitute for conscientious owners who regard the lives of their cats as sacrosanct and accordingly endeavor to do everything in their power to preserve them.

Every once in a blue moon Good Samaritans and firefighters will go out of their way in order to save a cat that gets caught up in a wildfire but that is the exception rather than the rule. (See Cat Defender posts of November 20, 2017 and October 14, 2015 entitled, respectively, "Already Ten Years Overdue, the Indomitable Pilot Is Burned to Within an Inch of His Life by a Deadly California Wildfire but Nonetheless Is Still Able to Finally Make It Home in Time for This Thanksgiving" and "Because a Compassionate Firefighter from Oregon Chose to Care When His California Guardians Could Not Be Bothered with Doing So, Monty Burns Is Able to Escape the Valley Fire with His Life.")

Lastly, the severest criticism is reserved for the members of the Fourth Estate who once again have more than abundantly demonstrated that they care absolutely nothing about the welfare of cats. In this particular case, they have completely exonerated the Stockhams, shelters, and Jay of all wrongdoing by refusing to ask so much as one pertinent question about their behavior and activities.

Even worse, that is merely par for the course as far as they are concerned in that the only topics that ever seem to interest them are either good cat survival stories or the outrageous lies disseminated by ornithologists, wildlife biologists, and other ailurophobes. The capitalist media's news coverage is simply god-awful everywhere but in the United States it is the absolute pits.

Looking ahead, Thomas does not appear to be in any imminent danger. Even so, the Stockhams still reside in wildfire country and the outcome could be entirely different next summer if they do not endeavor to take better care of him by mending their callous and irresponsible guardianship of him.

As things now stand, he is still very much on his own just like he was when the roaring flames of the Tubbs Fire consumed his home and threatened to claim his life. Somehow it just seems that in any society that makes the least little pretense about being compassionate and civilized that a faithful and devoted thirteen-year-old cat would be entitled to far better treatment than that.

Photos: Dani Stockham (Thomas), Shannon Jay (Thomas in a cage), and Alvin Jordana of The Press Democrat of Santa Rosa (Jay).

Killing the Cougar  Gave Steve Ecklund Immense Joy

"What a creep. Chasing a cougar with dogs until they are exhausted then shooting a scared, cornered and tired animal. Must be compensating for something, small penis probably."

-- Laureen Ann Harper.

It often has been observed that man is the only animal that kills for the pleasure of doing so and confirmation of that disturbing characteristic was perhaps nowhere more vividly demonstrated than in the recent abhorrent conduct of Ontario native Steve Ecklund. The specifics have not been divulged, but in early December he and at least three other individuals used a pair of beagles in order to track down and kill a very large male cougar in a remote area of the Rocky Mountains somewhere between the small towns of Rocky Mountain House and Drayton Valley in southern Alberta.

Given that between one-hundred-twenty-five and one-hundred-eighty-five of these magnificent cats are killed in a similar fashion each year in Alberta alone, that hardly was news in itself. Rather, it was Ecklund's notoriety as a host of the popular television show, The Edge, that automatically transformed this all-too-common type senseless killing into a newsworthy event.

Not contented with merely snuffing out the forever nameless cat's precious life, he then went on social media in order to gloat. In particular, he wasted no time in posting photographs of himself, delirious with joy and self-importance, parading before the camera all the while holding up the lifeless body of the cat.

In that respect, his bloodthirsty, egomaniacal behavior is reminiscent of that displayed by archers Zach "Shaggy" Slattery and Aaron Wilksch after they had gunned down innumerable domestic cats on Kangaroo Island in 2015. (See Cat Defender post of November 18, 2016 entitled "A Clever Devil at the University of Adelaide Boasts That he Has Discovered the Achilles' Heel of Cats with His Invention of Robotic Grooming Traps as the Thoroughly Evil Australians' All-Out War Against the Species Enters Its Final Stages," the Daily Mail, February 24, 2016, "Man Who Shoots Feral Cats with a Bow and Arrow Posts Pictures of His Kills Online Gets Death Threats for His 'Animal Cruelty'," and Australian Broadcasting Company articles dated February 24, 2016 and March 13, 2016 and entitled, respectively, "Bow Hunter Targeted with Global Hate Campaign for Shooting Feral Cats in Australia" and "Bow Hunting of Feral Cats Is Cruel and 'Not Part of the Strategy,' Threatened Species Commissioner Says.")

Ecklund did not stop there, however, but instead he went on to even outdo Slattery and Wilksch by skinning the cougar and cooking at least some of its flesh. The implication to be drawn for that is that he was hungry but there is not any evidence that he actually consumed any of the cat. Besides, he has money to burn and there most assuredly is not any shortage of food in Canada.

What he did with its luxuriant pelt has not been disclosed but he could have sold it to someone connected to the fur industry. It also is entirely conceivable that he took it, along with the cat's head, to a taxidermist in order to be mounted. The latter expedient accordingly will allow him to not only bask in the glory of his gore until his own hide rots off of his malignant bones but to show off his trophy to his like-minded friends and colleagues.

Press reports have not broached the matter but more than likely the entire chase, kill, celebration, and feasting were filmed for future broadcast on Wild TV of Edmonton which hosts The Edge. After all, professional and monetary considerations usually go hand in hand with a lust for the shedding of innocent blood, the thrill of killing, and runaway egotism.

"...not only is hunting his passion, but a motivational life-saver," either he or, more likely, one of his subordinates, declares on his web site in reference to a trip that he made not too long ago to Alaska in order to kill a Dall's Sheep. He furthermore credits that totally inexcusable killing with enabling him to defeat cancer.

While there is not any known scientific connection between the killing of a sheep and the curing of cancer, some folks in Victorian England apparently believed that having it off with a virgin was a sure-fire cure for venereal disease. It would be nothing short of stupefying if there were any causal connection in either case; rather, Ecklund simply gets a huge thrill out of slaughtering animals whereas some diseased men enjoy deflowering and infecting clean and healthy young girls.

Be that as it may, the good thing about cancer is that it has a long and checkered history of not only recurring but with a vengeance. Furthermore, when it does return it has been known to wipe the smirks off of maps uglier than Ecklund's and of humbling even those more full of themselves than him.

The second thing that has distinguished Ecklund's killing from the thousands of other cougars that are eradicated each year for one reason or another in Canada and the United States has been the unprecedented debate that it has spawned. Predictably, his boss at Wild TV, Ryan Kohler, was thrilled to his back teeth by his underling's actions.

"We fully support the ethical and legal kill that Steve Ecklund has presented to us," he gushed to CTV on December 21st. (See "TV Host's Cougar Hunt Was Legal 'as Far as We Know': Alberta Environment.")"Unfortunately he is getting some huge backlash, but that won't change the fact that we love our hunting heritage in Canada."

Paul Frame of Alberta Environment and Parks (AEP) in Edmonton was quick to put his stamp of approval on the kill. "Did the hunter have a proper license? Was the quota still open in that specific management area? Was everything done legally?" he postured to CTV in a backhanded, exaggerated fashion. "As far as we know, that was a legal hunt."

Ecklund Finally Put the Cat Down but There Was Not Any End to His Gloating

According to data supplied by CTV, Alberta residents are allowed to legally massacre one-hundred-fifty-five cougars each year whereas outsiders, such as Ecklund, are permitted to gun down another thirty of them. For example, during the 2016-2017 hunting season, one-thousand-twenty-five licenses were issued which resulted in the deaths of one-hundred-twenty-five cougars.

During this hunting season, which began on December 1st and extends through the end of February, seven-hundred-seventy-five licenses have been sold so far. CTV purposefully neglects, however, to reveal how many cats have been liquidated to date.

The Daily Mail claims in its December 20th edition, however, that under Alberta law it is illegal to use dogs, such as Ecklund did, in order to track big game animals during the winter hunting season and Frame has conveniently failed to address that important issue. (See "Grinning Canadian TV Presenter Bags a Huge Mountain Lion -- but Some Animal Rights Activists Are Not Happy.")

Ecklund also likes to pass himself off as a so-called fair chase hunter, as opposed to participating in the canned hunts staged by the likes of Ted Turner, Theodore Anthony Nugent, and others, but it is difficult to see so much as a speck of fairness in a gang of bloodthirsty men, armed with high-powered rifles and bows as well as dogs, going after a defenseless cougar. "The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of a gun," Anglo-American novelist P.G. Wodehouse once astutely pointed out.

If Ecklund were a real man instead of the cowardly impostor that he is he would leave his guns, bows, dogs, and buddies at home and hunt cougars by his lonesome and mano a mano. The petit fait that he is far too craven to do any of that just go to show that his idea of a fair chase amounts to little more than an extended version of a canned hunt.

Frame furthermore agrees with Kohler that killing cougars is a fine old, time-honored Canadian way of life. "There's a long-standing tradition of hunting cougars in Alberta," he proudly declared to CTV. "It's been regulated since 1969, with a quota in place since 1990. We adjust quotas based on the environmental conditions of the time, so we review them annually or biannually."

Demonstrating writ large once again that no atrocity perpetrated against cats, not matter how heinous, will ever fail to receive the wholehearted endorsement of those utterly despicable moral degenerates who rule the roost in the world's temples of academic excellence was sixty-seven-year-old wildlife biology professor Mark Stephen Boyce of the University of Alberta in Edmonton. "Cougar hunting is popular, especially with hounds," is how that he began his defense of Ecklund to CTV.

From that starting point he went on to ludicrously claim that dispatching cougars to the devil was a form of public service that would not adversely affect the health of the species. "There is considerable concern about rising numbers of cougars because they are dangerous...and occasionally they kill livestock," he pontificated. "Hunter harvests are low enough that they do not threaten our cougar populations and sustainable harvests are possible."

First of all, as a wildlife biologist Old Boyce Bird is surely aware that cougars were present in Alberta and elsewhere in North America a long time before he and the sportsmen, ranchers, and other economic interests that he stooges for ever arrived on the scene. He and his fellow murderers therefore are guilty of invading and trespassing upon their turf, not vice-versa.

Secondly, cougar attacks upon humans are extremely rare even in the densely populated areas that surround the Santa Monica and Santa Ana mountains near Los Angeles. It therefore seems fair to conclude that they would be even less common in a remote and thinly-populated area such as Alberta.

Finally, after stooping about as low as an academician can without coming eyeball to eyeball with a termite, Old Boyce Bird chucked off the mask of all intellectual respectability and finally revealed his true colors. "This is an anti-hunting rant," he bellowed like a stuck pig to CTV in reference to Ecklund's detractors. "There is nothing illegal about cougar hunting, but I understand that some people do not accept hunting. That's a personal choice."

There is not, arguably, anything quite as amusing as to sit back and listen to loudmouthed, pompous, and dogmatic professors cavalierly dismissing all opinion and values that they disagree with as being either rants or totally irrelevant. According to their modus operandi, telling lies, wallowing in prejudices, killing innocent cats, arousing irrational and unfounded fears in the uneducated masses, and pimping and whoring for economic interests is the one and only true way to live and think.

Furthermore, since he believes that killing cats is purely a personal choice, it would be interesting to know his thoughts on homicide. For instance, would he feel comfortable with doing away with the laws against murder?

Wildlife biologist Adam Ford of the University of British Columbia in Okanagan not only endorsed Frame's and Boyce's opinions on the sustainability of cougar hunting but he ventured one step further by making it explicit that when it comes to cats individuals do not count. "It's seeing a much greater value on an individual animal rather than a population, but the system is set up for us to manage populations, not individuals," he told The Canadian Press via the Woodstock Sentinel Review of Ontario on January 8th. (See "Cougar Hunt in Alberta Sparks Debate Among Scientists, Hunters and Activists.")"The way hunting has been designed for a long time is not to have an impact on the population."

Ecklund and His Confederates Celebrate Their Evil Act

With such an ossified mindset his next utterance hardly came as any surprise. "My morals are different from yours, but facts should be facts," he barked like the hound of the Baskervilles to the Woodstock Sentinel Review.

In regard to his first admission, it would have been far more honest for him to have declared that he does not have any morals at all. If the lives of individual animals do not count for anything at all, there can scarcely be any morality in keeping alive a few members of a given species just so that Ford and his like-minded henchmen can subjugate, debase and, sooner or later, wipe out altogether.

On those occasions when such morally bankrupt thinking has held sway over the minds of men it usually has resulted in fascism, genocide, and ethnic cleansing and the so-called management, electronic monitoring, and culling of species amount to pretty much the same thing. The only real difference that separates the two is that the hideous crimes perpetrated by Ford and his supporters are carried out over a longer period of time and on a piecemeal basis.

Such a distinction nevertheless fails to substantially alter the reality that both groups travel a road that leads to the same cul-de-sac for both animals and humans alike. (See Cat Defender posts of April 17, 2006, May 4, 2006, and February 29, 2008 entitled, respectively, "Hal the Central Park Coyote Is Suffocated to Death by Wildlife Biologists Attempting to Tag Him.""The Scientific Community's Use of High-Tech Surveillance Is Aimed at Subjugating, Not Saving, the Animals," and "The Repeated Hounding Down and Tagging of Walruses Exposes Electronic Surveillance as Not Only Cruel but a Fraud.")

It is way too much for minds like Ford and Boyce to comprehend, but not a single animal is born to serve as prey for mankind. "Every creature is better alive than dead, man and moose and pine trees, and he who understands it aright will rather preserve life than destroy it," Henry David Thoreau once said.

Ford's dishonest reliance upon facts amounts to little more than an unsupported assertion of authority. That is because facts do not exist in a vacuum and therefore can never be completely divested of the value judgments that are inherent in both their creation and accumulation.

"As politics have gotten more and more polarized, everyone has to claim their views are objective, pure and factual, which means they are pulled into the scientific side," David Goldston of Princeton University was honest enough to admit to USA Today on August 6, 2007. (See "Science Versus Politics Gets Down and Dirty.")"Most of these issues are largely values questions, but no one wants to discuss those, so we end up with baroque debates about science."

Tom Shakespeare has stated the case even more forcefully. "...I am not sure philosophers are so different from the lay public (that relies upon intuition), it's just that the former are trained to cover their tracks with an impressive edifice of arguments and logic," he told the New Scientist on July 23, 2008. (See "A World Based on Reason.")"It is hard to be truly objective, to eliminate our history, and culture and psychology from our thinking."

C'est-à-dire, the question of whether cougars are to live or die is preeminently a moral one that has absolutely nothing to do with science. Why, the very idea that either science or logic should be employed in order to justify the killing of animals is simply monstrous as well as being disingenuous.

Moreover, treating individual cougars as disposable and of no inherent value fails to take into consideration the injustice of robbing them of their right to exist as well as the fear and suffering inflicted upon them through the commission of such crimes. Such warped thinking likewise fails to take into consideration their intrinsic value to their mates, offspring, the species, and the health of the ecosystem to which they belong. Killing them also robs their supporters of the pleasure of seeing and photographing them.

Wildlife biologists additionally are guilty of incorrectly doing their sums. For example, hunters like Ecklund kill only the fittest animals because they want trophies but that is not how nature operates. In the wild, it usually are the sickly and less fit animals that serve as prey for those that are stronger and healthier.

By removing the fittest representatives of a species from the environment, hunting has been shown in some cases to lead to the birth of smaller and less fit animals. Consequently, the proper management of any species involves considerably more than counting heads as Frame, Boyce, and Ford would have the world to believe.

One of the Cougar's Organs That Ecklund Cut Out

Hunting also produces a large number of orphans who, in most instances, are left to die. Removing species from any environment can also upset the ecological balance and thus lead to all sorts of destructive and unintended consequences.

That sort of imbecility has been demonstrated time and time again by wildlife biologists who attempt to return areas, primarily islands, to some pristine ideal that may or may not even have existed in the past. There is good money to be sure in such undertakings and countless so-called non-native species for them to hideously eradicate but that is all. (See Cat Defender post of September 21, 2006 entitled "The Aussies Mass Extermination of Cats Opens the Door for Mice and Rabbits to Wreak Havoc on Macquarie.")

Over the course of the last one-hundred years or so, all sorts of species, some of which that had been around for millions of years, have either gone extinct or become endangered and that has occurred under the management of wildlife biologists. They therefore are not only guilty of being on the payrolls of hunters and other economic interests but grossly incompetent to boot.

In its full court press designed to legitimize the killing of cougars, the Woodstock Sentinel Review next dredged up Wayne Lowry, a former president of the Alberta Fish and Game Association in Edmonton, in order to contribute his two cents' worth to the debate. "As an outdoor enthusiast, we look for opportunities to get into the outdoors," he gassed to that scurrilous rag. "The cougar season offers a very late-season hunting opportunity."

First of all, who ever knew that Canadians so dearly loved being out in the cold and snow? Even if against all odds that should be true, they could play ice hockey or go sledding. If, on the other hand, they should be looking for something to do that is considerably more challenging, they ought to go skiing in British Columbia and in doing so perhaps they would be lucky enough to get caught in one of the province's famous avalanches.

While he was busily blowing it out both ends, Lowry paused in order to fondly reminisce about a cougar that he killed and mounted fifteen years ago. "It took me two years. For me, it was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of event," he oozed with nostalgia. "It was a great experience...you see the dogs get excited and you get excited as well."

The torrent of outrage directed in Ecklund's direction was spearheaded by, of all people, Laureen Ann Harper, the fifty-four-year-old spouse of former Canadian prime minister Stephen Harper. "What a creep. Chasing a cougar with dogs until they are exhausted then shooting a scared, cornered and tired animal," she wrote on Twitter according to CTV's December 20th edition. (See "Laureen Harper Slams Cougar Hunter as 'Creep' Who 'Must Be Compensating'.") "Must be compensating for something, small penis probably."

Her tweet took many Canadians by surprise and that prompted her to go back online in order to confirm that it indeed was her and that she did use the language attributed to her. "Wasn't hacked," she told CTV on December 20th. "I was really angry that some guy flies all the way to Alberta to kill a magnificent cougar, so he can make a stir fry."

If her tweet accomplished nothing else it provided Ford with another opportunity to take a broad swipe at those individuals who have the temerity to question his authority by defending the inalienable right of individual animals to live. "You see this come up when the individual-focus conservation people see a dead cougar and call people out for having a small penis (sic)."

Even that salvo amounted to little more than beating a dead horse in that Harper already had compromised her moral and intellectual integrity by publicly admitting that her family, and by implication she herself, are avid hunters and fishers. She next lamely attempted to deflect such criticism by arguing that she was only opposed to killing for sport.

Such a distinction is pure nonsense in that it is hard to believe that someone with her affluence ever would need to kill animals in order to feed herself. Much more importantly, the motivating factors behind such killings are irrelevant; the offense lies in the taking of innocent lives.

Chris Darimont, a geography professor at the University of Victoria in British Columbia nonetheless seconded that distinction. "They (opponents of hunting) cannot accept the idea that people kill carnivores not to feed families, but to feed their egos," he opined to the Woodstock Sentinel Review."Wildlife managers for decades have acknowledged that these (animals) are not killed for their meat, but for their trophy items."

No sooner had those words escaped from his lips then he slipped into the same moral sinkhole as Harper by admitting that he slaughters either one elk or one deer each year, allegedly, in order to eat. He also, apparently, is of the opinion that it is permissible to kill ruminants, such as deer and elk, because their flesh is tasty as opposed to that of predators, such as cougars, which reportedly does not have a taste that is pleasing to the palate.

Kid Rock Killed a Cougar with the Help of Nugent

Although the making of such a ridiculous distinction is just one more example of his self-serving hypocrisy, he nevertheless does possess the bon sens to realize that the hunting of cougars needs to be reconsidered. That is because it is difficult to arrive at an accurate count of their numbers and with that being the case there is always the fear that hunting could lead to a precipitate decline in the species.

"There's lots of uncertainty," he admitted to the Woodstock Sentinel Review."(Wildlife) managers can and do make mistakes, and then we are just starting to learn of the evolutionary and social costs of killing large carnivores."

Given that this is the information age, opposition to Ecklund's killing of the cougar was not confined to Canada. "Whether legal or illegal, and whatever country it occurs in, hunting for sport is morally reprehensible and has no place in a so-called civilized society," Lee Moon of the Hunt Saboteurs Association (HSA) of London told the Daily Mail in the December 20th article cited supra."Links between animal and human abuse are well documented and it's beyond our comprehension what makes people think this kind of barbaric act is deemed acceptable."

While what he says is on target as far as it goes, he is guilty of falling into the small moral quagmire that snared both Harper and Darimont. If one is going to gas about morality, there cannot be any justification whatsoever, except in extremely rare cases of self-defense, for the killing of any animal and that most definitely includes operating an abattoir.

As it always is the case whenever any controversy arises concerning animals, the no-account, twenty-four karat fraudsters at PETA were quick to chime in with their warped logic and morality. "Only someone dead in heart and head could fail to see that mountain lions, wild boars, deer, and other animals are thinking, feeling individuals -- not 'things' to blow away for amusement," a spokesperson for the organization told the Daily Mail."All most of us see when we look at a photograph of a hunter who gunned down an animal for 'pleasure' is photographic evidence of a small person with deep-seated insecurities."

That was the same tune that PETA was singing back in 2014 when San Diego called in the USDA's Wildlife Services in order to hideously eradicate its population of homeless pigs. "No animal should be killed for doing that (simply trying to provide for its family and to survive)," the charity's Kristen Simon declared to The San Diego Times-Union on September 17, 2014. (See "City Aims to Kill Feral Pigs.")

Those are lofty sentiments indeed but when it comes to domestic cats PETA's heart is as cold as ice and its intentions every bit as ruthless as those that Jack the Ripper harbored toward women. Specifically, it seldom passes up any opportunity to either defame the species or to slaughter its members en masse.(See Cat Defender posts of January 29, 2007 and February 9, 2007 entitled, respectively, "PETA's Long History of Killing Cats and Dogs Is Finally Exposed in a North Carolina Courtroom" and "Verdict in PETA Trial: Littering Is a Crime but Not the Mass Slaughter of Innocent Cats and Dogs.")

Like Ecklund, it gloats and preens like a peacock every bit as much as he does every time that either it or someone else kills a cat. (See Cat Defender posts of October 7, 2011 and August 24, 2017 entitled, respectively, "PETA Traps and Kills a Cat and Then Goes Online in Order to Brag about Its Criminal and Foul Deed" and "The Brutal Murders of a Trio of Atlantic City's Boardwalk Cats Provide an Occasion for the Local Rag and PETA to Whoop It Up and to Break Open the Champagne.")

With the likes of Harper, Darimont, HSA, and PETA wallowing in both sottise and hypocrisy up to their eyeballs and bolstered by the unfailing support shown him by Kohler, Frame, Boyce, Ford, Lowry, and the Canadian media, it is not surprising that Ecklund is really feeling his oats these days."If you can guess what post has nine-hundred likes, four-hundred-fifty comments, thirteen confirmed death threats, seven-hundred-fifty-four swear words and one very happy hunter in it...I will enter your name into the draw for the new cougar cookbook, filled with mouth water (sic) recipes for your next mountain lion hunt," he is quoted by the Daily Mail as taunting his detractors.

To sum up, the hunting of cougars, or any animal for that matter, cannot be defended on ethical and moral grounds. Secondly, although it may be legal, laws can be changed.

Thirdly, to say that it is traditional is hardly a valid argument in its favor. For instance, at various times and locales in history child abuse, incest, cannibalism, slavery, genocide, and a million other evils have been considered to be traditional but none of them are embraced today by any halfway civilized society.

Fourthly, as far as the sustainability of cougar hunting is concerned, it is absurd for wildlife biologists to claim that to be the case when the best that they can do is to estimate that between two-thousand and thirty-five-hundred of them currently live in Alberta. Moreover, in addition to the carnage inflicted upon the cats by licensed hunters, others are killed by non-licensed hunters and motorists while still others succumb to starvation, disease, and other maladies.

Fifthly, as the international uproar over Ecklund's killing and preening has more than amply demonstrated, attitudes are changing somewhat in that many individuals do in fact care greatly about what happens to individuals members of the species. Plus, they are becoming more and more less willing to allow wildlife biologists, eggheads, hunt associations, and those individuals and organizations that profit from their destruction, such as those who sell hunting licenses, bows, guns, shells, and Wild TV, to continue to have an exclusive right in deciding their fates.

Daniel W. Richards with His Trophy

For example, Ecklund is far from being the first cougar killer to have sparked international outrage. In January of 2015 Kid Rock, assisted by Nugent, killed one of the animals at an undisclosed location believed to ave been somewhere in the western United States and then went online in order to gloat.

In April of last year, both of them were invited to the White House in order to break bread with Donald John Trump. (See The Mirror of London, January 21, 2015, "Kid Rock Angers Fans by Posing with Dead Cougar -- Grisly Snap Was Posted Online after Hunting Trips" and Cat Defender post of April 28, 2017 entitled "Trump Not Only Exposes Himself for What He Is but Also Disgraces the Office of the President in the Process by Feting Cat Killers Theodore Anthony Nugent and Kid Rock at the White House.")

Earlier in February of 2012 Daniel W. Richards, president of the California Fish and Game Commission, shot and subsequently ate a cougar in Idaho. As Ecklund and Rock would later do, he subsequently posted photographs online of himself with the dead cat all the while grinning from ear to ear. Even though the sport hunting of cougars is legal in Idaho, as opposed to California, in August of that same year he was ousted as president and is no longer a member of that body. (See the LA Weekly, August 18, 2012, "Dan Richards Loses War to 'Enviro-Terrorists': Mountain Lion Killer No Longer President of Fish and Game" and KQED-TV of San Francisco, August 8, 2012, "Cougar Hunter Dan Richards Is Out as Fish and Game Commission President after Vote.")

In order to get an idea of how difficult it is to keep these big cats alive it is illustrative to remember that in 1990 the voters in California approved Proposition 117 which outlawed their recreational killing. Yet, instead of saving lives, the measure has led to a quadrupling of their deaths.

That is because the measure contained a very huge loophole that allows for the issuance of depredation permits on demand to livestock and domestic pet owners who claim to have been aggrieved by the cats. Accordingly, since 1990 ninety-eight cougars are killed on the average each year, mostly at the behest of the owners of sheep, goats, and cows.

In 2016, that number soared to one-hundred-twenty. During that same time period, hunters in Oregon killed two-hundred-sixty-eight of the cats for pleasure while livestock owners systematically liquidated another one-hundred-fifty-one of them. (See The Sacramento Bee, November 3, 2017, "Why We Still Kill Cougars.")

On January 2nd of this year, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife announced that it was ending the practice of automatically issuing depredation permits. Aggrieved applicants now are supposed, for what it is worth, to attempt to shoo away the cats before the licenses to kill will be issued.

It is highly doubtful that such a policy is either enforceable or that it is going to make much of a difference when it comes to reducing cougar fatalities. Besides, it pertains only to those cats that live in the Santa Monica and Santa Ana mountain ranges and that act of beau geste has been introduced only because their continued existence is threatened due to inbreeding. (See The Sacramento Bee, January 3, 2018, "State Lifts Automatic Death Sentence for These Mountain Lions That Prey on Pets and Livestock.")

Those cats that reside in Canada do not have any hope at all because any nation that is so bloodthirsty as to club to death more than three-hundred-thousand baby seals each winter for their valuable pelts and to slaughter hundreds, if not indeed thousands, of sled dogs once their services are no longer needed is not about to spare the life of a solitary cougar. (See Cat Defender post of March 27, 2006 entitled "Six Protesters Arrested as Baby Seal Slaughter Gets Under Way in Canada," Daily Mail articles of February 1, 2011 and May 3, 2011 and entitled, respectively, "Pack of One-Hundred Huskies Shot and Knifed to Death Before Being Tossed in a Mass Grave by Tour Operator Trying to Save Money" and "War Game Experts Exhume Bodies of One-Hundred Sled Dogs Killed by Tour Operator in Post Winter Olympics Massacre," plus The Globe and Mail of Toronto, November 22, 2012, "Fawcett Spared Jail Time in Sentencing Related to Sled Dog Killings.")

"An animal so lost in rapturous contemplation of what he thinks he is as to overlook what he indubitably ought to be," is how that Ambrose Bierce defined man in his 1906 seminal work, The Devil's Dictionary."His chief occupation is extermination of other animals and his own species, which, however, multiplies with such insistent rapidity as to infest the whole habitable earth and Canada."

That was true back then and it is even more so the case all these years later. Tomorrow is not soon enough for many individuals in that if they could they would have done with all the animals and Mother Earth to boot today and without so much as smidgen of remorse.

As things now stand, they are going to have to still their killing hands for just a little bit longer. That is because there are still beaucoup bucks for some of them to make from the naked exploitation of them, lies to be told by the eggheads, and countless thrills and ego trips to be had by cougar killers such as Ecklund, Rock, Nugent, and Richards.

In this world, the beautiful and the noble most of the time serve as fodder for the ugly and base but that sobering reality cannot obliterate the eternal truth that the life of just one cougar is worth that of at least ten billion of their killers and those who so shamelessly defend them.

Photos: Facebook (Ecklund with the dead cougar and a piece of its flesh), The Mirror (Rock and Nugent with a dead cougar), and the LA Weekly (Richards with a dead cougar).

Hamide Boran with a Few of Her Cats

"I can starve, but my cats must have full stomachs."
-- Hamide Boran

In a detached two-story house in the city of Yalova, ninety-four kilometers south of Istanbul on the Sea of Marmora, a fifty-two-year-old widow by the name of Hamide Boran is waging a valiant and lonely battle against Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) and diabetes. Should she ultimately lose that fight, it likely also is going to mean curtains for the sixty-five cats that live with her.

Even though her attending physician has advised her to get rid of them, that is something that she is totally unwilling to even so much as contemplate. "I sleep with my cats," she informed the Hürriyet Daily News on January 25th. (See "Kitty Kingdom: Woman in Northwest Turkey Keeps House with Dozens of Cats.")"I can starve, but my cats must have full stomachs."

As if her health woes were not enough of a burden for her to bear, she also is rather poor in that as a retired cleaning woman she is expected to scrimp by on a monthly pension of only three-hundred-fifty Turkish liras (US$93). Fortunately, her sons help her out with the rent as well as the food that both she and her cats require.

Six years ago, she lost her husband to a brain tumor and since then the cats have been pretty much her sole companions. Press reports have not disclosed how it was that she came to have so many of them, but it is known that she and her husband did care for at least one cat before he died.

"A cat was resting on his arm when he passed away," she told the Hürriyet Daily News."We couldn't get it to move."

She furthermore avers that the unidentified feline subsequently died after refusing to eat and drink anything for three months. Quite obviously, something has been lost in the translation from Turkish into English because a cat that refuses to at least drink can die within as short a time span as two days.

Even so, that is not any reason to doubt that the cat was indeed grievously affected by the man's death. For example, after seventy-one-year-old Renzo Iozzelli of Montagnana in the Italian province of Padova passed away on September 22, 2011 his three-year-old gray and white resident feline, Toldo, categorically refused to accept the fact that he was gone for good.

As a consequence, after following Iozzelli's coffin to the cemetery on the day of his burial he afterwards began visiting his caretaker's grave on a daily basis. In addition to standing vigil over it, he also on those occasions would bring along with him small tokens of his enduring affection, such as sticks, leaves, twigs, plastic cups, and paper towels.

"Mio marito era molto affettuoso con lui. Renzo amava gli animali," Iozzelli's widow, Ada, said at that time. "È quasi come se Toldo volesse essergli riconoscente. È un gatto speciale, non si può che volergli bene."(See Cat Defender post of March 28, 2013 entitled "Even the Finality of the Grave Fails to Diminish Toldo's Abiding Love and Affection for His Long Dead Guardian.")

In May of 2013, a ten-year-old tuxedo named Ian from Birmingham was found curled up beside the lifeless body of his unidentified guardian in a house on Knightwick Crescent. It never was disclosed how long that the pensioner had been dead or for what length of time that Ian had been forced to go without food and water.

Like Toldo, he too had refused to leave the side of his deceased owner. "The circumstances were very sad and it must have been awful for the cat," Sheila Pennell of Cats Protection said after Ian's rescue and eventual rehoming. "He was trapped indoors wondering why his owner wouldn't wake up, feed him or let him out."(See Cat Defender post of July 27, 2013 entitled "Instead of Killing Her Off with a Jab of Sodium Pentobarbital and Then Burning Her Corpse, Ian Remains Steadfast at His Guardian's Side Long after Her Death.")

In Boran's case, there seems to be little doubt that she cares deeply about her cats. "They are my sweethearts, my everything," she declared to the Hürriyet Daily News."I love them like my own children."

Even so, that is not necessarily the most important consideration. Rather, it is the health and well-being of the cats that should be paramount.

In particular, it often is difficult in cases of this sort to determine exactly where love leaves off and need takes over as the dominant motivation and that is especially the case with socially isolated and lonely individuals. As Paul McCartney so poignantly lamented in his composition,"Eleanor Rigby:"

"All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?"

Moreover, in those instances where need has been judged, correctly or incorrectly, to hold sway, individuals such as Boran have been accused of being hoarders and, sometimes, even arrested. (See Cat Defender posts of July 21, 2005, August 13, 2005, December 23, 2005, and March 29, 2007 entitled, respectively, "Northern Virginia Woman Caught Hoarding 575 Cats,""Virginia Woman Caught Hoarding 105 Cats; Montana Woman Discovered with 75 Cats and 14 Dogs,""Virginia Cat Hoarder Who Killed 221 Cats and Kept Another 354 in Abominable Conditions Gets Off with a $500 Fine," and "Famed Manhattan Cat Hoarder Marlene Kess Gets Off with a Fine and Community Service.")

Fortunately for her, officials in Turkey view matters of this sort rather differently than do their counterparts in the United States and as a consequence it does not appear that she is going to be subjected to any legal reprisals. That in no way alters the disturbing reality that she sorely lacks the prerequisite wherewithal in order to properly care for that many felines.

Specifically, she has publicly admitted that some of her charges are suffering from cancer whereas others are paralyzed and even some of them are blind. Whereas it undoubtedly would require a princely sum in order to alleviate the plight of those seriously ill felines, many more of them likely are afflicted with ailments that could be either warded off or remedied with a modest investment in the veterinary care that she, quite obviously, is unable to afford.

First of all, many if not all of them need to be sterilized so as to not only put an end to their uncontrolled breeding but also to forestall the birth of stillborn and sickly kittens. All of them additionally need to be vaccinated against at least the Feline Leukemia Virus (FeLV) and the Feline Immunodeficiency Virus (FIV).

Press reports have not delved into what she feeds them, but they need good-quality cat food and clean water as opposed to a steady diet of table scraps and rain water. Although Boran reportedly cleans up after them whenever they foul her neighbors' yards, a far more important consideration are the sanitary conditions that prevail inside her house.

If she is physically able and willing to blanket the premises with dozens of litter boxes that she religiously empties each day, she just might be able to maintain a satisfactory level of sanitation. Even in adopting such an expedient it would still be mandatory for her to thoroughly clean up after those cats that eliminate outside their boxes.

Any way that the situation is analyzed, caring for that many cats would be a herculean job for even a healthy individual with moola to burn. That in turn segues into the much more pressing dilemma of what is going to happen to them once she is no longer capable of taking care of them or, worst still, follows in the footsteps of Iozzelli and Ian's guardian.

On the one hand it seems a bit much to expect a sickly and impoverished woman to put the welfare of her cats above her own but that nevertheless is something that she needs to at least consider. That is especially the case in that it is highly unlikely that her sons are going to be willing to take care of them after she is gone.

Without knowing what, if any, animal protection charities exist in Yalova, it is difficult to say what The Fates have in store for them but it is at least even odds that are going to be cast out into the street in order to either sink or swim on their own. As the highly acclaimed film Kedi has made plain, thousands of them have been cruelly abandoned to roam the streets of Istanbul and the same deplorable situation likely exists in Yalova and throughout the remainder of Turkey.

Those cats that survive Boran therefore may be able to occasionally find sympathetic souls who will be willing to toss them scraps of fish from time to time but that would appear to be about the extent of the succor that they can expect from the public.

To their credit, the Turks do not round up and systematically murder every homeless cat that they get their hands on like their American counterparts. Nevertheless, their policy of benign neglect whereby they deprive them of safety, homes, veterinary care, and proper diets is almost as abhorrent.

The manner in which cats are mistreated in both Turkey and the United States is all the more shameful in that the solution to this problem is so simple. Most pressing of all, Americans need to fire their Animal Control officers and to shutter their feline extermination camps.

Secondly, both nations need to implement an across-the-board TNR policy whereby all homeless cats are sterilized and supplied with veterinary care, outside shelters, and food and water. Even in doing that much, TNR still has two major shortcomings.

First of all, those cats that belong to managed colonies need to be provided with around-the-clock security. The United States in particular is too chock-full of criminal ornithologists, wildlife biologists, and other low-life scumbags so as to leave cats unattended and unprotected. (See Cat Defender post of August 24, 2017 entitled "The Brutal Murders of a Trio of Atlantic City's Boardwalk Cats Provide an Occasion for the Local Rag and PETA to Whoop It Up and to Break Open the Champagne.")

Secondly, TNR never should be viewed as an end in itself. Rather, the caretakers of these colonies need to go the extra mile for their charges by securing permanent homes for them.

The game is afoot and those individuals and groups who care deeply about cats need to act with alacrity. That is due not only to the machinations of the species' sworn enemies but also because climate change is accelerating at a rapid pace and that in turn is imperiling the continued existence of such colonies.

Life is unquestionably the greatest of all gifts but even it requires a host of support systems and favorable circumstances that the Turkish people are totally unwilling to bestow upon their long suffering and hideously neglected cats. With that being the case, those that belong to Boran are, in all probability, living on borrowed time.

Photo: the Hürriyet Daily News.

Cats Make the Perfect Valentines

"Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell."
-- Joan Crawford

Valentine's Day has come and gone and, lamentably, many guys once again found themselves without anyone to buy chocolates and roses for or even for that matter to take out to a swanky restaurant for a sit-down meal. Instead, they were relegated to spending the entire day home alone staring at the four walls and pacing the floor.

Scarfing down warmed-up TV dinners and chug-a-lugging six-packs of Pabst Blue Ribbon® did not help much either to take the sting out of their empty and lonely existences. At the end of their seemingly endless days their only consolation was watching reruns of Bonanza, The Saint, and The Beverly Hillbillies on YouTube.

Every bit as deplorable, their unhappiness was in vain and could have been easily remedied if only they had known not to look to the tender gender for their deliverance but rather to their local animal shelter. There they surely would have found hundreds of adorable cats ready, willing, and able to have ventured into their unfinished lives and to gladly have made them complete.

"There is something about the presence of a cat...that seems to take the bite out of being alone," veterinarian Albert J. Camuti once observed.

For those who still require convincing, there are countless reasons why adopting a cat is a better option than waiting around for Miss Right to leisurely stroll into one's world and that which follows is an examination of just a few of them.

1.) Easier to Get in Bed.

Not wasting any time and immediately getting right down to the nitty-gritty, there can be little disputing that getting a cat in the sack is a far easier task to pull off than doing likewise with a woman. The payoff may not be in any way comparable but the getting is most assuredly a piece of cake.

In stark contrast to the situation with women, the problem with cats is not so much getting them in bed but rather getting them out of it. In particular, digging out each morning from underneath a blanket of five to ten slumbering felines can be quite a job and that is especially the case in that with they do not recognize such a thing as a final eviction notice.

Rather, they seem to believe that beds belong to them. "In my experience, cats and beds seem to be a natural combination," Camuti added.

Author Stephen L. Baker even has gone to the trouble of calculating just how many cats that an average size bed can accommodate. "Most beds sleep up to six cats," he has deduced. "Ten without the owner."

In that respect it is a good thing that geometry is not the species' strong suit otherwise an owner soon might find himself shivering all alone on the cold, hardwood flooring. Having a bed full of cats also furnishes a bloke with an apt rejoinder to all those loudmouths in the pubs who are all the time bragging about their numerous conquests.

Getting a Cat Out of Bed Is Not an Easy Task

In particular, such an owner can truthfully chime in by declaring that he too has a bed full of pussy every night. There is not any need for him to let on that his playmates are of the four-legged variety.

2.) Nothing to Fear from the Me Too Movement.

A man can smooch and goose a cat to his heart's content without the fear of provoking a blizzard of reprisals and condemnations from the Me Too Movement. Even the sneaking of a fast feel might not be totally out of the question.

A man likewise need not fear getting into the pickle that befell former President George Herbert Walker Bush. On the other hand, no sensible man ever would even so much as contemplate polluting the noble and pristine souls that cats possess with off-color jokes and dirty ditties.

3.) Health Benefits.

Substituting a cat for a woman as a bed partner furnishes a man with an opportunity to get a good night's rest as opposed to waking up knackered each morning as the result of having had to slug it out between the sheets with some insatiable woman all night long. There are, of course, some veterinarians who slanderously claim that cats are too dirty to sleep with but they quite obviously never have shared a pillow with some women. (See NBC-TV, January 25, 2011, "Out of the Sack, Cat! Sleeping with Pets Carries Disease Risk.")

Cats additionally teach men how to relax thereby reducing stress levels which in turn promotes cardiovascular health. (See U.S. News and World Report, February 21, 2008, "Cats Help Shield Owners from Heart Attack. Study Finds Thirty Per Cent Risk Reduction When Felines Are in the Home.")

4.) Good Listeners.

When it comes to having someone who is willing to listen to a man's troubles, cats simply cannot be beaten. They never interrupt, rudely commence gassing on their mobile telephones, or cleverly steer the conversation around to their own worries. (See moggies.co.uk, October 11, 2007, "Forget Therapists -- Pets Are the Listeners.")

5.) Excellent Providers.

When it comes to putting food on the table a woman is almost totally useless. For example, some of them are incapable of even possessing the savoir-faire to use a can opener. Others do not have so much as a clue as how to make cold water hot.

Even when they are supplied with enough Lebensmittel in order to feed an army, what they often end up preparing is inedible. At other times, it very well could be laced with poison so as to get an older man out of the way and thus to allow her to not only get her hands on his money but to run off with a young gallant.

A cat at least can be depended upon to occasionally bring home a dead mouse or two. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, some men douse the rodents with ketchup and try not to think about what they are eating.

For vegetarians, however, such an expedient is not an option. Instead, they are forced into acting out a ridiculous pantomime for their cats' benefit whereby they pretend to devour their unfortunate victims before discreetly burying them in the garden.

Most Beds Will Comfortably Sleep Six Cats but Only Two Big Fat Women

On this issue it is admittedly a close call but at the end of the day the vote has to go to cats. Sometimes it is the thought that counts.

6.) Security.

Owing to their truly remarkable sense of hearing, cats make excellent sentries. For instance, they are capable of detecting the presence of intruders on foot from as far away as a football field. They also are capable of hearing nails being torn loose from their moorings long before the pictures and photographs that they support coming crashing to the floor.

Even more impressive, countless individuals are alive today all because their cats detected gas leaks, fires, and the presence of burglars. (See Cat Defender posts of April 23, 2007 and October 31, 2007 entitled, respectively, "Winnie Saves an Indians Family of Three from Dying of Carbon Monoxide Poisoning" and "Bacon Shows His Appreciation and Love for His Rescuer by Awakening Her from a Burning Apartment.")

7.) Cleanliness.

When it comes to personal hygiene, it is no contest and cats win hands-down. "A cat is the only domestic animal I know who toilet trains itself and does a damned impressive job of it," author Joseph Epstein once marveled.

On the other hand, some women fanatically believe that soap and water are corrosives that will wear out their skins and they accordingly avoid them as if they were the plague. With such an attitude, it is not surprising that they are the repositories of contagious diseases, toxic chemicals, obnoxious smells, and all sorts of accumulated grime and dirt.

Before even permitting one of them indoors it often is necessary to strip them down in the backyard, douse them with soap, and then turn a garden hose on them. Following that there is the painstaking and time-consuming job of scraping off all sorts of paint, glue, caked-on mascara, abhorrent smelling perfumes, and who knows what other contaminants.

In severe cases, it sometimes is even necessary to rake them across a scrubboard a time or two in order to get at stubborn grime and grease. Next, it is off to the barn in order to borrow Old Paint's comb for the purpose of giving them a good currying from head to toe. Untangling their long, unkempt, and unwashed manes is not any walk in the park either given that some of them have a tendency to scratch like a cat and to kick like a mule.

Provided that a fellow has not keeled over from exhaustion by that time, he next must transport them to the health clinic in order to be vaccinated; the vets will not touch them with twenty-foot poles. After that it is back home and a trip to the smokehouse where, in some cases, it is necessary to hang them on a hook for thirty days in order to allow them cure properly and for any lingering bad smells to evaporate.

These precautions are necessary in order to, first of all, prevent the spread of diseases and germs. Adopting the expedient of Judge Roy Moore is not a valid alternative in that, if press reports are to be believed, some girls nowadays are considered to be old, worn-out, and diseased by the time that they reach the ripe old age of fourteen.

Secondly, a man likes to know what is underneath all of that paint and glue. In particular, it is imperative that he make sure in advance that he is getting one-hundred per cent woman without any undesirable subtractions and additions as those that come with hybrids that are on the market. Half-and-Half may be all right in the java but not in a woman.

A Cat Is the Epitome of Cleanliness

In that respect, the Me Too Movement has been sorely remiss for failing to include a proviso in its manifesto whereby concerned members of the opposite sex can satisfy their legitimate concerns in this area. Such an initiative would need to be carefully crafted, however, so as to prevent all sorts of rotters from exploiting such a loophole in order to stock up on a year's supply of finger pie in one swoop.

Finally, after a man has invested so much time, trouble, and expense cleaning, scrubbing, delousing, currying, manicuring, pedicuring, and inoculating a woman he surely would be entitled to enjoy the fruits of his labors. Unfortunately, that hardly ever turns out to be the case because as soon as he leaves her alone for a solitary minute she absconds with the pizza delivery boy.

Such a disastrous dénouement hardly seems fair but, on second thought, perhaps turning that garden hose on her was carrying cleanliness a bit too far. Still, when it comes to a women a man likes a clean body; a dirty mind is all right. The latter never has been known to send a bloke trotting off to the health clinic.

That is just one example of how the best laid plans of any man can go awry whenever they happen to include a woman. For instance, in this case one not only lost the woman but, even worse, the cats no longer have anyone to deliver their piping-hot pies! Women may be a dime a dozen but a good delivery boy is not quite so easy to replace.

Cleaning up and straightening out a woman accordingly requires a huge investment in time, energy, and money from which a man can only expect minimal, if any, dividends. It is far too arduous a job for most old goats to undertake and young bucks, who already have their pick of the litter, do not have any interest in taking on such reclamation projects. As a result, the majority of these women wind up at either the Old Spinsters' Society, the Lesbian League, or in even direr straits.

With a cat it is an entirely different matter in that even a down-at-the-heel denizen of the street can be taken in and successfully rehabilitated almost overnight and with very little effort and cost. Cats consequently are what the gurus on Wall Street would call low investment, high-yield stocks.

8.) No Need to Keep Up with the Joneses.

Keeping a cat is considerably easier on the wallet than having a woman. About all that it takes in order to satisfy the former are tuna, kibble, milk, and water whereas even expensive jewelry, exotic vacations, and a lavish lifestyle often are insufficient to keep the latter at home.

Consequently, with a cat a man does not have to worry about keeping pace with the Joneses. First of all, it is hardly unlikely that any cat ever has so much as heard of them. Secondly, even if the reverse should turn out to be true, no cats gives so much as a non Gradus Anus Rodentum about keeping up with them.

Moreover, just the simple act of getting rid of a woman and replacing her with a cat has been known to transform beleaguered, cash-strapped working stiffs into relaxed and tanned spectators of this world with pockets bulging with greenbacks. Perhaps most important of all, cats do not consider it to be either a federal offense or a sure sign of moral decay for a man to be a lazy bum who lies around the house all day sleeping.

9.) Wardrobe Expenses Are Negligible.

Absolutely no one has ever heard any self-respecting cat to complain about not having anything to wear. Au contraire, they gladly wear the same old seven and six year in and year out.

Watch Out for Those Pizza Toters; They Deliver More Than Pies for the Cats

On the other hand, some women would not be satisfied with owning a clothing factory. Compounding matters further, some men have been forced into adding entire wings to their houses just to have a place to store all the clothing and accessories that their wives never wear.

10.) Cats Are Real Homebodies.

As is the case with clothing, no one ever has heard a cat complain that its owner never takes it anywhere. Being true homebodies, they never want to go anywhere and that nips a man's transportation problems right in the bud.

By contrast, women have an annoying habit of dragging their male counterparts not only all over town but, sometimes, halfway around the world. Aside from the incredible expense involved in such excursions, all of that moving around is bound to sooner or later wear out a bloke.

11.)  Cats Provide as Much Heat as Two Big Fat Women.

At this juncture some men may be prompted to interject that they could not possibly make it through these long, cold winter nights without having one or two big fat women in order to prevent them from freezing to death. That certainly is a point well taken in that the invaluable contributions made by the beefy babes of this world can in no way be underestimated.

If events had turned out differently and all that there had been around at the dawning of time were those skinny young wigglers, jigglers, and gigglers of today, the human race surely never would have made it out of the starting gate. It therefore is not surprising that it is precisely at those times when the bottom has dropped out of the thermometer, there is a foot of snow on the ground, and the furnace has conked out that the Bertha Butts and Two-Ton Thelmas of this world shine the brightest.

Nestled up warm and snug between them, a man cannot possibly feel any pain. The situation is entirely different with those short-sighted fellows who foolishly attempt to make it through these hellish winters with only bags of bones for comfort.

Having readily acknowledged all of that, it nevertheless must be pointed out that a man can fare every bit as well by curling up each night with four to five well-fed cats. Doing so also spares him the expense, labor in the kitchen, and subsequent clean-up that goes hand-in-hand with the preparation of a large pots of soup beans, seasoned to the nine with ramps and jalapeno peppers, a mess or two of turnip greens, an half-acre of home fries, three or four cakes of corn dodger and, to wash it all down, a couple of liters of Ripple.®

Whereas a cat's rhythmic purring can be every bit as reassuring as it is soporific, Bertha's and Thelma's loud snoring, burping, belching, and backfiring all night can be a bit disconcerting. Plus, there is always the possibility that either one or both of them could pass out on top of him and suffocate him to death.

With cats, however, a man seldom has to put up with any unpleasant smells, sounds, and other intrusions into his repose. "Cats are rather delicate creatures and they are subject to a good many ailments, but I have never heard of one who suffered from insomnia," writer Joseph Wood Krutsch once declared.

Then there is the added expense if the girls ever should want to go anywhere, such as to (who knows why?) the beauty parlor, to be factored into the equation. In that regard, the most efficient way to accommodate women of that size would be to rent a hoist in order to take them out through the roof and on to the freight depot. There they in turn could be fastened onto a flat car and moved around as avoirdupois; it is cheaper that way as opposed to purchasing each of them three or four passenger seats.

A Man Should Not Always Behave Like a Tomcat, Especially Toward Women

By switching to cats, however, a man can could avoid all of that bother and expense while at the same time still make it through these long and cold winter nights in relative comfort.

12.) No Obnoxious Relatives and Disagreeable Entanglements.

The best thing about cats is, arguably, that they are real loners. For an owner, that translates into him being free to forget about putting up with any obnoxious relatives and friends, which just about all women attract in droves.

Cats also do not have any use whatsoever for religion, politics, and flag-waving and that is a truly beautiful character trait. Furthermore, they never will pollute a man's life by having the faintest bit of interest whatsoever in boring, sleazy, and corrupt athletics.

13.) No Bad Habits.

Cats do not drink, smoke, use drugs, or gamble and the same most assuredly cannot be said for the vast majority of women. They also seldom either snore or refuse to bathe.

14.) A Lack of Malice.

One of the most endearing character traits enjoyed by members of the species is their total lack of malice. For example, whenever little squabbles ensue, such as over who is entitled to the last wedge of cheesecake or who gets to sit in the rocking chair, they are soon patched up and forgotten with a loving pat on the head and the offer of a small treat.

"As anyone who has ever been around a cat for any length of time well knows cats have enormous patience with the limitations of the human kind," Cleveland Amory, author of the 1987 book The Cat Who Came for Christmas, once noted.

It is an entirely different matter with a woman. Every affront, whether real or imagined, is immediately seized upon as an annuity to be nurtured and safeguarded until a propitious time arrives when it can be dredged up, thrown in a man's face, and milked for all that it is worth.

15.) A Total Lack of Jealousy.

Since cats are not the jealous types a man can have as many of them as he so desires. At the same time it goes almost without saying that few women would be amendable to such a laissez-faire arrangement.

16.) Honesty Is a Cat's Strong Suit.

"A cat has absolute honesty," Ernest Hemingway once pointed out. "Humans beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not."

Differences between the sexes only serve to compound that problem. "Woman's heart and mind are insoluble puzzles to the male," Arthur Conan Doyle observed in his short-story, "The Adventure of the Illustrious Client."

What Man Could Ask for More?

17.) Cats Are Non-Judgmental.

So long as a man treats it well, a cat could care less about what the remainder of society thinks about him. Furthermore, it does not care on whit about the size of his house, the make and model of his old jalopy, and his social standing. He likewise could be a peripatetic hobo who is looked down upon by all of society and that would not matter to his cat.

18.) Heuristic Considerations.

"The intelligent, peace-loving, four-footed friends -- who are without prejudice, without hate, without greed -- may someday teach us something," celebrated novelist Lilian Jackson Brown once predicted.

Comedian and actor Bill Dana already has been the beneficiary of their tutelage. "I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult," he has acknowledged. "It's not. Mine had me trained in two days."

Gary Smith is another convert. "Everything I know I learned from my cat," he once candidly admitted. "When you're hungry, eat. When you're tired, nap in a sunbeam. When you go to the vet's, pee on your owner."

One of their chief contributions in this area is that since they live such terribly brief existences they instill in their caretakers an almost reverential respect for the present. C'est-à-dire, individuals should live for today, cherish the moment, and not leave important matters unfinished because tomorrow is not guaranteed to any man or cat.

All of that aside for the moment, a man should perhaps think twice about asking his resident tom to supply a few pointers on the ancient art of lovemaking. The problem is not that he would be unwilling to do so but rather that it would not be a good idea for any man to attempt to put into practice such advice.

For example, chasing a woman around the house in a prelude to pinning her to the floor with his teeth clinched around her neck and then porking her from behind is not a good idea. First of all, women do not appreciate such rough handling.

Secondly, jurists take a dim view of such behavior to the tune of about thirty years in the state penitentiary. Thirdly, if the Me Too Movement ever got wind of such goings on it would be howling from now until Judgment Day.

Also, hanging out until the small hours underneath the window of the source of one's affliction all the while crying piteously like a lovesick tomcat is not recommended. Although the woman in question might be flattered by such devotion, the neighbors are unlikely to feel quite as charitable.

What goes for them goes double for the local gendarmes. After all, they eagerly await their turns on the graveyard shift so that they can get in a full week's worth of kip on the public's dime and for that reason they are unlikely to take kindly to having their repose interrupted, especially by some fool of a man who thinks that he has been reincarnated as a tomcat.

Millions of Cats Are Waiting to Be Someone's Valentine

19.) Loyalty.

In a rapidly changing world, the fidelity of a cat is one of the few things in life that a man can count on through thick and thin. Unlike many women, a cat will not run off with the first man with money that comes strutting down the pike.

They care absolutely nothing about money and they never change. A man therefore does not have anything to fear on that score; a heaping helping of red salmon and bowl of thick cream could, however, be an entirely different matter.

Cats even remain loyal after death. (See Cat Defender posts of March 28, 2013 and July 27, 2013 entitled, respectively, "Even the Finality of the Grave Fails to Diminish Toldo's Abiding Love and Devotion for His Long Dead Guardian" and "Instead of Killing her Off with a Jab of Sodium Pentobarbital and Then Burning Her Corpse, Ian Remains Steadfast at His Guardian's Side Long after Her Death.")

Women, however, are more often than not relieved once a bloke is gone. As a result, a complete stranger is soon thereafter sleeping in the deceased's bed, guzzling his port, and gambling away his hard-earned cash.

Only his cat remains loyal and after a while even it realizes that he is not coming back and gives up the vigil. C'est la vie!

20.) Loving a Cat Means Not Having any Regrets.

The best reason of all as to why a cat makes a far better valentine than a woman is that a man can love it with his whole heart, unreservedly, and never with any regrets. No amount of time and money spent on a cat is therefore ever wasted.

As Thomas Hardy reminded the world in his 1976 novel, The Hand of Ethelberta,"a lover without indiscretion is no lover at all."

It was perhaps Charles Dickens, however, who best summed up the situation with his declaration: "What greater gift than the love of a cat?"

Loving a cat does come with one huge negative and that is their shortened life expectancies. Moreover, once it is gone there simply is not any conceivable way of closing the rent that its passing leaves in a man's heart.

Conclusion:

As it has been demonstrated, cats are clearly the better choice but that bit of gratuitous advice is bound to fall upon the deaf ears of those bucks who simply must have the services of a woman every night. Ergo, the tender gender has little to fear from feline competition in that they are destined to be what men continue to covet the most and pursue the most fervently.

A Cat's Love Is Eternal Like This 1909 Valentine

Furthermore, romantic love never has suffered from a lack of defenders. "The happiness of one man and one woman is the greatest thing in all the world," Hercule Poirot declared in Dame Agatha's 1920 novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles.

Rather, this essay is directed at those chaps who have gotten above a certain age and, whether it be attributable to either medical or fiscal constraints, are no longer able to handle those all-night, every night scrimmages between the sheets that all lusty lasses so adore. In that light, a cat also is the perfect companion for those who suffer from ED.

"Someone asked Sophocles, 'How do you feel about sex? Are you still able to have a woman?'" Plato related in Book I, 329B of The Republic."He replied, 'Hush, man; most gladly indeed am I rid of it all, as though I had escaped from a mad and savage master'."

For those unpersuaded blokes who still insist upon throwing caution to the wind and acquiring a wild and woolly woman, they need to fully realize that is a very reckless, not to say foolhardy, thing to attempt. "Love is a fire," actress Joan Crawford once declared. "But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell."

On top of that there is the nearly insurmountable obstacle of finding the right one. Also, there is little solace to be found in the old adage that "there are more than one fish in the sea."

“There's lots of good fish in the sea...maybe...but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring, and if you're not mackerel or herring yourself, you are likely to find very few good fish in the sea,” D. H. Lawrence astutely pointed out in his 1928 novel, Lady Chatterley's Lover. From that it thus would appear that a man's long-term happiness needs to be built upon surer ground than that afforded by a woman's transitory love.

All is not lost, however, in that there is some research that has shown that having a cat helps couples to stay together. "Research on cohabiting couples show (sic) conclusively that getting a cat is a better indicator of staying together than having a baby," Harry Benson of the Marriage Foundation of Cambridge told The Telegraph on February 15, 2013. (See "Couples Who Get a Kitten Before a Baby 'More Likely to Last'.")

Furthermore, it also is believed that having a cat is a good proving ground for men wanting to advance to getting a woman. For instance, caring for one accustoms him to, inter alia, taking orders, always speaking softly, and to being polite.

He additionally is able to learn from his feline companion a healthy toleration for a certain amount of unpredictable behavior, ill-timed interruptions, and stubbornness. Perhaps most importantly of all, he learns that in order to get the best out of a woman he must, as he does with his cat, spoil her rotten.

Even if all of his best laid plans and schemes should come to naught, his dutiful labors on behalf of the great god Eros will not necessarily have been completely in vain. "Happiness is a good woman...or a bad woman," is how that comedian George Burns once summed up that eternal dilemma.

Photos: The Philly Voice (gray cat), YouTube (two cats in bed, a cat grooming itself, and one sitting on a fence), The Creative Cat (six cats in bed) BuzzFeed (a cat eating pizza), Amazon (two cats inside a heart), Pinterest (a gray cat with a heart), and Chorboard of Wikipedia (1909 Valentine).

Disclaimer. No women were harmed during the researching and scratching out of this report although a few of them were discreetly observed, albeit at a safe distance to be sure. That exercise was undertaken not so much as an aid in the furtherance of knowledge but rather just to see what they were up to (nothing worthwhile) and for reasons of personal amusement.

Runa and Jordana Rebmann in Happier Days

"Die Wahrscheinlichkeit ist aber klein, dass der Fall aufgeklärt wird."
-- Bernhard Graser von die Kantonspolizei Aargau

Even under the very best of circumstances the wheels of justice grind agonizingly slowly. When it comes to cats that have been victimized by abusers, however, it is almost impossible for their owners and supporters to attract even the tiniest bit of attention from those who are charged with enforcing the anti-cruelty statutes and what was done to a beautiful three-year-old gray Norwegian Forest Cat-British Shorthair-mix named Runa from Oberrohrdorf, thirty kilometers north of Zurich, last November 17th is an infuriating example of such gross malfeasance and indifference.

On that date, she was abducted, savagely beaten to death, and then decapitated. Even that outrageous atrocity was not sufficient in order to assuage her killer's hatred; on the contrary, as soon as he had finished with Runa he immediately went after her owners as well.

He did so by transporting, most likely by foot, Runa's still warm and bleeding torso to Buacherstraße 6 where he dumped it in the garden of fifty-nine-year-old Jordana Rebmann. Her husband, Jörg, made the grisly discovery some time later when he ventured out of doors.

Brazen beyond belief, the killer returned to the Rebmanns'Grundstück a day later in order to deposit Runa's collar in the hedge. Given that the Halsband was the type that can only be removed by cutting it in two, the fact that it was still intact demonstrated that it either had fallen off or been removed after her head had been severed.

Press reports are not specific, but at about that same time a next-door neighbor of the Rebmanns also found Runa's name tag. It is far from clear but presumably it was located somewhere near the boundary line that separates the two residences.

The rather obvious conclusion to be drawn from those twin discoveries is that Runa's killer made at least two and possibly three trips to the Rebmanns' house. He quite obviously wanted to make them fully aware of not only what he had done to their cat but also that he knew their names and address as well.

In the aftermath of the killing, Frau Rebmann took Runa's remains to an unidentified veterinarian for a necropsy which revealed that she had sustained multiple injuries and internal bleeding before she was decapitated. What else, if anything, that the attending veterinarian learned from his examination of her remains has not been released to the public.

Rebmann also wasted no time in notifying the Kantonspolizei Aargau but that utterly worthless authority apparently did absolutely nothing beyond letting fly with a few perfunctory statements. For instance, it is highly doubtful that it even bothered to collect forensic evidence from Runa's fur, teeth, and claws.

It likewise is highly improbable that her collar and name tag were dusted for fingerprints. Furthermore, there is absolutely nothing in the public record to indicate that the Rebmanns' garden was treated as a crime scene and gone over thoroughly for blood, footprints, and other forensic evidence.

Longtime Gemeindeammann Kurt Scherer issued a statement condemning the killing but since then there has not been anything from him that would tend to indicate that either he or his fellow politicians have lifted so much as a lousy finger in order to bring Runa's killer to justice. Developments in this tragic case are difficult to follow from afar, but as best as it could be determined not a single animal protection group in the entire canton of Aargau has either opened an investigation into this matter or offered a reward for information that might lead to the apprehension of the perpetrator.

The Rebmanns and their two children accordingly have been abandoned by the authorities to their shock, grief, and unallayed fears. As a result, Frau Rebmann suffered a nervous breakdown at work shortly after Runa was killed and had to be driven home by a co-worker. Her children likewise have been left traumatized.

With the police and local animal protection groups in Aargua being the worthless and uncaring sods that they are everywhere else in this world, this story appeared to be at an end. Runa's killer never was going to be caught and the Rebmanns had been left to persevere as best they could under simply horrible circumstances.

The criminal investigation into Runa's killing, which never actually became open and active in the first place, now was permanently closed, filed away, and forgotten by the authorities. The holidays came and went and almost three months had been crossed off the calendar when, during either the first or second week of February, the long dead and all but forgotten case once again sprang to life in a totally unexpected and bizarre fashion.

Acting upon a tip, presumably anonymous, the Kantonspolizei Aargau returned unexpectedly to the Rebmanns'Grundstück where they, reportedly, found the murder weapon. The nature of the Tatwaffe, where it was found, and how that the Polizei determined that it was indeed the instrument that had been used in order to put an end to Runa's short life have not been publicly disclosed.

"Von weniger Tagen haben wir einen entscheidenden Hinweis erhalten und in der Folge die mutmassliche Tatwaffe sicherstellen können," was all that Bernhard Graser of the force was willing to divulge to the Aargauer Zeitung on February 15th. (See "Fall der geköpften Katze Runa: Polizei findet der Tatwaffe.")

Far from being an unqualified good, that startling development raises far more questions than it answers. First of all, if the Polizei had been willing to have done their due diligence they surely would have found the weapon at the outset. Secondly, how did its presence escape the attention of the Rebmanns and their next-door neighbors for so long?

Those considerations segue into the question of who it was that actually found the weapon and under what circumstances. It possibly could have been that a kid retrieving an errant ball had accidentally stumbled upon it but that somehow does not seem all that plausible under the circumstances.

The identity of the tipster also is problematic. In the United States, and presumably Switzerland as well, the police allow all incoming telephone calls to ring for a long time so that they can trace them. By the time that they finally do pick up they already know the location of the caller and whether he is using a landline or a mobile device.

Letters likewise can be traced via their postmarks, the type of stationery used, the sender's handwriting, fingerprints, and other forensic clues. It is not always possible to make an arrest based solely upon such meager data but they do provide officers with numerous leads to pursue.

Perhaps most perplexing of all, how did the Polizei determine that the weapon found either on or near the Rebmanns' property was the one that had been used in order to kill Runa? Since it presumably had been lying out in the cold, rain, snow, and ice for so many months, it is difficult to believe that it still could have had even trace amounts of blood and fur left on it that the Polizei could have used in order to have made a DNA comparison.

"If a body is left out in the sun and rain, its DNA will be useful for testing for only a few weeks,"Slate reported on February 5, 2013. (See "What's the Shelf-Life of DNA?")

While it is certainly possible that DNA found on steel and metal objects could be considerably more durable, especially if it had been shielded somewhat from the elements by, say, lying in a culvert, that constitutes only half of the equation. In order to be of any use to investigators, that DNA evidence still would need to be compared with DNA taken from Runa's remains and there is absolutely nothing in the public record to even suggest that any was taken by either the Polizei or the veterinarian who performed the necropsy.

Then there is the grisly issue of exactly how Runa was killed and how many weapons that her killer used in the commission of this heinous crime. First of all, the only sure way of corralling a cat is to trap it and that usually requires a cage.

Given that Runa was said to have been a very friendly cat, it is remotely conceivable that she knew her killer and unwittingly walked into his lair but that is considerably less likely. It goes almost without saying that it is almost impossible for a stranger to capture a cat with his bare hands.

The only other possibility that readily comes to mind is that she could have been killed by either a bullet or an arrow fired directly into her head and the decapitated afterwards. That possibility also could help to explain why that her killer did not return her severed head with her torso.

Jordana Rebmann at the Spot Where Runa's Torso Was Found

After the perpetrator had successfully lured Runa into a cage, he likely next took her into either his house or garage so that he could carry out his cleverly hatched plan in privacy and far removed from the prying eyes and ears of his neighbors. His next move likely involved opening her cage and then clubbing her over the head one or more times with either a hammer or some other blunt object.

Even in confined quarters a cat is still capable of putting up quite a spirited struggle and that possibly could account for the multiple external injuries and internal bleeding that Runa sustained. While fighting for her life, she also may have been able to have sunk her claws and teeth into her attacker and that is why it is simply unpardonable that DNA evidence was not collected from them.

It also is conceivable that he tortured her with pepper spray, pressurized hot water, or some other diabolical means while she was still caged as amateur ornithologist Ernst Bernhard K. of München did with Andreas O's cat, Rocco, in December of 2010. (See Cat Defender posts of January 19, 2011, August 8, 2011, and August 17, 2011 entitled, respectively, "A Bird Lover in München Illegally Traps Rocco and Then Methodically Tortures Him to Death with Water and Pepper Spray over an Eleven-Day Period,""Ernst K.'s Trial for Kidnapping, Torturing, and Murdering Rocco Nears Its Climax in a München Courtroom," and "Ernst K. Walks Away Smelling Like a Rose as Both the Prosecutor and Judge Turn His Trial for Killing Rocco into a Lovefest for a Sadistic Cat Killer.")

Such diabolical treatment could have been meted out to her for hours on end until she finally lost consciousness. Once she had lapsed into that state it would have been an easy matter for her killer to have removed her from the cage and then used a knife, ax, or power tool in order to have dismembered her.

It thus would appear that her assailant employed multiple weapons in order to snuff out her life. That in turn calls into question the significance of the Polizei's recent discovery.

Looking at this matter from an entirely different angle, it also is conceivable that the story put out by the Polizei is a red herring designed to blunt criticism of its disgraceful failure to have solved this troubling case months ago. A far likelier scenario is that the killer once again returned to the Rebmanns' property and planted a weapon,  but not necessarily the one that he had used in the commission of this crime.

If there should be any credence to that line of reasoning, the next shoe to drop very well could be the depositing of Runa's head in or near the Rebmanns' garden at some future date. In that respect, it is regrettable that they have publicly disclosed that they have installed an alarm system and surveillance cameras.

If the weapon that recently came to light had been planted on their property, hidden and unpublicized cameras might very well have captured an image of the culprit. The same scenario would have held true if the killer had attempted to return Runa's head without knowing of the existence of the newly installed cameras.

As for why that he would choose to behave in such a fashion, there are at least two plausible explanations. First of all, he undoubtedly wants to inflict as much pain and sorrow as it is humanly possible upon the Rebmanns and, above all, to instill a sense of fear in them.

Secondly, he is a very emboldened individual who fervently believes that he is operating beyond the reach of the law and, given the shameful conduct of the Polizei, he is richly entitled to his feelings of invincibility. It accordingly would not be the least bit surprising if he were not laughing off his evil ass at this very moment at both the Polizei and the Rebmanns.

From the very beginning, the Polizei has lamely attempted to shirk its responsibility to fully and thoroughly investigate this matter by ludicrously giving a fair amount of credence to the disingenuous theory that Runa could have been attacked by a wild animal and if this latest development has accomplished nothing else it finally has laid to rest that mindless and dishonest speculation. "Damit lagen wir richtig in der Annahme, dass der kopf mutwillig abfgetrennt wurde," Graser finally conceded to the Aargauer Zeitung."Die Katze wurde also nicht von einem Wildtier oder durch einen Unfall getötet."

Even this latest development has not proven to be sufficient in order to get the Polizei to take this matter seriously. "Unsere Hoffnung ist nun, über die sichergestellte, mutmassliche Tatwaffe weiterzukommen," Graser pledged to the Aargauer Zeitung.

As any halfway knowledgeable individual knows only too well, hope does not solve criminal cases; on the contrary, doing so requires a commitment to do so and significant expenditures of manpower and dollars. Since the Polizei is unwilling to do any of that, nothing has really changed as far as this investigation is concerned.

"Die Wahrscheinlichkeit ist aber klein, dass der Fall aufgeklärt wird," Graser acknowledged in his next breath of the Aargauer Zeitung."Wenn dann bei solch aussergewöhnlichen Delikten kein Motiv erkennbar ist, sind Rückschlüsse auf die Täterschaft umso schwieriger."

On that last point he is completely wrong. For instance, the individual who killed and mutilated Runa and then dumped her torso in her owners' garden quite obviously not only hates cats with a passion but their caretakers as well.

After having studied crimes of this sort for a good many years, the killer's modus operandi is easily recognizable as being that of a bird lover. Solving this case accordingly could have been as simple as identifying every ornithologist, both amateurs and professionals, who lives within easy walking distance of the Rebmanns' residence. (See Cat Defender post of December 8, 2017 entitled "The Abduction, Brutal Slaying, and Diabolical Mutilation of Runa Leaves Her Owner Devastated and Strikes Fear into the Hearts of All Cat Lovers Living in a Small Town in Switzerland.")

Graser additionally is guilty of ignoring the fact that a cat killer has been on the loose in Oberrohrdorf ever since 2014. For example, four cats belonging to twenty-eight-year-old Philomena Füglistaler mysteriously disappeared without so much as a trace between 2014 and late last year.

She also lived near the Rebmanns until last October when she wisely moved out of the neighborhood. (See Blick of Zurich, November 21, 2017, "'Wir haben keine ruhige Minute mehr!'")

That is simply too much of a coincidence to ignore. What appears to have happened is that once the killer had polished off her cats he immediately trained his sights on Runa.

He therefore can be expected to strike again and not only against any new cats that the Rebmanns may acquire but at those belonging to their neighbors as well. Just as it failed to protect Runa and Füglistaler's cats, the Kantonspolizei Aargau is on course to do likewise with all other feline residents of Oberrohrdorf.

In spite of all of that and the taunting that the Rebmanns have been subjected to, Graser stubbornly insists that cat owners do not have anything to worry about. "Bei allem Verständis für die Verunsicherung sehen wir keinen objektiven Grund, sich Sorgen zu machen," he testified to the Aargauer Zeitung.

He accordingly does not see any reason for owners to restrict the outdoor rambles of their cats. "Wer eine Katze hat, weiss, dass es kaum möglich ist, deren Gewohnheiten zu beeinflussen," he philosophized to the Aargauer Zeitung.

It is almost superfluous to point out, but that is simply asinine advice. With such a diabolical killer on the loose it would be nothing short of insane for any owner to allow a cat out of doors without supervision.

Much more pertinently, since this monster is suspected of having killed five cats, the actual number of his victims easily could be much higher. That is because some owners do not even bother to either search for or to report to the authorities whenever their cats go missing. On top of that, the toll that he has inflicted upon homeless cats, which few people care about, very well could be off the charts.

As far as Rebmann is concerned, she has yet to come to terms with what has been done to Runa and her family. "Wir haben schon viele Sachen gelesen, doch so etwas haben wir noch nie gehört, geschweige denn erlebt," she admitted to the Aargauer Zeitung.

Even more shockingly, she is still unwilling to even so much as to entertain the notion that Runa's killer was one of her seemingly respectable bourgeois neighbors. "Wir wohnen seit vielen Jahren in Oberrohrdorf und pflegen ein gutes Verhältnis zur Nachbarschaft," she repeated for the umpteenth time to the Aargauer Zeitung.

Philomena Füglistaler with Photographs of Her Four Missing Cats

Not surprisingly, she does not have the stomach to see this matter through to the finish but, im Gegenteil, she wants to put it all behind her as quickly as possible and to get on with her life. "Wir müssen das Ereignis abhaken," she declared to the Aargauer Zeitung.

In doing so, she already has dismissed Runa's coldblooded and calculated murder as a random act committed by a crazy man. "Wir reden uns ein, dass Runa von einem kranken Menschen enthauptet wurde," she told the Aargauer Zeitung.

In all fairness to her, there can be no denying that the last few months have taken the will to fight right out of her. "Wir konnten gar nicht richtig um Runa trauern," she acknowledged to the Aargauer Zeitung."Das Drumherum hat uns zu sehr beschäftigt."

Nevertheless, it would appear that she is attempting to do the impossible. On the one hand, there is not any conceivable way that she and her family ever can have any closure unless Runa's killer is identified and brought to justice.

On the other hand, she is totally unwilling to embark upon a course of action that will culminate in achieving that worthy objective. In the meantime, she is placing both herself and her family in danger and that goes doubly for any new cats that she may bring into her home.

At the very least, she ought to consider the deleterious effect that leaving this matter unresolved is having on her children. "Sie (Kinder) können weniger gut mit dem Geschehenen umgehen," she acknowledged to the Aargauer Zeitung."Ihr Vertrauen in die Menschen ist nun ein Stück weit geschwunden."

Whereas it certainly is true that nothing will ever bring back Runa, apprehending and punishing her killer would at least allow her children to believe that there is some, but not much, justice to be found in this wicked old world. Doing so also could serve to teach them that it is not always possible to turn the other cheek.

"Remember that now you can have confidence in yourself always," Hercule Poirot counseled Norma Restarik in Dame Agatha's 1966 novel, The Third Girl."To have known, at close quarters, what absolute evil means is to be armored against what life can do to you."

Even if Rebmann should have a change of heart and decide to see this matter through, the road ahead is going to be quite difficult owing to the fact that the trail has gone cold and most of the evidence vanished long ago. Moreover, she cannot expect any worthwhile assistance from either the Kantonspolizei Aargau or local politicians.

The situation is not completely hopeless, however, in that at least two possibly fruitful avenues of inquiry remain open to her. The most promising of which would be for her to hire a private dick and since she is employed as a mechanical engineer she undoubtedly makes good money and therefore should be able to easily afford such a worthwhile expenditure.

The first order of business for any shamus that she might retain would be to locate and interview Füglistaler and, since Blick did not have any trouble in locating her, neither should he. Specifically, he should find out from her exactly where she used to reside and the facts and circumstances surrounding the disappearance of her four cats. She also undoubtedly has her own suspicions and insights which she surely would be more than willing to share with him.

From the information supplied by her, the gumshoe should be able to map out a search area. Following that, he should endeavor to identify and thoroughly investigate all individuals living within that area.

If possible, all cat owners should be identified and interviewed because they, if anyone, would be likely to know the identities of all cat-haters in the area. Above all, gardens should be peered into for the presence of bird houses and feeders.

If nothing worthwhile is learned from these exercises, the search area would need to be expanded. With only four-thousand residents, Oberrohrdorf is a small city that makes if feasible, if necessary, to place the entire town under scrutiny.

Secondly, if Rebmann should perhaps still be in possession of some of Runa's bedding or, considerably less likely, the Polizei still has her remains on ice, it might be worthwhile to put a bloodhound on her scent and to walk it around the neighborhood. Given the amount of time that has ticked off the clock, that would be a real long shot unless a suspect could be identified ahead of time and still be in possession of either Runa's head or had failed to thoroughly remove all of her blood from his premises.

Thirdly, Rebmann might want to consider retaining the services of a cat expert and to have that individual deploy an undercover cat in the neighborhood. The cat would need to be equipped with some type of miniature tracking device that could be hidden either underneath its collar or in its name tag and its handlers could not afford under any circumstances to allow it out of their sight.

This would be a time-consuming, painstaking, and very expensive undertaking. Nevertheless, it is possible that after a while the cat might lead investigators to the residence of Runa's killer.

Although she was killed during the overnight hours, it is suspected that it was Runa's daytime activities that led to her demise. This exercise accordingly would need to be only tried during the daytime.

The first objective of this exercise would be to identify a likely suspect and that could be accomplished by monitoring homeowners for violent verbal and physical reactions
to the cat whenever it ventured onto their properties. Secondly, the next step would be to place that individual under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Thirdly, it would be necessary to either force this individual into exposing himself or to skillfully trap him in some type of sting operation.

Operations of this kind have been successfully conducted in the past. For example, in early 2006 Brooklyn district attorney Charles Hynes employed a cat named Fred in order to trap and arrest Stephen Vassall who at that time was practicing veterinary medicine without a license. (See Cat Defender posts of February 14, 2006 and August 17, 2006 entitled, respectively, "Special Agent Fred the Cat Goes Undercover in Order to Help Nab a Quack Vet in a Brooklyn Sting Operation" and "Brave Little Fred the Undercover Cat Has His Short, Tragic Life Snuffed Out by a Hit-and-Run Driver in Queens.")

If such a ploy should be tried in Oberrohrdorf, it is paramount that the safety of the undercover cat take precedence over making an arrest. The very last thing that is needed in this case is another dead cat! In fact, a robotic one might suffice just as well as a real-life one.

Besides being revolting, what was done to Runa was heartbreaking. It also is disquieting that the Rebmanns have been left hung out to dry by the authorities.

As horrible as all of that is, it is not all that materially different from how shabbily cats and their owners are treated everywhere by both despisers of the species and the authorities. The message thus is clear: owners and those who care about cats must help themselves.

Was noch schlimmer ist, crimes against cats are increasing exponentially and in severity all over the world. A large part of that increase is attributable to the frustrations of ornithologists and wildlife biologist over their inability to convince the public to support their clarion call to kill all cats.

As they have become more and more frustrated in their evil designs, their crimes against cats not only have become more graphic but they simultaneously have embarked upon a campaign of fear and intimidation directed at their owners and supporters. It accordingly is not going to very long before they commence actually attacking their persons and property.

Hiding one's head in the sand, turning the other cheek, and making outrageous compromises, such as selling down the river homeless cats, is not the solution. Supporters of the species desperately need to make a stand and that includes at the very least insisting upon their right to equality under the law and that the anti-cruelty statutes be religiously enforced.

Photos: Carla Stumpfli of the Aargauer Zeitung (Runa with Rebmann and Rebmann in her garden) and Ralph Dongli of Blick (Füglistaler).

Harvey Has Had Five Homes Within the Past Fifteen Months

"He is one of a kind and utterly lovely. He is just quite specific about his demands -- no other pets, no noisy kids, all attention and love on him. That's not a bad deal, is it?"
-- Yorkshire Cat Rescue

As far as it is known, no cat possesses the power to divine the future. With that being the case, even having the good fortune to have entered this world in perfect health, a happy kittenhood, and a good life as a mature adult cat are not preventatives against the vicissitudes of old age.

In particular, the infirmities that accompany growing old are themselves difficult enough for any cat to deal with but for one to suddenly find itself uprooted from its home and abandoned to either the streets or unjustly incarcerated at some hellhole shelter is, quite often, entirely too much for it to overcome at such a late stage in its life. About the only thing positive that can be said about such tragic dénouements is that they are still preferable to being whacked by unscrupulous veterinarians at the behest of their perfidious owners.

Although he was only concerned with man's lot, Sophocles knew that in order to have had a good life an individual had to be not only happy throughout his days but also to drag his happiness down into the crypt with him. He makes that clear in the concluding lines of Oedipus Rex where he argues as follows:

"Let every man in mankind's frailty
consider the last day; and let none
Presume on his good fortune until he find
Life, at his death, a memory without pain."

So, too, is it doubtlessly the case with cats and at an undisclosed location in, presumably, West Yorkshire, a fourteen-year-old brown, gray, and white tom named Harvey is currently struggling to come to grips with that eternal dilemma. Although practically nothing has been publicly disclosed about his first twelve years upon this earth, his fortunes took a downward tumble in December of 2016 when his guardian died.

As a result, he was unceremoniously dumped at Yorkshire Cat Rescue (YCR) in Keighley and that was destined to be only the first of four lengthy stays for him at that facility over the course of the following fifteen months. His first incarceration was, mercifully, a brief one in that the charity was able to place him in a new home shortly after his arrival.

Unfortunately, he did not hit it off with his owners' other resident feline and they quickly threw in the towel on him and returned him to YCR. The next time around he was adopted by an unidentified woman in Leeds, thirty-three kilometers southeast of Keighley, but she soon thereafter allegedly became ill and likewise dumped him back into YCR's lap.

So, within a period of less than six months he had been bandied about between no fewer than three homes on top of three separate stays at YCR. "But he really is completely lovely -- just so desperately unlucky," is how that the charity's Sam Davies summed up his cruel fate.

Despite those devastating setbacks, the shelter to its credit vowed not to give up on him. "This poor lad has spent the summer with us, and still no luck in finding him a home," its Sara Atkinson lamented last year. (See Cat Defender post of August 31, 2017 entitled "With His Previous Owner Long Dead and Nobody Seemingly Willing to Give Him a Second Chance at Life, Old and Ailing Harvey Has Been Sentenced to Rot at a Shelter in Yorkshire.")

The long hot summer dragged into a chilly autumn and Harvey still found himself firmly encased behind bars at YCR. In fact, it was not until early November that he was given a new lease on life and even that positive break did not materialize until after the charity had come up with a novel and experimental stratagem in order to get him into another home.

"As you know Harvey has been with us for quite some time but he has now found a loving permanent fosterer and it looks like he has decided to stay there and let her look after him and his wonkiness," YCR announced November 7th on its Facebook page.

Under that unusual arrangement, YCR took it upon itself to foot the bill for his food and veterinary care with the fosterer providing only a place for him to live and, supposedly, pledging to take good care of him. It nevertheless is unclear who actually had legal custody of him and, much more importantly, which party would have been liable if he had been abused or mistreated in any fashion.

The positive aspect of such arrangements is that they do get cats like Harvey out of cages at shelters and into homes. On the negative side of the equation, fosterers are not required to make any moral, legal, or financial commitments to those that they bring into their lives and they accordingly are free to return them to YCR at any time.

The situation is analogous to the adoption fees that shelters charge. One theory maintains that there is a causal link between the size of those fees and the sincerity of the adopter. For instance, the higher the fee, the greater the degree of commitment.

Another theory holds that lowering them actually saves lives by making it possible to place more cats in homes. It is difficult to know which theory is closest to the truth owing to, inter alia, the paucity of research conducted on this subject and the multitude of variables and value judgments that would need to be sorted out before any firm conclusions could be reached.

In Harvey's case, however, YCR's experiment turned out to have been an unmitigated disaster. "I then had the most amazing foster mum but I of course had to be trouble and make sure she knew that I do not share my human with other pets," the charity, speaking on behalf of him, announced February 10th on Facebook. "So I am back here looking for a new home!"

There are at least four things that can be said about that debacle. First of all, any woman who would give up on an elderly cat after only three months was not a fit guardian for him in the first place.

Secondly, YCR once again dropped the ball by placing Harvey in such an untenable situation. Thirdly, it needs to seriously rethink this entire business of placing him with so-called permanent fosterers or, at the very least, to be forthright enough to call them what they really are and that is nothing more than short-term guardians who do not have any firm commitments to the Harveys of this world.

Fourthly, it is not only outrageous but totally unforgivable that YCR has fobbed off all the blame for the failure of this half-baked expedient onto the tiny shoulders of Harvey. Au contraire, it is the charity and the fosterer who have failed him and not vice-versa.

For its part, YCR is culpable for failing to realize that all cats are individuals with different personalities, histories, and experiences in life. C'est-à-dire, one size does not fit all.

Most egregious of all, it does not have any earthly way of knowing what types and amounts of verbal and physical abuse that he may have been subjected to at the hands of the fosterer and her other pets. After all, the woman is free to badmouth him until the cows come home but he is unable to speak up for himself.

Based upon the deleterious effect that his latest foray into the adoption thicket has had upon his health, the miseries, torments, and possible abuse that he may have suffered were anything but insubstantial. "When I came back here I was all shouty and confused," YCR stated for him February 10th on Facebook. "I was a bit all over the place and not at all the cuddly Harvey they remembered from all those months ago."

In its defense, YCR insists that Harvey is suffering from a benign brain tumor and that is what is causing his agitation, wobbly gait, and forgetfulness. Yet at the same time it insists that its veterinarians cannot find any presence of such a growth.

Harvey Desperately Needs a Home Before Time Runs Out on Him

Given that there are various diagnostic tests which are fairly accurate in detecting such growths, YCR should not be allowed to have it both ways. If Harvey does have a tumor, it needs to be closely monitored and, if conditions so merit, treated and possibly even removed.

If that is not the case, the charity should stop blaming his health for its own incompetence. In that light, it certainly is odd that he was said to have been in excellent health when he first arrived at the shelter and it was not until after he had returned from YCR's first failed attempt to adopt him out that a noticeable decline in it was detected.

It accordingly very well could be the case that the changes in both his personality and physical health could be at least in part attributable to his being bandied about like a Flying Dutchman between the shelter and various homes. If, on the other hand, the right home environment could be secured for him both his mental and physical health might very well improve almost overnight.

It is almost superfluous to point out, but the absolute last thing on earth that this fourteen-year-old cat needs and deserves is additional time in either a cage or foster care. "...I can get a bit confused, lost and agitated," YCR said for him February 10th on Facebook. "...I wondered why every cat else was finding it easier here (at the shelter) than me!"

Because of his advanced years and health concerns, YCR next issued a call to find him a home with a guardian who would be willing to overlook his forgetfulness and personality quirks. If one could be found with an enclosed garden that would be all the better considering his love for the great outdoors.

"As you know Harvey is back with us and we are struggling to find him a suitable home due to him being an old boy with...hmmm...lots of character," it stated February 16th on Facebook. "Everyone at the centre love him dearly but this is not the best place for a wobbly oldie who does not like other cats."

It then went on to elaborate on just how difficult a job that it had on its hands. "Yes, he is demanding. Yes, he is on the older side. Yes, he is loud. Yes, he is wonky. But he is also a charmer. A cuddler," it added. "He is one of a kind and utterly lovely. He is just quite specific about his demands -- no other pets, no noisy kids, all attention and love on him. That's not a bad deal, is it?"

On the contrary, Harvey would make a simply fantastic addition to some lucky individual's life. Above all, that person could love him completely and without reservations knowing that those sentiments were fully reciprocated.

It did not take long for that plaintive appeal to bear fruit but whether it is of the edible or the poisonous variety remains to be determined. "We are so happy to say that he has found a permanent fosterer and a retirement home," a much relieved YCR proudly announced February 26th on Facebook.

Although the charity is deserving of the highest praise possible for standing by Harvey, its decision to once again pay someone to take him in on a temporary basis is extremely troubling. That is especially the case given that it has omitted any mention whatsoever of whether or not the fosterer meets all of the requirements that it outlined on February 16th.

Even more outrageously, it once again has placed the onus of making this arrangement work upon Harvey. "All he has to do now is play nice and make sure this stays his forever home!" it cautioned February 26th on Facebook.

That certainly does not sound like it is expecting this arrangement to work out. Whereas the charity's position is completely understandable given that being behind bars is having a debilitating effect upon his health, bandying him about from home to home under who knows what conditions is not good for him either. In fact, the stress could very well eventually kill him.

The most logical solution from the outset would have been for a staffer at YCR to have adopted him but since that has not occurred it is most likely attributable to all of them already caring for multiple felines. Much like the Epicurean gods who were said to have resided in the intermundia, Harvey thus seems to be beyond the help of all but a few genuine cat-lovers and that in turn has whittled down the pool of potential adopters to those that have little or no experience in caring for cats in general and especially those with his pressing needs.

Although the organization has not commented one way or the other on this subject, Harvey's disdain for other cats is most likely attributable to his either being weaned too early or the product of his having spent his entire adult life with a one-cat guardian. In some instances, issues of this type can be resolved over time with work, patience, and a certain amount of savoir-faire but owing to his age, personality, and background that may not be feasible in this instance. Besides, he has been put through enough experimentation already and it would not be conducive to his well-being to subject him to any more stress and turmoil.

That does not appear to leave YCR with all that many alternatives but the most promising of which would be to attempt to place him with an elderly woman who recently had lost a cat. The difficulty with that would be to first identify such individuals and then to convince one of them to take on the care of Harvey. That is admittedly a long shot but it may be his only hope.

If it has not done so already, YCR ought to at least consider broadening its appeal beyond West Yorkshire. Advertising is sans doute an expensive proposition but both England and Scotland are chock-full of cat-lovers and there is at least some small measure of hope that such an appeal might very well produce positive results.

Every individual and organization involved in this process has failed Harvey to one extent or the other. First of all, his late guardian neglected to make any provisions for his continued care and that person's survivors likewise wanted no part of him and could have cared less what became of him.

Secondly, the three caretakers who subsequently invited him into their homes quickly gave up on him and thereby established beyond a doubt their unworthiness to be cat owners. Thirdly, the charity has put him through pure hell by subjecting him to three badly botched adoptions while during the interims sentencing him to languish in a cage for months on end.

Seemingly unwilling to have profited from its past mistakes, it now has fobbed him off on another suspect guardian with, from all outward appearances, little hope of success. It is, however, the charity's maligning of Harvey and blaming him for its own mistakes that galls the most. With this world being so jam-packed with despisers of the species, cats such as Harvey certainly do not need and deserve to be publicly excoriated and maliciously libeled by an organization that claims to be in their corner.

As any halfway sensible individual can easily comprehend, Harvey is the victim not the victimizer that YCR would have the naîve to believe. Furthermore, denigrating cats who have suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune is so repulsive and outrageous that it is deserving of being proscribed by law.

As troubling as some of YCR's comments and actions have been the sad truth of the matter is that it is all that is standing between him and a date with the hangman. Even so its patience and resources are not limitless and that makes it imperative that some conscientious member of the public comes forward soon and offers him a permanent and loving home.

Plus, time is fast running out on him and it is questionable just how much more of this senseless bandying about that he is capable of withstanding. Fiddling around as Nero was said to have done while Rome burned is not an option in his case.

To have put any cat through what Harvey has been subjected to over the course of the past fifteen months is totally unacceptable and it accordingly is high time that YCR found him a permanent home. Most importantly of all, it never must be forgotten that he is not asking for anything more than what he so richly deserves.

Photos: Facebook.

Luke and Melanie Gottschalk

"Diese Tiere sind in der Regel schwer vermittelbar, weil etwa Familien mit Kindern näturlich ein kleine und süße Katze wollen."
-- Melanie Gottschalk

When it comes to cats, few issues are quite as heart-wrenching as that of those that have grown not only old but, through no fault of their own, also homeless. That is by no means a new problem in that it has plagued the species ever since time immemorial.

Now, a young technical designer named Melanie Gottschalk from the Kilianstädten section of Schöneck, twenty kilometers north of Frankfurt am Main in the state of Hesse, believes that she has found at least a partial solution to that age-old dilemma by placing them in the homes of pensioners. Being a lifelong fan of the species, she operates a private rescue operation out of her house for cats of all ages but it is the elderly ones that are her specialty.

Her rescue efforts begin with a perusal of the lost, found, and for sale notices on the Internet. "Ich kann inzwischen gut unterscheiden, welche Anzeige von einem Tierschutzverein ins Netz gestellt wurde oder ob ein Verkäufer Geld mit der Katze machen will," she disclosed to the Frankfurter Neue Presse on September 4, 2014. (See "Wenn alte Katzen obdachlos werden.")"Und dann gibt es die für mich interessanten Anzeigen, wo Menschen Tiere schnell loswerden wollen -- aus den unterschiedlichsten Gründen."

She then contacts the advertisers while simultaneously interceding with local veterinarians and other rescuers by email on behalf of those cats. Some of those that she is able to gain custody of are placed fairly soon in new homes but the remainder she takes in herself and fosters until good homes can be secured for them.

At one point in 2014, she was caring for a Maine Coon named Luke, a tom named Baghera, a female named Lilly, and a pregnant cat named Emmi that had been rescued from floodwaters in Nidda, forty kilometers northeast of Frankfurt am Main. "Bekante haben das Tier gefunden und mich informiert," she related to the Frankfurter Neue Presse."Da konnte ich nicht Nein sagen und seither lebt Emmi bei uns (she and her boyfriend)."

Generally speaking, however, she has had remarkable success in finding new homes for those cats that she has rescued. "In der Regel dauert es nicht lange, bis ein neues Zuhause für die Tiere gefunden ist," she told the Frankfurter Neue Presse.

With old cats, however, she has run up against the same old Stolperstein  that has stymied traditional shelers for so long."Diese Tiere sind in der Regel schwer vermittelbar, weil etwa Familien mit Kindern näturlich ein kleine und süße Katze wollen," she lamented to the Frankfurter Neue Presse.

As it often has been pointed out, necessity is the mother of invention and it was out of those frustrations that Gottschalt eventually hit upon the idea of placing old cats with pensioners. The arrangement works out well for senior citizens given that older cats are quieter and less demanding than either kittens or those that are in the primes of their lives.

As for the cats themselves, Gottschalk argues that such arrangements assure them of permanent homes for the remainder of their days. The rather obvious flaw in her reasoning is that old men and women also get sick and die and that in turn translates into their new arrivals being left homeless once again.

Just how big of a problems that is with the cats that she places with seniors, only she knows. Nevertheless, she presumably is willing to compensate for that drawback by retaking custody of those cats that find themselves displaced for a second time.

Since she does not limit her feline outreach efforts to Kilianstädten and Nidda, she was able to place a twelve-year-old Maine Coon from Mainz, sixty-six kilometers south of Kilianstädten in Rhineland-Pfalz, with a seventy-year-old woman in Hanauer Stadtteil Klein-Auheim, twenty-two kilometers south of Kilianstädten, whose dog had recently died. "Das war genau das richtige Tier für die Seniorin," she told the Frankfurter Neue Presse."Die alte Dame ist super happy mit ihrem neuen tierischen Freund."

In order to facilitate such successful adoptions, she must first overcome two daunting obstacles. The first of which is to identify those senior citizens who might be willing to take on the care of an elderly cat. Secondly, those individuals then must somehow be prevailed upon to adopt.

As far as the first problem is concerned, Gottschalk has been able to circumvent it by relying upon an eclectic mix of email, word of mouth, and fliers that she distributes to merchants in and around Schöneck. Although surmounting the second dilemma surely would tax the oratorical skills of even the most seasoned carnival barker, since she has been able to convince at least one dog owner to adopt a cat she must be pretty good at that difficult chore.

Even though her results so far has been only meager, she is demonstrating that the correct strategy coupled with hard work can produce amazing results. The true secret of her success does not lie in strategy, however, but rather in an altogether different ingredient that is so sorely lacking in traditional rescuers and shelters.

"Ich mache das aus Liebe zu den Tieren und verlange auch kein Geld dafur," she summed up for the Frankfurter Neue Presse.

It goes almost without saying that her initiative is direly needed given that the options available for elderly and homeless cats are meager indeed. Just as an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, the best of all possible solutions would be for their guardians to make provisions for their continued care in their wills.

That is what Ellen Frey-Wouters of the Bronx did for her two companions, Troy and Tiger, before she kicked the bucket in 2015. Specifically, she left behind US$300,000 for their continued care. (See the New York Post, August 21, 2017, "Bronx Widow Leaves $300,000 Fortune to Her Cats," and the Daily Mail, August 24, 2017, "Here, Kitty, Kitty! New York Woman Leaves $300,000 to Her Cats in Her Will with the Request They 'Never Be Caged'.")

Although the transition from one home and one guardian to another home and a new caretaker is not an easy adjustment for an elderly cat to make, it is still preferable than for it to wind up totally on its own. If that should not be feasible, the second best option would be for owners to prevail upon close family members to take over the care of their cats after they are gone.

That is precisely what Beverley Hume of Newcastle upon Tyne did after both of her parents died and left behind their elderly cat, Ginger. Sadly, even her compassion proved to be insufficient in order to safeguard the life of the twenty-five-year-old male from the machinations of those individuals and institutions who fervently believe that old cats should not be allowed to draw so much as one more breath under any circumstances. (See Cat Defender post of January 11, 2012 entitled "A Deadly Intrigue Concocted by a Thief, a Shelter, and a Veterinary Chain Costs Ginger the Continued Enjoyment of His Golden Years.")

Even more reprehensibly, the simply abhorrent attitude that veterinarians and shelters have toward elderly cats is shared by the overwhelming majority of owners who do not hesitate to have them killed off as soon as their care becomes either expensive or inconvenient. Despite its popularity, murdering elderly cats never should be an option for either individuals or institutions.

Even those cats that are lucky enough to outlive their guardians are left with very few options. For example,  just about all of those that are dumped at shelters are immediately liquidated shortly after their arrival.

That is because just about all of those wretched institutions are anything but animal shelters; rather, they are thinly disguised feline extermination camps. Secondly, even if staffers were willing to attempt to find homes for them the general public, as Gottschalk has pointed out, has little or no interest in adopting old cats.

Even those extremely rare organizations that have an abiding respect for the sanctity of all feline life, such as Yorkshire Cat Rescue (YCR) in Keighley, West Yorkshire, have a devil of a time finding homes for their senior citizens. For instance, YCR is currently on its fourth attempt to locate a permanent home for a fourteen-year-old tom named Harvey. (See Cat Defender posts of August 31, 2017 and March 12, 2018 entitled, respectively, "With His Previous Owner Long Dead and Nobody Seemingly Willing to Give Him a Second Chance at Life, Old and Ailing Harvey Has Been Sentenced to Rot at a Shelter in Yorkshire" and "Much Like a Nightmare that Stubbornly Refuses to End, Harvey Continues to Be Shuttled from One Home to Another at the Expense of His Health and Well-Being.")

Not all of its efforts have been in vain, however,  in that it has successfully placed a fifteen-year-old ginger and white tom named Frank in a new home. (See Cat Defender post of September 5, 2017 entitled "Written Off More Than Once as Being All but Finished, Frank Is Living Proof That Old Cats Not Only Have Value but Considerably More Life Left in Them Than Most People Are Willing to Acknowledge.")

Elsewhere, it even took Cats Protection three tries in order to secure a permanent home for a ten-year-old tuxedo named Ian from Birmingham after his guardian had died without making any plans for his continued care. (See Cat Defender post of July 27, 2013 entitled "Instead of Killing Her Off with a Jab of Sodium Pentobarbital and Then Burning Her Corpse, Ian Remains Steadfast at His Guardian's Side Long after Her Death.")

Harvey, Frank, and Ian are exceptions to the rule in that the overwhelming majority of old cats never make it out of shelters alive. For that reason alone, shelters never should be an option for them or, for that matter, any cat no matter what its age and circumstances.

The second most likely destination for cats that have outlived their owners is the street as George, Pops, Orakal, and so many others have have discovered to their distress and horror. (See Cat Defender posts of March 23, 2015, August 6, 2015, September 15, 2015, and May 4, 2017 entitled, respectively, "Old, Sickly, and on the Street, George Accidentally Wanders into a Pet Store and That, in All Likelihood, Saved His Life,""Elderly, Frail, and on Death Row, Lovely Pops Desperately Needs a New Home Before Time Finally Runs Out on Her,""Pops Finally Secures a Permanent Home but Pressing Concerns about Both Her Continued Care and Right to Live Remain Unaddressed," and "Seventeen-Year-Old, Sickly, and Blind Orakel Is Abandoned to Fend for Herself in the Unforgiving Streets of Breitenfurt bei Wien.")

Although most any existence, no matter how harsh, is still preferable to unjustly robbing these cats of their inalienable right to live, there cannot be any disputing that dumping elderly cats in the street constitutes the very epitome of cruelty and that is especially the case with those that have lost their eyesight and mobility. In most instances, the absolute very best that they can expect from a cutthroat and uncaring world is to be offered shelter by kindhearted, private individuals who respect their right to live.

Private sanctuaries are a third option but they are few in number and usually operate at capacity. (See Cat Defender post of May 27, 2016 entitled "Snubbed by an Ignorant, Tasteless, and Uncaring Public for the Past Twenty-One Years, Tilly Has Forged an Alternative Existence of Relative Contentment at a Sanctuary in the Black Country" and the Donau Kurier of Ingolstadt, July 9, 2013, "Die Geschichte der Maya.")

Managed TNR colonies offer a fourth option for elderly cats and Alley Cat Allies has had several of its charges in Atlantic City live to be at least twenty years old. (See Cat Defender post of December 10, 2011 entitled "Snowball Succumbs to the Inevitable after Toughing It Out for Two Decades at Atlantic City's Underwood Hotel.")

Even so, it is cruel to sentence elderly cats to spend their last days all alone and outdoors. Plus, the Underwood Hotel is a dangerous place for even humans, let alone defenseless cats. (See Cat Defender post of August 24, 2017 entitled "The Brutal Murders of a Trio of Atlantic City's Boardwalk Cats Provide an Occasion for the Local Rag and PETA to Whoop It Up and to Break Open the Champagne.")

Considering the great extent to which the game of life is stacked against them, only a handful of cats ever live long enough in order to become senior citizens. Those that do accordingly should be treasured for the rare gems that they are and every day that they continue to grace the face of Mother Earth ought to be regarded a a precious gift.

Even granting them that much is still woefully insufficient. In particular, not only should their right to live be enshrined in law but that also should entitle them to warm, secure, and loving homes, a good quality diet, and top-notch veterinary care. To afford hem anything less makes a mockery of any lingering pretenses that man may still harbor in his malignant bosom about his own fundamental fairness, decency and, most importantly, right to exist himself.

Photo: Thomas Seifert of the Frankfurter Neue Presse.

The Butcher of Knightstown, James A. Wilson

"Look, just stop. I'll take him home. I'll put a bullet in his head. It would be a much kinder way for him to go."
-- Ditty's unidentified female owner

Evil and moralless men and women always have been around but it used to be that the hideous crimes that they perpetrated against cats were pretty much confined to specific geographic locations. Technological advances have changed all of that and nowadays there is not a corner of the planet that is safe from their wicked designs.

Perhaps even more importantly has been the invention of language which has made possible not only the dissemination of lies but worldwide indoctrination as well. "Language was our secret weapon, and as soon as we got language we became a really dangerous species," biologist Mark Pagel of the University of Reading told The New York Times on April 25, 2011. (See "Ancient Clicks Hint Language Is Africa-Born.")

It therefore might not be unfair to conclude that a good share of the world's evils have their genesis in the corruption of language. Take for instance the ancient Greek word euthanasía which literally means an easy death. Much later in history its meaning was expanded to include the snuffing out of the lives of animals and, on rare occasions, humans that were deemed to be suffering from incurable diseases and conditions. Today, its connotation has been so corrupted as to encompass the wholesale slaughter of tens of millions of cats and other animals all around the world each year simply because their owners are, inter alia, to cheap to medicate them, too lazy to care for them, or simply want rid of them for a variety of reasons.

To make a long story short, euthanasia has now become synonymous with cold-blooded murder. Almost as importantly as the commission of these dastardly deeds themselves, there is absolutely nothing either painless or humane about these so-called euthanizations regardless of whatever guises that they may take or how pretty the language that animal owners, shelters, and veterinarians employ in order to cloak the ugly truth.

Another huge problem is that owners, shelters, and veterinarians carry out their diabolical atrocities in secret and far from the prying eyes and ears of the hoi polloi. Out of sight accordingly translates into out of mind.

Now thanks to two complaints filed with Indiana Attorney General Curtis Theophilus Hill, Jr., the public has been made privy to exactly what goes on behind the scenes in the surgeries of veterinarians who not only kill cats but for a handsome profit as well. Specifically, on January 5th Hill filed a complaint with the Indiana Board of Veterinary Examiners (IBVE) in Indianapolis alleging that sixty-four-year-old practitioner James A. Wilson, operator of the Knightstown Veterinary Hospital at 8562 West US 40, had failed to "humanely, kindly, and peacefully euthanize two cats." Knightstown, located fifty-one kilometers east of Indianapolis, is perhaps best known to the outside world as the setting of the 1986 basketball movie, Hoosiers.

The first complaint concerns a fifteen-year-old cat named Sweetpea that Wilson dispatched to the devil on February 13, 2016. In behavior more commonly associated with the bulldogs that he breeds as an avocation than that befitting an animal doctor, Wilson began his assault upon Sweetpea by roughly removing her from her carrier and then grabbing her by the scruff of her neck. He next bound the front paws of the allegedly sick and purring female with masking tape before proceeding to tie one of her rear appendages to the examination table with a piece of twine.

"Please don't do that to her," Sweetpea's unidentified female owner reportedly pleaded with him according to The Star Press of Muncie's February 6th edition. (See "Veterinarian Accused of Cruel Euthanizations.")"Please don't treat her like that."

Not only did Wilson demonstrate the bedside manner of a boa constrictor on that occasion but he also was in such a hellfire hurry that he had great difficulty even locating a vein into which to inject the poison that was destined to rob Sweetpea of her precious life. All of that ultimately proved to be too much for the woman to witness.

After she had withdrawn, her father stormed into the killing theatre and demanded of Wilson why that he had Sweetpea stretched out and trussed to the examining table. The vet responded by telling him that he was scared to death that the cat was going to bite him and if that happened he would have to cut off her head and send it to a laboratory for analysis.

All of that is, of course, pure nonsense. First of all, anyone who does not possess the prerequisite savoir-faire in order to properly restrain a cat does not have any business practicing veterinary medicine. Equally importantly, it is difficult to see how that such an obviously callous and incompetent individual could even begin to properly treat any cat.

The most likely explanation to that conundrum is that Wilson considers all the cats that he is being paid to kill as garbage and he therefore does not recognize any need whatsoever to treat them as sentient beings. It additionally is entirely conceivable that killing cats constitutes a lion's share of his practice and with that being the case he has forgotten how to humanely treat any cat that has the misfortune to wind up at his surgery. His modus operandi is therefore to whack them as quickly and expeditiously as possible, collect his blood money, and then move on to other patients.

Secondly, while it is certainly possible that there could be an Indiana statute on the books that mandates the beheading of all cats that bite individuals, such a law is pure madness. Au contraire, if anyone is to be decapitated it should be lamebrains like Wilson and certainly not any cat.

Much more importantly, it is difficult to understand how that any practitioner of veterinary medicine could possibly avoid being occasionally scratched and bitten by his feline patients. "Those who'll play with cats must expect to be scratched," Migued de Cervantes pointed out a long time ago.

Despite the hysterical rantings of cat-haters and the uninformed, scratches are not any big deal. They may sting and even bleed a little but that is pretty much the extent of the damage that they inflict upon recipients. Nevertheless, they should be irrigated with either soap and water, iodine, zinc, hydrogen peroxide, or vinegar as a precautionary measure but that is about all the attention that they normally require.

Bites are an altogether different matter owing to the bacteria that cats carry around with them in their mouths. Even so, they usually can be remedied through irrigation, a squeezing out of any residual blood that comes to the surface, and an application of such common over-the-counter antibiotics as bacitracin, neomycin sulfate, and polymyxin b sulfate.

Depending upon the location of the wound, it may be necessary to bandage it so as to keep the antibiotics in situ. If any complications other than a minimal degree of swelling should develop, a trip to a doctor's office for stronger antibiotics would be perhaps advisable.

Finally as far as this topic is concerned, there could not possibly be so much as a shred of validity in Wilson's thinking given that just about all owners are accidentally scratched and bitten by their cats from time to time. Besides, if any veterinarian adhered to his asinine advice he soon would find himself not only bereft of feline patients altogether but also in court defending himself against unlawful death lawsuits as well as larceny charges.

With the money on the table, Wilson was not about to allow Sweetpea to escape with her life and through sheer perseverance he was able to eventually locate a vein to serve as the conduit for his poison. Her death, however, was anything but quick and painless as proponents of these so-called euthanizations so often allege.

Instead, she was put through what can only be termed as pure hell which first saw her go into convulsions which were followed by twitching spams. She then began to flail about as she gasped for breath with her tongue hanging out of her diminutive mouth. The Star Press fails to disclose how long this torture session went on but it nevertheless did prove to be too much for the owner's father to watch and he, too, soon marched out of the examining room.

In his defense, Wilson has packed off the blame for this debacle onto the tiny shoulders of totally innocent Sweetpea herself for her refusal to, in the immortal words of Welsh poet Dylan Thomas, "go gentle into that good night.""Everybody who deals with cats realizes that cats aren't generally willing participants in some things...," he philosophized to The Star Press."They don't magically hold still."

While he was at it, he chastised Sweetpea for having been a difficult cat to annihilate. "(During euthanization) cats occasionally...have a reaction period and become excited. It's a well-known fact," he averred to The Star Press."This was one of the worst excitements I have ever seen."

Her owner likewise did not escape his censure. "I understand people love their cats...but you have to pick them up and get them out of their cage (sic)...," he continued to The Star Press."This lady was very, very soft-hearted. We got it out of the cage and it screamed."

He finished up by invoking the time-honored scared to death rationale. "I have to protect myself, my employees and my customers...," he declared self-righteously to The Star Press."If it bites somebody, legally its head has to come off or it has to be quarantined for seven days."

To sum up. Wilson has amateurishly attempted to blame this horribly botched killing upon everyone involved except himself. C'est-à-dire, he is not a cold-blooded murderer, a brute, and an incompetent but rather every bit as innocent as a newborn lamb.

The second complaint concerns an eight-year-old male named Ditty that Wilson whacked under similarly appalling circumstances on July 3, 2017. On that unpleasant occasion, the blundering nitwit jabbed the cat in his back legs with a needle about fifteen times in an unsuccessful effort to locate a vein. Quickly tiring of that futile exercise, he instead stabbed Ditty directly in the heart with the needle without the benefit of first anesthetizing him.

Before that had happened Ditty had screamed his lungs out in a last-ditch plea that his life be spared and in doing so he inadvertently bit his female owner on the nose. That in turn caused a shower of blood to rain down on the killing mat and sent the woman scurrying for cover in the waiting room.

When she returned a short time later the blood now was in her eye and she had malice aforethought in her heart. "Look, just stop. I'll take him home," she reportedly instructed Wilson. "I'll put a bullet in his head. It would be a much kinder way for him to go."

Such reprehensible thinking on the part of owners is neither uncommon nor always attributable to veterinary incompetence. For example, Brian Burgess of Sandyford in Staffordshire took exception to the £141.59 that an unidentified veterinarian charged him for killing off his sixteen-year-old unidentified female on December 16, 2011 after she had suffered a stroke.

"Do I take her home and watch her die in agony, take her down to the canal with a brick around her neck, or simply belt her across the head with a hammer?" the callous cheapskate groused to The Sentinel of Stoke and Staffordshire on January 10, 2012. (See "£141 Put My Pet Cat to Sleep.")

As was the case with Sweetpea, Wilson once again has pinned the blame for this botched liquidation on everyone involved except himself. "This cat was extremely sick and it was not holding still," he complained to The Star Press.

He then trained his sights on Ditty's owner. "The owner was wanting to help hold her (sic) still but she is not trained to do that," he explained to The Star Press."But sometimes clients insist. What are you going to do, argue with them?"

He is on target, however, in denouncing the owner's alternative plan. "Saying you're going to shoot it with a gun is ridiculous," he told The Star Press."I did the best I could under the circumstances."

Lastly, he has blamed the difficulty of the task itself. "Sometimes veins are very difficult to get into," he explained to The Star Press."We (sic) try to avoid intracardiac injections unless they are anesthetized, but this one kept pulling away."

In other words, Ditty richly deserved his all-consuming fear, stress, suffering, a fatal stab wound to the heart and, above all, to be robbed of his right to live. Mercifully, the entire civilized world has not gone completely bonkers.

Wilson has "failed to exercise the reasonable care and diligence ordinarily exercised by members of his profession in similar cases under like circumstances," Hill argues in his complaint to the IBVE. He accordingly is asking it to discipline him by, inter alia, issuing him a letter of reprimand, a fine, requiring him to go back to veterinary school, placing him on probation, or either suspending or revoking his license.

At least four conclusions can readily be drawn from the murders of Sweetpea and Ditty. First of all, despite the affirmations of Wilson and their owners both cats quite obviously had plenty of life left in them.

Secondly, they clearly did not want to die and that petit fait is graphically demonstrated by the spirited struggles that they waged in order to go on living. Thirdly, there cannot be any disputing that they suffered tremendous physical and psychological pain during their last minutes on this earth. Fourthly, both cats were roughly handled and abused by Wilson and their owners.

Although there are not any data to support a firm conclusion that the way in which Wilson treated Seeetpea and Ditty is the norm in veterinary circles, it is strongly suspected that is indeed the case. The only exception would be those rare instances where cats are already on their last gasps and therefore too far gone in order to put up much in the way of resistance. That in turn makes killing them superfluous.

Lethal injections likewise are not a humane way of killing kittens. On the contrary, they are very much alive and correspondingly feel pain very intensely.

What kindhearted and caring owners should do instead is to make ailing cats comfortable at home and to cradle them in their laps. That is anything but a pleasant task but in this world individuals should be willing to accept the tears that follow the laughter, the infirmities of old age that supplant the vigor of youth and, above all, that horrible descent into oblivion that ultimately usurps even life itself.

Cassandra James Pled Guilty to Drug Charges

For their part cats never willingly forsake their owners and the latter should be willing to reciprocate by going the last mile with them. (See Cat Defender post of July 27, 2013 entitled "Instead of Killing Her Off with a Jab of Sodium Pentobarbital and Then Burning Her Corpse, Ian Remains Steadfast at His Guardian's Side Long after Her Death.")

Some of them even hang around to the bitter end with individuals that they hardly even know. (See Cat Defender posts of July 30, 2007 and May 27, 2010 entitled, respectively, "A Visit from Oscar Means That the Grim Reaper Cannot Be Far Behind for the Terminally Ill at a Rhode Island Nursing Home" and "When Lovers, Friends, Health, and All Hope Have Vanished, Oscar Is There for Those Who Have No One and Nothing Left.")

Even the ringing down of the final curtain does not put an end to conscientious owners' obligations to their cats. Rather, the departed must be given a proper memorial service, a fitting burial, and a tombstone. By contrast, veterinarians and shelters simply toss the remains of their victims in the trash.

Cats that still have plenty of life left in them, such as Sweetpea and Ditty, should be allowed to go on living. Furthermore, any halfway just and compassionate society would mandate by law that they be provided with the top-notch veterinary care that they so richly need and deserve regardless of whether their owners can afford it or not.

As reprehensibly as Wilson botched the killings of Sweetpea and Ditty, his conduct in that regard is far from being the worst in recent memory. For example in June of 2011, Mandy Raab of Donnington outside of Telford in Shropshire dropped off her tuxedoes, Maddy and Tammy, at Wrekin Veterinary Practice in nearby Wellington to be sterilized.

While examining Maddy, the practitioners noticed that she had an injured leg and accordingly advised her owner that she should be killed. Given that cats can get along just fine on three appendages, that should have served as a warning to Raab that the surgery was not operating on the level.

It did not, however, and she instead gave the veterinarians the green light to go ahead and kill her. Being incompetent boobs, however, they got the cats mixed up and killed Tammy instead.

Instead of leaving bad enough alone, Raab next instructed the veterinarians to make a tabula rasa of that debacle by polishing off Maddy as originally planned. (See Cat Defender post of July 28, 2011 entitled "Tammy and Maddy Are Forced to Pay the Ultimate Price after Their Owner and an Incompetent Veterinarian Elect to Play Russian Roulette with Their Lives.")

In Wilson's case, this is far from being the first time that he has been called on the carpet by the authorities. For instance, during 2013 and 2014 he wrote multiple prescriptions for Alprazolam (Xanax) allegedly for two dogs, Cujo and Bear, but the drugs were actually used by his then employee and fiancée, thirty-four-year-old Cassandra James.

She later was charged with burglarizing the animal hospital in order to steal additional drugs. Although the authorities originally charged her with five counts of forgery and twenty counts of drug possession, they eventually allowed her to plead guilty to only four counts of possession. The Star Press skirts the issue but it is unlikely that she served any time in jail.

Her boss and lover on the other hand was originally charged with no fewer than twenty-five counts of illegally dealing and dispensing drugs but on January 4th Hill dropped those charges in exchange Wilson's pleading guilty to one count of failing to make, keep, and furnish records of his surgery's controlled substances. Even then he was let off with probation.

"Those charges should never have been filed in the first place," he defiantly told The Star Press."They didn't have a case."

While he was at it, Hill last summer attempted to get the IBVE to suspend Wilson's license to practice veterinary medicine but he was rebuffed. The State "did not show through clear and convincing evidence that Wilson was a clear and immediate danger to the public health and safety if allowed to continue to practice," it ruled at that time.

Following his guilty plea in January, the IBVE did place him on indefinite probation and order him back to school in order to brush up on his recordkeeping skills. It also mandated that he undergo a veterinarian well-being assessment.

The board's ruling raises two puzzling issues. First of all, since Wilson voluntarily surrendered his Drug Enforcement Administration license to prescribe drugs in 2014 it is difficult to see how that the recordkeeping classes are going to profit either him or the state unless he is planning to have his license reinstated. Secondly, it is hard to imagine how that he is still able to practice veterinary medicine without being able to prescribe drugs to his patients. He accordingly must be relying upon the assistance of another licensed veterinarian to write the prescriptions that he prescribes.

As was the case with his botched liquidations of Sweetpea and Ditty, Wilson is blaming his drug problems on someone else. "The pending criminal charges were related to prescriptions that were improperly obtained by an employee of his practice, who he was also in a romantic relationship with at that time," the IBVE concluded by way of refusing to suspend his license.

About the only thing exculpatory that can be said about that situation is that it is not uncommon for an older man, such as Wilson, to lose his head over a young woman. It also is far preferable that the dangerous drugs found their way into James' system rather than into Cujo, Bear, and cats.

Furthermore, mood-altering drugs, such as Alprazolam, never should be given to cats, dogs, and other animals under any circumstances. They have their own unique personalities and moods and should be left to them. Those individuals who do not like than as they are should stay away from them and confine their socializing to their doped-up human counterparts.

"Love the animals. God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled," Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote in his 1879 novel, The Brothers Karamazov. "Don't trouble it, don't harass them, don't deprive them of their happiness, don't work against God's intent."

Besides, Alprazolam is an extremely dangerous drug for humans to play around with, let alone animals. For example, its side effects can include paranoia, suicide, memory and coordination impairment, and even death. Nevertheless, the wholesale prescribing of harmful drugs to cats and dogs has become, like whacking them, a popular and profitable sideline for both veterinarians and the drug manufacturers themselves.

While it is not known how big of a racket this is, it nevertheless is strongly suspected that it rivals the medical profession's unconscionable fobbing off of oxycodone and fentanyl to gullible and uninformed members of the public, such as the late rocker Tom Petty who died on October 2nd of last year. (See The New York Times, January 19, 2018, "Tom Petty Died from Accidental Drug Overdose Involving Opiods, Coroner Says.")

Given his tendency to always blame others for his own mistakes, it is only fitting that Wilson now is claiming that Hill and his subordinates are pursuing a vendetta against him. "They got beat (on the drug charges) and are not happy about it, and they're doing everything they can to try and stir up trouble and put me out of business," he railed to The Star Press."They were searching and searching...They interviewed all of my former employees over the last five years trying to find something. I'm fighting this to the end."

Hill's mouthpiece, Bill McCleery, vociferously disagrees. "The Office of Attorney General Curtis Hill cannot initiate a licensing investigation unless we receive a complaint from outside of the office," he argued to The Star Press."Legal actions are taken to hold individuals or entities accountable. To suggest that our office would engage in anything but ethical behavior is absurd."

The IBVE is expected to convene a hearing on Hill's complaint against Wilson sometime later this month but it would be shocking if it took any meaningful action against him. After all, considering that it was unwilling to pull his license in spite of his numerous violations of the drug laws, it is not about to do so because of how horribly he mistreated Sweetpea and Ditty.

That is true for at least three reasons. First of all, few individuals either within or outside the veterinary medical profession care so much as one whit about the millions of cats that are systematically exterminated each year across the United States by veterinarians, shelters, Animal Control officers, and cops.

Secondly, killing cats puts an awful lot of money in the coffers of veterinarians. Thirdly, all veterinary oversight bodies, such as the IBVE, the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons in London, and the Conseil régional de l'ordre des vétérinaires Picardie in Armiens, exist solely in order to protect their own interests and those of their members and that select group most definitely does not include cats. (See Cat Defender posts of June 17, 2010 and January 19, 2012 entitled, respectively, "A Veterinarian Gets Away with Almost Killing Felix but Is Nailed by the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons for Not Paying Her Dues" and "A Veterinary Watchdog Group Not Only Allows an Incompetent Substitute Practitioner to Get Away with Killing Junior but Scolds His Owner for Complaining.")

It is pretty much impossible to know exactly how many cats that veterinarians kill each year. That is attributable first of all to a total lack of interest on the part of private individuals, rescue groups, and politicians to undertake even so much as a cursory inquiry into the matter.

The issue is further complicated by the fact that veterinarians also hire out their killing expertise to shelters, research laboratories, zoos, circuses, the sports industry, and the entertainment business. For what little it is worth, the Humane Society of the United States in Washington estimates that American animal shelters alone kill three to four million cats and dogs annually and of that total 2.7 million of them are adoptable. Even those deemed to be unadoptable could be sent to TNR colonies and sanctuaries and that in turn strongly implies that one-hundred per cent of all those killings are unnecessary.

Those owners who employ veterinarians, such as Wilson, as their designated triggermen fall into two broad categories. The members of the first group ludicrously claim that they are so hard up as to be totally unable to afford to even purchase food for their cats.

They even have their apologists. "(Owners sometimes just can't) provide what that animal needs due to changes in their family finances or job changes that have caused them to have a tighter budget," Barbara Hutcherson of Lost Dog and Cat Rescue in Arlington, Virginia, averred to USA Today on June 7, 2014. (See "Euthanizing Pets Increasing as Vet Costs Rise.")"The saddest thing that I see in my e-mail inbox is probably when someone needs to give up an older pet that they have had for many years because the care has become so expensive."

That is sans doute some of the most outrageous balderdash ever uttered! Contrary to what she and the capitalist media would have the world to believe, there is not any food shortage in the United States.

The feeding of one or two cats accordingly is well within the budget of even those that live on welfare. They might have to slack off on their boozing, doping, gambling, whoring, and gluttony but feeding a few cats does not pose a financial hardship on anyone.

Rescue groups even dole out a certain amount of cat food gratis to those owners who are too cheap to spend their own precious shekels on their cats' diet. Even when commercial cat food is not available, their companions can get by just fine on human food. That is precisely what they did until kibble and canned tuna became popular in the 1950's.

It therefore is the epitome of dishonesty to claim that Americans are undernourished; au contraire, they are the world's number one gluttons, not to mention being stingy and wasteful to boot. The federal government spends $79 billion annually on Food Stamps and on top of that there are WIC coupons.

Seemingly every church in the country hands out bags of food, which they obtain from the feds, and there are soup kitchens in practically every neighborhood. For instance, New York City has around four-hundred of them and that does not even begin to take into consideration those groups that hand out food on the street.

Even if worse came to worst dedicated owners could feed their cats by raiding Dumpsters and collecting the boxes of food that are left at the curb on trash collection days. Even individuals who have lost practically everything that they once had nonetheless somehow manage to retain custody of their cats though they may be living on the street in cardboard boxes.

There is even a limited amount of veterinary care available to the cats and dogs of the homeless. For example on July 30th of last year, two groups attended to the pets of about sixty individuals who then were living in a shantytown located in the riverbed of the Santa Ana River Trail in Anaheim.

"We launched this program because we know there are many services for homeless people but not for their pets," Mark Malo of the Garden Grove Dog and Cat Hospital told The Orange County Register of Anaheim on July 31, 2017. (See "Veterinarians Treat Homeless Pets at Santa Ana River Trail for Free.")"These people are dedicated to their animals. They would go without their own meals to feed them."

It therefore seems fair to conclude that if the universally despised homeless can find a way to feed their cats and dogs that the so-called respectable bourgeoisie do not have a valid excuse for failing to do likewise. It is a pity, however, that the compassionate work performed by Malo and his colleagues was undone a short time later by the gendarmes who unceremoniously not only evicted the squatters but their pets as well from the Santa Ana River Trail.

Being either unable or unwilling to pay the exorbitant fees that vets change is likewise not a valid reason for owners to instead pay veterinarians to kill them. Nonetheless, that is precisely what many owners elect to do because doing so is far cheaper than the care that will save their cats' lives.

Indiana Attorney General Curtis Theophilus Hill, Jr.

The large number of cats that veterinarians sentence to die on their own by cruelly and inhumanely withholding treatment must also be added to the total that they liquidate for economic reasons. (See Cat Defender posts of March 19, 2014 and July 16, 2010 entitled respectively, "Cheap and Greedy Moral Degenerates at PennVet Extend Their Warmest Christmas Greetings to an Impecunious, but Preeminently Treatable, Cat Via a Jab of Sodium Pentobarbital" and "Tossed Out the Window of a Car Like an Empty Beer Can, Injured Chattanooga Kitten Is Left to Die after at Least Two Veterinarians Refused to Treat It.")

It is not easy to delineate exactly where economic considerations give way to convenience killings, but it is strongly suspected that the latter is even more prevalent than the former. Of course, few owners are willing to call it that; rather, they make up outrageous lies about not wanting to see their cats suffer.

As is the case with economic euthanasia, convenience killing not only has its legions of supporters but many individuals, groups, and institutions who have nothing but praise for veterinarians and shelters who do owners' dirty work for them by whacking their cats. For instance, Karen Brulliard of The Washington Post can hardly manage to put stylo to papier without crying a proverbial river for them. (See Cat Defender post of September 30, 2005 entitled "The Morally Bankrupt Washington Post Pens a Love Letter to Shelter Workers Who Exterminate Cats and Dogs.")

The Austin Chronicle is another publication that is madly in love with cat and dog killers. (See Cat Defender post of November 23, 2005 entitled "A Texas Newspaper Defends Pet Genocide by Publishing Graphic Photographs of Shelter Workers Exterminating a Dog.")

This deplorable situation has gotten so far out of hand that there is even an organization, Compassion Understood of Rugby in Warwickshire, that exists to make killing cats "as smooth and stress-free as possible for all concerned."(See Your Cat Magazine of Grantham in Lincolnshire, April 21, 2016, "Online End-of-Life Training for Vet Practices Launched.")

When it comes to not only the prettying-up of the god-awful liquidation of wholesale numbers of cats but also the transforming of doing so into something akin to a social obligation, no one or group can hold so much as a candle to Ingrid E. Newkirk and her band of villains and inveterate liars at PETA. Specifically, she and her brainwashed apostles of death gallivant all over the world and across the Internet preaching the gospel that no homeless cat has any right whatsoever to even exist.

In accordance with such a warped morality, the organization is vehemently opposed to not only TNR but also the feeding of homeless cats by purely private individuals and groups. (See Cat Defender post of August 24, 2017 entitled "The Brutal Murders of a Trio of Atlantic City's Boardwalk Cats Provide an Occasion for the Local Rag and PETA to Whoop It Up and to Break Open the Champagne.")

To merely accuse PETA of simply hating homeless cats would not do justice to its warped agenda; actually, it hates all cats and is dedicated to their eradication from the face of the earth. To begin with, it wants to make it illegal for individuals to even own them.

"It is time we demand an end to the misguided concept of animal ownership," Newkirk has mouthed on more than one occasion. "(We should) return to a more symbiotic relationship (with animals) -- enjoyment at a distance."

Such an agenda dovetails nicely with the organization's rabid ailurophobia in that if cats no longer had owners to shield and protect them it therefore would have a free hand in order to eliminate them at will. Needless to say, if PETA had its way there soon would no longer be any cats to enjoy at any distance.

PETA likewise is opposed to securing homes for abandoned and lost cats. "Adoption can be bad -- far worse than euthanasia," Newkirk insanely claims.

Furthermore, the organization looks down its long, dirty schnoz at no-kill operations. "These people aren't in the trenches, they're on Facebook," the group's Daphne Nachminovitch told Slate on May 19, 2014. (See "Animal Rights Advocates Are Fighting Like Cats and Dogs over No-Kill Shelters.")"They believe that anyone who is compassionate and loves animals can run a shelter, but bad management leads to hoarding, bad adoptions, and cage deaths."

As utterly reprehensible as its rhetoric may be, PETA's praxis is even worse. For instance, it operates a fleet of death vans that travel the back roads of southern Virginia and northern North Carolina trapping and picking up cats and dogs from the streets and fields. It also steals them from the grounds of private residences and even inveigles shelters to surrender them to its representatives under the guise that they are going to find good homes for them.

In reality, none of those animals ever make it out of PETA's death chariots alive; instead, they are administered lethal injections and then their corpses are deposited in private Dumpsters. (See Cat Defender posts of January 29, 2007 and February 9, 2007 entitled, respectively, "PETA's Long History of Killing Cats and Dogs Is Finally Exposed in a North Carolina Courtroom" and "Verdict in PETA Trial: Littering Is a Crime but Not the Mass Slaughter of Innocent Cats and Dogs," plus The Virginian-Pilot of Norfolk, articles dated December 1, 2014 and February 27, 2015 and entitled, respectively, "Man Says PETA Took His Dog from Porch, Killed Her" and "PETA 'Devastated' after Dog Taken from Porch Is Euthanized.")

Those cats and dogs that somehow manage to make it inside the doors of its shelter in Norfolk do not fare any better in that up to ninety-eight per cent of them are killed shortly after their arrival. Such a policy also conveniently relieves the organization of the necessity of having spend any of the estimated $40 million that it takes in annually on feeding, medicating, sheltering, and adopting out those animals.

All of that, no matter how damning, is old news. Considerably less well understood is PETA's killing modus operandi.

Whereas it is generally conceded by most sensible individuals that killing up to thirty cats at a time in gas chambers, such as shelters in Utah, North Carolina, and other states routinely do, is cruel and barbaric, the time has come to ask just how humane are the lethal injections that PETA touts so vociferously and administers so profusely to innocent and defenseless cats? (See Cat Defender posts of November 12, 2011 and February 7, 2012 entitled, respectively, "The Multiple Attempts Made Upon Andrea's Life Graphically Demonstrate the Urgent Need for an Immediate Ban on the Killing of All Shelter Animals" and "Long-Suffering Andrea Finally Secures a Permanent Home after Incredibly Surviving Quadruple Attempts Made on Her Life by an Unrepentant Utah Shelter.")

"Our service is to provide a peaceful and painless death to animals no one wants," Newkirk has proclaimed on numerous occasions. Since outside observers are not permitted inside PETA's death vans, its Norfolk shelter, and the offices of the veterinarians who do its dirty work for it, no one really know for sure just how "peaceful" and "painless" its executions are in reality.

These egomaniacal frauds also ludicrously claim that cats find being whacked to be a pleasurable experience. "The veterinarian immediately put the suffering cat out of his misery, giving him more comfort in his final moments than he had likely known for much of his life," the organization's Alisa Mullins said in reference to a cat that PETA stole off of the streets and then executed in 2011. (See Cat Defender post of October 7, 2011 entitled "PETA Traps and Kills a Cat and Then Shamelessly Goes Online in Order to Brag about Its Criminal and Foul Deed.")

As the premeditated murders of Sweetpea and Ditty have graphically demonstrated, cats never go willingly to the gallows and that petit fait alone calls into question Newkirk's and Mullins' claims about such killings as "peaceful,""painless," and a "comfort." Even more revealing, Newkirk's own behavior flatly contradicts her own self-serving propaganda.

Before founding PETA, she operated a shelter in Washington, DC, where she did away with her inmates in much the same kind of mad killing frenzies as Robert Fawcett displayed when he liquidated one-hundred of his Siberian Huskies once he no longer needed their services following the close of the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver. "I went to the front office all the time, and I would say, 'They are stepping on the animals, crushing them like grapes, and they don't care'," she revealed to The New Yorker on April 4, 2003. (See "The Woman Behind the Most Successful Radical Group in America.") "In the end, I would go to work early, before anyone got there, and I would just kill the animals myself. Because I couldn't stand to let them go through that. I must have killed thousands of them, sometimes dozens every day."

To have carried out that many murders each day and in such a short period of time Newkirk must have done to her animals what Wilson did to Ditty and that is to have stabbed each of them in the heart with needles and without the benefit of anesthesia. That accordingly raises the likelihood that PETA conducts business in its death vans and at its shelter in a similar fashion.

It therefore is high time that PETA either put up or shut up. If it truly believes that the thousands of executions that it performs each year are humane it should allow outside observers to witness them.

The deadly drugs that veterinarians and shelters dispense do not only kill cats and dogs but also birds and other wildlife that feed upon their carcasses whenever they are deposited in landfills. Traces of them also have been found in pet food and that strongly suggests that the corpses of cats and dogs are being sold to the manufacturers of pet food.

In that respect, it would be interesting to know how many wild animals that PETA has inadvertently killed through its being too cheap in order to properly dispose of the corpses of the animals that it indiscriminately slaughters en masse each year. It also is entirely conceivable that the lethal drugs employed in these wholesale eradications could be contaminating the earth and streams as well and as such that would make a worthy subject for the Environmental Protection Agency in Washington to investigate.

It also is illustrative to examine how radically differently capital offenders, the majority of whom are most assuredly guilty as charged, are treated vis-à-vis totally innocent cats. For instance, the European Union and eighteen American states ban capital punishment and even in the remaining states where it is still legal candlelight vigils are held for the condemned, clerical intervention is common, politicians are called upon to show mercy, and last-minute appeals are made to the United States Supreme Court.

Even on those rare occasions when a condemned man is actually put to death, if he so much as twitches in pain a clarion call goes out from various sectors of society that the death penalty is cruel and immoral. That in turn has led to more than twenty European and American drug manufacturers to prohibit the use of their products in the taking of lives.

"Pfizer makes its products to enhance and save the lives of the patients we serve (and) strongly objects to the use of its products as lethal injections for capital punishment," the New York City-based pharmaceutical giant pontificated to The New York Times on May 13, 2016. (See "Pfizer Blocks the Use of Its Drugs in Executions.")

New York State Comptroller Thomas P. DiNapoli brushed aside Pfizer's highfalutin rhetoric in order to zero in on more practical considerations. "A company in the business of helping people is putting its reputation to risk when it supplies drugs for executions," he blowed to The New York Times."The company is also risking association with botched executions, which opens it up to legal and financial damage."

By contrast, cats have never committed any crimes unless breathing is considered to be a capital offense. Yet, no one has ever seen a candlelight vigil outside of either a shelter or a veterinarian's office, the cats' pleas for mercy fall upon the deaf ears of the Talmud thumpers and Bible beaters, and their inalienable right to live and to be afforded due process of law is not part of the jurisprudence that judges and politicians dispense with such vigor and enthusiasm.

Furthermore as the murders of Sweetpea and Ditty have demonstrated, cats suffer truly horrible and prolonged deaths at the hands of veterinarians and shelter personnel and yet absolutely nobody ever demands that the makers of sodium pentobarbital, such as Akorn Pharmaceuticals and its subsidiary Oak Pharmaceuticals of Lake Forest, Illinois, and Aston Pharma of London, stop selling their products to those practitioners and institutions as well as to all research laboratories located on college campuses. The same scenario holds true for their extensive network of suppliers, such as Henry Schein of Dublin, Ohio, and compounding pharmacies, such as Heiber's of Pittsburgh, who ultimately make it possible for cat killers to not only stay in business but to continue laughing all the way to the bank.

The belief that individuals and institutions are endowed with a carte blanche right to kill cats for any or no reason is embedded so deeply in society that it even has corrupted the thinking and behavior of such renowned rescue groups such as Alley Cat Allies, Cats Protection, and the RSPCA. (See Cat Defender posts of January 2, 2013, February 17, 2016, and October 23, 2010 entitled, respectively, "Alley Cat Allies Demonstrates Its Utter Contempt for the Sanctity of Life by Unconscionably Killing Off Its Office Cat, Jared,""Cats Protection Races to Alfie's Side after His Owner Dies and He Winds Up on the Street, Swears It Is Going to Help Him, and Then Turns Around and Has Him Whacked," and "The RSPCA Steals and Executes Nightshift Who Was His Elderly Caretaker's Last Surviving Link to Her Dead Husband.")

The same holds true for those shelters that claim to be no-kill operations. (See Cat Defender posts of October 23, 2012 and July 29, 2010 entitled, respectively, "A Supposedly No-Kill Operation in Marblehead Betrays Sally and Snuffs Out Her Life Instead of Providing Her with a Home and Veterinary Care" and "The Benicia Vallejo Humane Society Is Outsourcing the Mass Killing of Kittens and Cats All the While Masquerading as as No-Kill Shelter.")

In the final analysis, there is not much point in appealing to veterinarians, shelters, rescue groups, and the drug manufacturers to mend their evil ways; most of them are such shameless whores for shekels that they gladly would pimp for even Satan himself. Politicians, jurists, and the clergy are ever worse rotters.

Together they form a tightly knit club which finds the wholesale suffering and killing of cats to be mutually beneficial. They like things the way they are and are equally determined that they remain unchanged.

What small glimmer of hope that there is lies with owners who have it well within their power to put all of these remorseless killers out of business once and for all time by ceasing to abuse, abandon and, above all, furnish the cats that keep their killing mills grinding. Even so, it would be naïve to think for one moment that the public disclosure of how ruthlessly and unconscionably Sweetpea and Ditty were treated is going to result in many owners having epiphanies.

For instance, the public disclosure of the murder of Spitz at the hands of the Oakland County Animal Shelter in Auburn Hills back in 2015 has not had any positive impact whatsoever upon how owners and shelters treat cats. (See Cat Defender post of July 31, 2015 entitled "The Cold-Blooded Murder of Spitz Once Again Exposes the Horrifying, Ugly, and Utter Appalling Truth about Not Only Shelters but Callous Owners and Phony-Baloney Animal Rights Groups as Well.")

"Human kindness is like a defective tap, the first gush may be impressive but the stream soon dries out," novelist Phyllis James once observed. When it comes to man's perennially abysmal mistreatment of cats, however, one can forget about getting anything out of the tap; the problem lies rather in the well itself and it always has been as dry as the Sahara Desert.

Meanwhile, the corruption and misuse of language continues unabated. After all, cats are not being murdered but rather euthanized, put down, put to sleep and, as far as the godly are concerned, gone to heaven.

They likewise do not suffer unimaginable physical and psychological horrors, but rather their deaths are quick, painless, and a welcomed comfort to them. Doubters, should any exist, need only to ask PETA, veterinarians, shelter operators, and the clergy and they will gladly set them straight in a hurry.

Photos: WXIN-TV of Indianapolis (Wilson), The Star Press (James), and WIBC-FM of Indianapolis (Hill).

Schneewittchen Arrived in Wien as an Unwitting Stowaway

"Aktuell stehen die Gesundheit und das Wachstum der Tiere im Vordergrund."
-- Wiener Tierschutzverein

Deutschland's loss is Österreich's gain.

On February 22nd, employees of a trucking company located in the Simmering district of Wien stumbled upon the presence of a pretty, longhaired black female of undetermined age in their depot. Instead of befriending her, offering her some food, and providing her with a place to hang her hat, they instead called in an exterminator who successfully trapped and removed her from the premises.

Although that disastrous turn of events surely must have caused her more than a few anxious moments, it ultimately turned out to have been a case of Glück im Unglück. That is because rather than expunging her life the pest control agents handed her over to Wiener Tierschutzverein (WTV) in Vösendorf, eighteen kilometers south of Wien, a day later on February 23rd.

By promptly identifying the truck that she most likely had arrived in and retracting its route, the trucking company eventually was able to determine that she had gotten on board somewhere in Deutschland but had been unable to extricate herself until its doors were unlocked in Simmering. That particular section of the österreichisch Hauptstadt is perhaps best known to the outside world as the location of the Wiener Zentralfriedhof which is home to the remains of Ludwig van Beethoven, Franz Schubert, and other notables.

None of that, however, explains exactly where and how she got into such a predicament. The most likely explanation is that she was carried aboard the lorry inside a container of some sort. It additionally is conceivable that she unwittingly boarded the vehicle of her own volition after having been either frightened by something or chased by someone or some animal.

Upon arrival at WTV, she was given the celebrated name of Schneewittchen and an examination by the charity's veterinarian revealed that she was in excellent health. Since there has not been any mention in press reports of her being either emaciated or dehydrated, that would tend to indicate that her unplanned trip across international borders had taken less than a day.

Given that she also had been well cared for, she quite obviously has an owner somewhere but since she was neither tagged nor microchipped WTV was left without any obvious means of contacting that individual. That in turn meant that Schneewittchen was now a stateless cat without either an owner or any visible means of support.

Normally, cats that arrive in Österreich are not quarantined provided that they have either a microchip or a tattoo, a health certificate signed by a veterinarian, and have been vaccinated against rabies. Since Schneewittchen possessed none of those documents, it therefore is unclear exactly what her legal status was upon arrival.

The Kittens Arrived on March 21st

This is all conjecture but presumably WTV acted quickly in order to fulfill those prerequisites but even then it is far from clear if she was, en effet, placed under quarantine for a specific period of time. Even if that ultimately did come to pass, she was not impounded by immigration authorities but rather allowed to serve her sentence at WTV.

If she had landed in Angleterre it would have been an entirely different story. In particular, she would have been required by law to have spent six months in quarantine at a cost of several thousand dollars.

For example in August of 2008, a ten-day-old, black and white kitten named Ronaldo somehow managed to survive a three-day trip in the back of a delivery truck without his mother from Portugal to Corby in Northamptonshire. Shortly after his arrival he was taken into custody by the authorities and surely would have bee killed if clothing retailer Matalan, at whose warehouse he had turned up,  had not compassionately intervened and paid his US$3,200 quarantine fee.

"We decided to donate the full amount because the kitten was in one of our depots and it has touched everyone in the office," Carly Hughes of the retailer said back then. " They (the employees) were all chuffed to bits to be able to help him."

While staffers at WTV were trying to decide what to do with Schneewittchen they received an even bigger surprise when an ultrasound examination disclosed that she was one month pregnant and that at least four Katzenbabys were due to arrive in about another month. (See the Kleine Zeitung of Graz, February 23, 2018, "Trächtige Katze als blinder Passagier in Lastkraftwagen unterwegs.")

What, if any, effect that revelation had upon WTV's plans for Schneewittchen never has been disclosed. If they had been at all familiar with the writings of Ernest Hemingway, however, they would have surely known, perhaps even without benefit of the ultrasound, that "one cat just leads to another."

Whereas some rescue groups might have been chagrined by that development, WTV by contrast was overjoyed. In the days and weeks that followed it regularly posted updates and numerous photographs of Schneewittchen on its Facebook page.

It also set up a Mamazimmer at its facility so that she would not be disturbed during her pregnancy and therefore could concentrate all of her energies upon bringing forth into this world a healthy litter. In addition to plenty of food and water, the carpeted room also was furnished with elevated resting perches and other amusements.

All of that was not undertaken for purely selfless reasons, however, in that staffers zweifellos looked forward to the opportunity of witnessing the miracle of birth and therefore to once again be able to view this old world through young eyes. That rewarding experience alone more than repaid WTV for its efforts on behalf of Schneewittchen.

Schneewittchen and Her Kittens in the Mamazimmer

The charity's compassionate treatment of her and her unborn kittens stands in stark contrast to how horribly cats, and especially kittens, are dealt with in the Vereinigten Staaten. Looked down upon as being nothing more than garbage that is unfit to live, Animal Control officers such as Barry Accorti of North Ridgeville, Ohio, put an end to their brief lives with bullet wounds to their tiny heads. (See The Plain Dealer of Cleveland, June 11, 2013, "North Ridgeville Clears Humane Officer of Wrongdoing for Killing Feral Kittens but Animal Groups Want Action.")

Shelters in Vallejo, California, Sugar Land, Texas, and elsewhere extirpate them en masse every day of the year. (See Cat Defender post of July 29, 2010 entitled "The Benicia Vallejo Humane Society Is Outsourcing the Mass Killing of Kittens and Cats All the While Masquerading as a No-Kill Shelter" and The Fort Bend Star, July 14, 2010, "Baby Kittens Put to Sleep in Error.")

Others, such as the Bay County Animal Shelter in Bay City, Michigan, hate kittens so much that they will not allow the public to intercede on their behalves by adopting them. (See Cat Defender post of June 15, 2010 entitled "Bay City Shelter Murders a Six-Week-Old Kitten with a Common Cold Despite Several Individuals Having Offered to Give It a Permanent Home.")

As far as the land of the dollar bill's bloodsucking practitioners of veterinary medicine are concerned, it is almost unheard of for any of them to be willing to lift so much as a lousy finger in order to save the life of any kitten or cat unless they first are presented with a wheelbarrow brimming over with greenbacks. Even the forking over to them of their mandatory thirty pieces of silver is not any guarantee of gaining their cooperation and competence; au contrarie, the money only serves to embolden them to be even more obstinate, dictatorial, uncooperative and, above all, incompetent. (See Cat Defender posts of July 16, 2010 and April 8, 2018 entitled, respectively, "Tossed Out the Window of a Car Like an Empty Beer Can, an Injured Chattanooga Kitten Is Left to Die after at Least Two Veterinarians Refused to Treat It" and "A Rare Behind the Scenes Glimpse at the Ruthless Murders of Two Cats by an Indiana Veterinarian Exposes All Those Who Claim that Lethal Injections Are Humane to Be Barefaced Liars.")

All of WTV's fidelity, steadfastness, and hard work paid a huge dividend when into this world of many wonders came seven more on March 21st. Sadly, one of them died shortly afterwards but that still left five tuxedoes and one jet-black kitten to brighten up this world. (See OE24.TV of Wien, March 22, 2018, "'Blinder Passagier' bekan sechs Junge.")

From the slew of photographs that WTV has posted of them on its Facebook page they appear to be in excellent health and on Saturday, April 21st they celebrated one month on this earth. The Fading Kitten Syndrome, which can strike without warning, is something that WTV and its veterinarians need to be on the lookout for but other than that they appear to be well on their way toward becoming healthy adult cats.

Even though things so far have worked out really well for Schneewittchen and her kittens, there cannot be any denying that she has had a narrow escape. Plus, her plight is yet still another rather poignant reminder of the myriad of perils that all modes of conveyance pose for unchaperoned cats.

In addition to her and Ronaldo, Neo, Carlsberg, Frosty, and Mausi have miraculously weathered perilous misadventures after they, too, became trapped in delivery trucks. (See Cat Defender posts of November 6, 2006, December 12, 2007, April 8, 2010, and March 16, 2013 entitled, respectively, "Trapped in a Moving Van for Five Days, Texas Cat Named Neo Is Finally Freed in Colorado,""Bored with Conditions at Home, Carlsberg Stows Away on a Beer Lorry for the Adventure of a Lifetime,""A Frozen Food Purveyor Knowingly Condemns Frosty to Spend Five Weeks in Its 28° Fahrenheit Warehouse Without Either Food or Water," and "Mausi Is Saved from a Potentially Violent Death on the Fast and Furious Autobahn Thanks to the Dramatic Intervention of a Münchner Couple.")

Unfortunately, Ally's travails proved to be too much for her to overcome. (See Cat Defender post of April 18, 2010 entitled "Ally's Last Ride Lands Her in a Death Trap Set by an Uncaring and Irresponsible Supermarket Chain and a Bargain Basement Shelter.")

Three of the Kittens Celebrating Their One Month Birthdays on April 21st

The operators of garbage trucks likewise pick up and crush to death countless cats each year but Penny, Alfie, and Maisy are three that sidestepped such a cruel fate at the very last minute. (See Cat Defender posts of August 23, 2007, May 4, 2010, and May 12, 2017 entitled, respectively, "An Alert Scrap Metal Worker Discovers a Pretty Penny Hidden in a Mound of Rubble,""Picked Up by a Garbage Truck Driver and Dumped with the Remainder of the Trash, Alfie Narrowly Escapes Being Recycled," and "Miracle Maisy Is Bound and Tied, Soaked in Petrol, Sealed Up in a Plastic Bag, and Then Run Through a Trash Compactor but, Amazingly, Is Still Alive Thanks to a Pair of Compassionate Garbagemen.")

Because they are so ubiquitous, passenger cars pose the greatest risk to cats and that is especially the case for those that get trapped either inside their engines, on their undercarriages, or are spirited away to distant locales. (See Cat Defender posts of January 5, 2006 and December 11, 2014 entitled, respectively, "Miracle Cat Survives a Seventy Mile Trip Down the New Jersey Turnpike by Clinging to the Drive Shaft of an SUV" and "Uprooted from Home and Left Stranded Thousands of Miles Away, Spice Discovers to Her Horror That Not All the Ghouls and Goblins in This World Are Necessarily to Be Found on Halloween.")

Owners who allow their cats to ride buses by their lonesomes are playing Russian roulette with their lives but, as far as it is known, Macavity and Dodger were able to get away with doing so for a good number of years. (See Cat Defender posts of April 19, 2007 and January 25, 2012 entitled, respectively, "Bus-Hopping Macavity Earns High Praise from His Fellow Commuters for Being the 'Perfect Passenger'" and "The Innocence of the Lambs: Unaware of the Dangers That Threaten His Very Existence, Dodger Charms Commuters on the Bridport to Charmouth Line.")

It did not take long, however, for Casper's derring-do to catch up to him with tragic, irrevocable results. (See Cat Defender post of January 30, 2010 entitled "Casper Is Run Down and Killed by a Hit-and-Run Taxi Driver While Crossing the Street in Order to Get to the Bus Stop.")

Trains are less of a lesser concern but that certainly does not mean that they are not still quite dangerous for cats. For example, both Rascal and Diesel were subjected to perilous long hauls that took them far from their homes. (See Cat Defender posts of June 7, 2007 and November 15, 2009 entitled, respectively, "Rascal Hops on a Freight Train in South Bend and Unwittingly Winds Up in Chattanooga" and "Diesel Amazingly Survives a Harrowing Nine-Hundred-Mile Train Ride by Precariously Clinging to the Undercarriage of a Speeding Locomotive.")

A far more common concern are those cats that get lost in the sprawling networks of commuter trains. (See Cat Defender posts of March 7, 2008 and January 31, 2014 entitled, respectively, "Georgia Is Found Safe and Sound after Spending a Harrowing Twenty-Five Days Lost in the Bowels of the New York City Subway System" and "A Northumbrian Shrink Lays Claim to the Title of Being the World's Most Irresponsible Cat Owner by Turning Loose Jasper to Roam the Perilous Tyne and Wear Metro for Weeks on End.")

An intrepid moggy named Percy, however, has not encountered any known difficulties while riding the miniature trains operated by the North Bay Railway in the Scarborough section of North Yorkshire. (See Cat Defender posts of November 14, 2009 and February 6, 2014 entitled, respectively, "Percy Takes the Train All by Himself in Order to Visit the Penguins at an Aquarium in Scarborough" and "Lovable and Adventurous Percy Is Still Very Much Alive and Safely Riding the Miniature Trains in Scarborough.")

Airlines are another huge concern in that they either lose or freeze to death countless cats each year that are cruelly relegated to flying in their cargo holds. (See Cat Defender of April 7, 2009 entitled "A Pregnant Minskin Arrives in Oregon Frozen as Solid as a Block of Ice Following a Fatal Cross-Country Flight in the Cargo Hold of an Airliner.")

Cats have even been accidentally sent through the post and, presumably, other package delivery services as well. (See Cat Defender post of July 21, 2008 entitled "Janosch Survives Being Sent Through the Post from Bayern to the Rhineland.")

The Kittens Were All Tuckered Out after the Big Celebration on April 21st

It is however cats such as Emily, China, Spice, Ginger, and Mandarin that become trapped inside the holds of cargo ships and are thus transported halfway around the world that receive the greatest amount of attention from the media. (See Cat Defender posts of December 9, 2005, May 17, 2007, July 16, 2007, August 11, 2008, and September 8, 2010 entitled, respectively, "An Adventurous Wisconsin Cat Named Emily Makes an Unscheduled Trip to France in the Hold of a Cargo Ship,""A North Carolina Shelter Is Plotting to Kill a Cat That Survived Being Trapped for Thirty-Five Days in the Cargo Hold of a Ship from China,""Accidentally Trapped in a Shipping Crate, a Calico Cat Named Spice Survives a Nineteen-Day Sea Voyage from Hawaii to San Bernardino,""Trapped Inside a Crate, Ginger Laps Up Condensation in Order to Survive a Nightmarish Sea Voyage from China to Nottinghamshire," and "Mandarin Survives a Long and Harrowing Sea Voyage from China to Canada Only to Wind Up in Hock to the Calgary Humane Society.")

Cats that live through such grueling and death-defying ordeals are the exceptions to the rule, however, in that the number of them that perish under such circumstances, such as Malli, surely must be off the charts. (See Cat Defender posts of March 21, 2008 and April 25, 2008 entitled, respectively, "Malli Survives a Thirty-Two-Day Voyage from Johor Bahru to Cleveland Trapped Inside a Shipping Crate" and "After Surviving a Lengthy and Hellish Confinement at Sea, Malli Dies Unexpectedly in Foster Care.")

Cats that are shanghaied aboard freighters and ferries only rarely find their way back home but both Colin's and Poussey triumphed over simply outrageously bad luck. (See Cat Defender posts of May 31, 2007 and July 25, 2014 entitled, respectively, "Port Taranaki Kills Off Its World Famous Seafaring Feline, Colin's, at Age Seventeen" and "Poussey Overcomes a Surprise Boat Ride to Dover, a Stint on Death Row, and Being Bandied About Like the Flying Dutchman in Order to Finally Make It Home to La Havre.")

Those cats who through sheer perseverance and luck are somehow able to triumph over the difficulties that they run into with the various forms of modern-day conveyance belong to a select club of less that one per cent; the remainder perish. The number of those survivors that in turn are successfully reunited with their owners, usually via implanted microchips, is even smaller.

Accordingly, if there is one area in which WTV has been remiss in its otherwise superlative care of Schneewittchen and her kittens has been in its halfhearted efforts to locate her previous owner. Assuming that media reports are accurate, the only initiatives that it has undertaken in that regard have been on social media.

Individuals and groups that spend a lion's share of their time online and on their mobile telephones are prone to committing the faux pas of assuming that the remainder of the world behaves in a similar fashion and that is just not true. On the contrary, a fair portion of people still have real jobs that they work, families and cats that they take care of, and lives of their own to lead and as a result they have little time and use for social media. They accordingly still receive the bulk of their news and information from traditional media and by mundlich.

WTV accordingly should have found out from the trucking company which German city Schneewittchen was picked up in and thereafter to have contacted local rescue groups, the media, and veterinarians. That chore could have been expeditiously and economically facilitated by sending out e-mail letters containing a photographs of Schneewittchen.

Based solely upon her appearance, demeanor, and good health, her previously owner likely is distraught over losing such a lovely cat. Furthermore, that individual could still be futilely beating the bushes for her at home while Schneewittchen is hundreds of miles away.

Despite its shortcomings in that regard, WTV has set an example as to how that all rescue groups should treat homeless cats and their kittens. The first and foremost tenet of any halfway just and humane policy toward them consists of recognizing their inalienable right to exist.

Schneewittchen and Her Kittens Together for One of the Last Times

The second objective is to provide them with the safety, shelter, sustenance, and veterinary care that they require in order to live. Finally, the third requirement consists of securing good homes for them.

"Aktuell stehen die Gesundheit und das Wachstum der Tiere im Vordergrund," the organization told the Kleine Zeitung on March 22nd. (See "Sechs Junge für einen blinden Katzen-Passagier.")

What that means is unclear but some rescue groups forcibly wean kittens at about eight weeks. Ideally, they never should be separated from their mothers.

Rather, the decision as to when to wean them should be left exclusively to their mothers. In fact, it is not uncommon for some mothers to allow their offspring to nurse for as long as a year.

Even once the weaning has been completed, some kittens remain steadfastly at their mothers' sides for the remainder of their lives. For instance, they continue to groom each other, sleep together, share parenting chores, and are practically inseparable.

It therefore would be best if WTV had both the patience and resources to sit back and allow nature to take its course but that is not about to happen. If it has not done so already, it is sure to sterilize, vaccinate, and microchip Schneewittchen and each of her kittens.

That in turn will mean the end of Schneewittchen's line. Soon after that she and her still, as far as it is known, unnamed kittens will be parceled out to various homes and they will never see each other again.

Perhaps such a sad dénouement is unavoidable under the circumstances but there can be little denying that extinguishing such a noble and healthy genetic line is a crying shame. The same likewise can be said for breaking up such a happy family. The only concession that WTV has been willing to make in that regard so far has been to announces April 22nd on its Facebook page that it is planning to adopt out the kittens in pairs.

The very best that therefore can be wished for them is that WTV will do its due diligence and place each of them in loving homes. Who knows but that there might even be a fairy prince in Schneewittchen's future. If not, perhaps she and her six kittens would be willing to accept the guardianship of seven kindhearted and benevolent dwarves, that is, if there are any of them still to be found in this old, jaded, and worn-out world.

Photos: Wiener Tierschutzverein.

Nash Van Drake Was a Casualty of a New Cold War

"The cat did it again...Supposedly he (really no one knows what day) was brought to the Porton Down lab and then...drugged. Why drugged? The answer is the cat was 'stressed,' since he was 'not noticed' in the search. Is that what the United Kingdom does with pets? Is that normal practice?"
-- Maria Zakharova of the Russian Foreign Service

Whenever that diabolical monster known as man chooses to indulge himself in his insatiable greed, his unquenchable thirst for blood, and his never-ending will to dominate, which consumes most of his time and energies, it is always cats, other animals, and Mother Earth that are forced to bear the brunt  of his evildoing. Unlike civilian casualties, who nowadays are lumped together underneath the belittling rubric of collateral damage, they are denied even that grudging tidbit of recognition; rather, they are relegated to the ranks of the uncounted and unmourned whose lives and habitats count for absolutely nothing.

With that being the case, it is not the least bit surprising that the English authorities have killed off Sergei and Yulia Skripal's long-haired black Persian, Nash Van Drake, and two of their unnamed guinea pigs. Whereas the near fatal poisoning of the double agent and his daughter with the nerve agent novichok in Salisbury, one-hundred-forty-two kilometers south of London in Wiltshire, on March 4th has attracted worldwide interest and condemnation, it is in keeping with the Zeitgeist that the killings of Nash and the guinea pigs have gone largely unnoticed outside of England and Russia. Even what little information that has leaked out of the former has been elliptical, contradictory, nonsensical and, in some respects, patently untruthful.

Nonetheless, as best the story can be pieced together from the slipshod reporting of the governmental lackeys on Fleet Street, the Skripals lived in a brick compound that they shared with Nash and another unidentified cat that they reportedly adopted from a local shelter. In at least one press report, Nash is referred to as Masyanya, which is the moniker of a female protagonist in a popular web-based Russian cartoon series.

It therefore could be that the second cat is a female who bears that name in that it would be odd for the Skripals to have bestowed a girl's name upon a tomcat. That is strictly conjecture, however.

They also owned a black dog and the aforementioned pair of guinea pigs. (See the Daily Mail, April 5, 2018, "Russian Spy's Cat Was Secretly Put Down: Vets Killed 'Distressed' Black Persian and Found Two Guinea Pigs Dead at Sergei Skripal's Home after Poison Attack.")

The dog allegedly was later found at an undisclosed location outside the compound but nothing has been divulged about the second cat. Even if they initially were able to have survived the horrifying events of March 4th and their immediate aftermath, that does not mean that they are still alive today.

After the Skripals were discovered unconscious on a park bench and rushed to Salisbury District Hospital their compound was sealed by the authorities and declared to be off limits to the public. It never has been definitely stated one way or the other if the authorities initially were aware of the presence of Nash and the other animals.

Nash and Yulia Skripal

Even if they were in the dark, the Skripals' longtime veterinarian, fifty-six-year-old Howard Taylor of The Vets at 123 Exeter Street, quickly remedied that situation. "We (sic) phoned the police on day one to offer to help if they needed it," he averred to The Sun on March 17th. (See "Russian Spy Sergei Skripal's Pet Cat and Guinea Pigs Are Taken Away for Tests.")"I thought it unlikely the police would have gone to the house and not done anything."

That is certainly true enough in that what they did was to seize them and transport them to the Ministry of Defense's ultra-secretive Defense Science and Technology Laboratory (DSTL) in the village of Porton, eleven kilometers north of Salisbury, where they were promptly killed and their corpses burned to ashes. Although it surely must have known almost immediately of that tragic dénouement, it was not until April 5th that The Sun finally got around to cluing in the reading public as to what had transpired. (See "Russian Spy Sergei Skripal's Cat Is the First Fatality after Nerve Agent Attack in Salisbury.")

In an amateurish attempt designed to justify its commission of such appalling atrocities, the English elites and their stooges on Fleet Street have presented two contradictory explanations. For instance in its April 5th report, The Sun claims that Nash was "very unwell" and "severely malnourished."

A day later on April 6th, The Independent chimed in by declaring that he was "in a distressed state" and in "so much pain that a vet decided to put it (sic) down." The paper further alleges that the guinea pigs died of dehydration. (See "Russia Implies United Kingdom Destroyed Poisoned Spy Sergei Skripal's Cat and Guinea Pigs to 'Remove Important Witnesses'.")

Knowing the timeline of events would be helpful in unraveling this conundrum but even without that vital piece of information neither scenario put forward by either the government or Fleet Street stands up to even cursory scrutiny. Still, for whatever it is worth, The Sun reported on April 5th that the authorities broke into the Skripals' compound "shortly after the March 4th attack" wherein they discovered the presence of, at least, Nash and the guinea pigs.

Yet, those professional liars would have the outside world to believe that Nash already was "severely malnourished." That does not make any sense at all given that the Skripals were dedicated cat-lovers and had money to burn.

Plus, The Sun earlier on March 17th had reported that Nash was valued at £1,500 and that the Skripals had shelled out thousands more in order to ship him from Moscow to Salisbury. That exorbitant tally sans doute included thousand of pounds in quarantine fees that the English charge all individuals who import their cats with them. (See Cat Defender post of August 18, 2008 entitled "Ronaldo Escapes Death after a Retailer Coughs Up the Exorbitant Bounty That Quarantine Officials Had Placed on His Head.")

Nash and the Guinea Pigs

In spite of all of that, the arrogant English elites and Fleet Street contend that the Skripals not only starved Nash to death but allowed their guinea pigs to die of thirst. Given that it is a violation of law to neglect animals, it is surprising that the authorities that have not brought charges against the Skripals. It additionally is odd that they would not have also mistreated their second cat and their dog in a similar fashion.

It is difficult to know exactly what to make of the authorities' allegation that Nash was "very unwell,""in a distressed state," and in "pain" because so little is known about novichok. As far as it has been disclosed, however, in this particular case only a small amount of it was found on the doorknob of the Skripals' front portal and it was in a liquid form.

"In this instance, direct contact is required for a person to (be) poisoned," a spokesman for the Department of Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (DEFRA) told The Independent on April 17th. (See "Nerve Agent Used to Poison Sergei and Yulia Skripal Was Delivered in 'Liquid Form,' Says DEFRA.")"Only a small proportion of the material is transferred in each contact and the substance is diluted in each secondary or tertiary contact."

That would tend to indicate that since Nash was confined indoors he did not at any time come into direct contact with the novichok that had been smeared on the doorknob. He possibly could have inhaled a lethal amount of it as the Skripals were leaving the house but that, too, seems a bit far-fetched.

"The class of nerve agent does not produce significant vapor or gas and can only be moved between sites by direct transfer from a contaminated person or by moving a contaminated item," the spokesman for DEFRA continued to The Independent.

Based upon the limited amount of information available, it is difficult to say with one-hundred per cent certainty, but it nevertheless appears that the authorities' claims about Nash being "distressed" and in "pain" were nothing more than big, fat, self-serving lies. If so, they murdered him without just cause and in cold blood.

They did so simply because he and the guinea pigs had been found at the site of a nerve agent attack. Their death warrants likewise were probably initialed without the benefit of either thorough veterinary examinations or a finding of contamination. That it turn makes it highly improbable that the authorities spared the lives of the Skripals' other cat and their black dog.

What Has Become of Yulia's Unidentified Dog?

For its part, the English government has served up a proverbial feast of balderdash for the world to slobber over until its chokes. "When a vet was able to access the property, two guinea pigs had sadly died. A cat was also found in a distressed state and a decision was taken by a veterinary surgeon to euthanize the animal to alleviate its suffering," an unidentified governmental mouthpiece ballyhooed to The Independent on April 6th. "The decision was taken in the best interests of the animal and its welfare."

If that should by any chance sound familiar it is because it is the same old malarkey that all cat killers hide behind regardless of whether they be veterinarians, shelter operators, governmental officials, or even their owners. C'est-à-dire, most cats, the young as well as the old and the healthy as well as the sickly, are better off dead as far as those rotters are concerned.

The veterinarian who killed Nash has not been publicly identified but presumably it was not Taylor. Even so, Old Taylor Thing comes away from this sorry affair smelling more like sulphur than a rose.

"He (Skripal) used The Vets for some years and I had seen his cats and his guinea pigs," he candidly admitted to The Sun on March 17th. Even so, he never forged either any moral or professional bonds with the doomed animals in that there is not so much as a scintilla of evidence in the public record to even suggest that he interceded on their behalves.

Au contraire, he ratted them out to their assassins and then stood idly back and watched as they were liquidated. If, by contract, he had given so much as a rat's ass about their welfare and inalienable right to live he would have, if necessary, gone to court in order to have saved their lives.

So far, the high-muck-a-mucks from Downing Street have gotten away scot-free with their hideous crimes but they have not succeeded in pulling the wool over the eyes of Maria Zakharova of the Russian Foreign Ministry. "According to the publication, the guinea pigs and the cat were cremated," she told The Independent in the April 6th article cited supra."In other words destroyed, although the animals could be important evidence in the poisoning case."

From that demarcation point she went on to give the hypocritical, lying English the dressing down that they so richly deserved. The cat did it again...Supposedly he (really no one knows what day) was brought to the Porton Down lab and then...drugged. Why drugged?" she speculated to The Independent. "The answer is the cat was 'stressed,' since he was 'not noticed' in the search. Is that what the United Kingdom does with pets? Is that normal practice?"

The Skripals' Compound

The answer to both of her rhetorical questions is a resounding yes. First of all, although they publicly claim to be big fans of the species, they actually care very little for cats and that is exhibited by the large number of them that they callously and inexcusably turn loose in the street every day to be mowed down by their equally ailurophobic fellow motorists.

Secondly, the English's disdain for cats and other animals was most recently demonstrated in June of last year when Grenfell Tower in West London went up in flames and killed dozens of its residents. Yet to this very day neither the authorities nor Fleet Street have publicly acknowledged how many cats and other animals perished in the inferno. (See Cat Defender post of July 3, 2017 entitled "Paucho Somehow Made It Out of Grenfell Tower Alive but the Fate of the Dozens of Cats That Resided at the High-Rise Firetrap Remains Shrouded in Secrecy.")

Thirdly, even when the English do take an interest in the welfare of cats it usually is only in order to satisfy their own narrow, self-interest and that petit fait is nowhere more readily observable than in the exploitative behavior of the politicians who reside and work on Downing Street. For instance, it certainly did not take Tony and Cherie Blair long to give the boot to Humphrey. (See Cat Defender post of April 6, 2006 entitled "Humphrey, the Cat from 10 Downing Street Who Once 'Read' His Own Obituary, Passes Away at Age Eighteen.")

Sybil, who was owned by Chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling, was quickly given the bum's rush by the cat-hating Gordon Brown and she, tragically, died shortly thereafter in exile. (See Cat Defender posts of September 19, 2007 and August 13, 2009 entitled, respectively, "After a Dreary Ten-Year Absence, Number 10 Downing Street Has a New Residence Feline and Her Name Is Sybil" and "Sybil, 10 Downing Street's Former First Feline, Dies Unexpectedly from an Undisclosed Illness.")

Larry arrived at 10 Downing Street in early 2011 but he enjoyed at best a lukewarm relationship with David Cameron. (See Cat Defender posts of July 21, 2011, November 28, 2011, and August 1, 2016 entitled, respectively, "Larry Faces Many Challenges and Dangers in His New Rôle as 10 Downing Street's Resident Feline,""Larry Is Persevering as Best He Can Despite Being Constantly Maligned by Both Fleet Street and the Prime Minister's Duplicitous Staff," and "Unmercifully Maligned and Treated Like Dirty for So Many Years, Larry Nevertheless Manages to Stick Around Long Enough in Order to See the Last of David Cameron and His Uncaring Family.")

Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne turned Freya loose to roam the dangerously congested streets of Whitehall at all hours of the night with predictably life-threatening results until he finally got rid of her for good. (See Cat Defender posts of November 10, 2014 and November 13, 2014 entitled, respectively, "Freya, the Chancellor of the Exchequer's Resident Feline, Cheats Death Once Again When She Survives Being Mowed Down and Injured by a Motorist but Her Good Luck Cannot Last for Much Longer" and "Gutless Georgie 'Porgie' Osborne Gets Rid of Freya but in Doing So Lies About the True Reason Behind His Second Cruel Abandonment of Her.")

More recently, the Foreign Affairs Office has added Palmerston to its staff and current Chancellor of the Exchequer Philip Hammond now has Gladstone. (See Cat Defender posts of August 8, 2016 and August 17, 2017 entitled, respectively, "Palmerston is Recruited for a Prestigious Post in Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service but Then Disgracefully Relegated to Makeshift Living Quarters Out in the Cold" and "Gladstone Joins Larry and Palmerston as Whitehall's Latest Resident Feline but the Chancellor of the Exchequer's Welsh Terrier, Rex, Is Waiting in the Wings to Put an End to All of Them.")

Yulia and Sergei Skripal Lived High on the Hog

Shortly thereafter, Evie and her son, Ossie, joined the staff of the Cabinet Office at 70 Whitehall Street. (See The Telegraph, December 9, 2016, "New Cats Evie and Ossie Join Westminster Moggies as Cabinet Office Mousers" and The Sun, December 9, 2016, "Meow-ing Street Number 10 Brings in Two New Cats, Evie and Ossie, to Help Catch Mice in the Cabinet Office.")

As it was the case with Taylor's abandonment of Nash and the guinea pigs, the presence of no fewer than five resident felines at the heart of the English government has failed to instill any sense of either a common morality or an appreciation of their intrinsic worth with the politicians. Rather, they simply use and exploit them as convenient and inexpensive public relations' props in order to make  themselves appear to be something other than the miserable rotters and moral degenerates that they are in reality.

That is not merely a pedestrian prejudice but rather it is an opinion that is shared by former MI6 spy and current bestselling novelist, John le Carré. Here, for instance, is what his fictional spymaster George Smiley had to say about the entire lot of them in le Carré's 1990 novel, The Secret Pilgrim:

"The privately educated Englishman is the greatest dissembler on earth. No one will charm you so glibly, disguise his feelings from you better, cover his tracks more skillfully, or find it harder to confess that he's been a damned fool. No one acts braver when he's frightened stiff or happier when he's miserable. And nobody will flatter you better when he hates you than an extrovert Englishman or woman."

With the Skripals hardly being in any condition to complain about what was done to Nash and their guinea pigs, that task has fallen by default to none other than PETA. "These deaths are another tragedy of this horrific situation, and this time, the British authorities are evidently to blame," the organization's Elisa Allen gingerly ventured to The Independent on April 6th. (See "'United Kingdom Authorities to Blame' for 'Tragic' Death of Sergei Skripal's Pets in Sealed Home, PETA Says.")"No one should have left these animals sealed inside the house any more than they would have done children -- clearly, they should have been rescued."

The organization accordingly is demanding action. PETA is "calling for an investigation to be carried out in order to determine how this was allowed to happen and (to) ensure that procedures are put in place to prevent any such loss of lives -- which were valued by the Skripals and the animals themselves -- from ever happening again," she concluded.

To say that those sentiments are more than a tad ironic would be to grossly understate the case. For example, PETA not only kills practically every cat that it gets its blood-drenched hands on but it insists over and over again that the lives of all homeless cats do not have any value whatsoever.

The Skripals Had a Busy Day on March 4th

Much more to the point, it surely would have killed Nash and the Skripals' other animals if it had gotten to them ahead of the goons from Downing Street. (See Cat Defender posts of January 29, 2007, February 9, 2007, October 7, 2011, and August 24, 2017 entitled, respectively, "PETA's Long History of Killing Cats and Dogs Is Finally Exposed in a North Carolina Courtroom,""Verdict in PETA Trial: Littering Is a Crime but Not the Mass Slaughter of Innocent Cats and Dogs,""PETA Traps and Kills a Cat and Then Shamelessly Goes Online in Order to Brag about its Criminal and Foul Deed," and "The Brutal Murders of a Trio of Atlantic City's Boardwalk Cats Provide an Occasion for the Local Rag and PETA to Whoop It Up and to Break Open the Champagne.")


The Independent's solicitation of PETA's hypocritical two cents' worth does demonstrate, however, that the capitalist media not only sucks up to those in power but also to phony-baloney animal rights groups as well. As The Independent knows only too well, Ingrid E. Newkirk and her minions never have done anything even remotely positive for cats and they certainly do not speak for them and their supporters in any shape, form, or fashion.

The only positive thing that can be said for the organization is that it has demonstrated the gumption to take the English establishment to task over the killing of Nash and the guinea pigs and that is considerably more than can be said for any other animal rights group located in Angleterre. It is even conceivable that the Skripals' second cat was adopted from Cats Protection's branch in Salisbury but yet that organization has had absolutely nothing to say about either her or the killing of Nash.

Yulia was released from the hospital several weeks ago and is said to be convalescing at an undisclosed location somewhere in England. Her father remains hospitalized but he is said to be in stable condition.

Besides the Skripals' house, Zizzi, an Italian restaurant at 1/3 Castle Street, Bishops Mill Pub at 7 The Maltings, the entire Maltings shopping center, the residence of detective sergeant Nick Bailey, two sites near the Bourne Hill Police Station, a pair of ambulance stations, and a car compound are still designated as possibly being contaminated with novichok. No arrests have been made in this case and that task has been made all the more difficult by the Russians' demolition of a factory in Shikhany, nine-hundred-sixty-five kilometers south of Moscow, which is believed to have manufactured the novichok that was used in order to poison the Skripals. (See the Express, April 29, 2018, "Russia Destroys Novichok Nerve Center Ahead of Salisbury Poison Spy Probe.")

Despite the English's reprehensible killing of Nash and the guinea pigs, there does not appear to be much doubt that the Russians were behind the attack upon the Skripals. There is "no alternative explanation about who was responsible -- only Russia has the means, motive and record," an official from the Foreign Office on Downing Street declared to The Independent in the April 17th article cited supra.

By past record, that official was referring to the murder of defector Alexander Litvinenko in the Bloomsbury section of London back in 2006 by a pair of Russian spies. In his case, however, it was not novichok but rather a cup of radioactive tea that was his undoing.

Nash Van Drake's Cathouse Is Now Vacant and Destined to Remain So

With establishments such as Claridge's in Mayfair commanding as much as £60 for a spot of tea with a finger sandwich thrown in for good measure, that is another good reason to refrain from doing any cupping while in London. If the Russians do not poison a person to death, the exorbitant prices are sure to do the trick.

Then there is the matter of the simply outrageously lengthy and expensive quarantine requirements that the authorities impose upon visiting cats to consider when contemplating a trip to England. Taken altogether, however, being stripped of one's cat and not being able to afford the price of a cup of tea combine to make the island nation an unappealing destination.

The superficial conclusion to be drawn from the events of March 4th and their aftermath is that the Russians do not have any regard for human life whereas their English counterparts are equally depraved when it comes to the lives of cats and other animals. Such an assessment is far too charitable, however, in that neither of the belligerents actually has very much regard for the sanctity of life period.

For example, although the Russians may not have intended for any harm to have come to Nash and the guinea pigs, by smearing novichok on the Skripals' front door they set in motion a chain of events that led precisely to that dénouement. Even worse, their alleged supplying of the regime of Bashar al-Assad in Damascus with chemical weapons has unquestionably led to the horrific death of untold numbers of cats and other animals as well as the contamination of the environment.

In its quest to conquer the world, England historically never has demonstrated much regard for human rights. Rather, its empire builders have systematically subjugated, exploited, and annihilated nation after nation.

In doing so, the filth that it has expelled from its shores have committed some of the most diabolical crimes on record against cats and other animals in such places as Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and the south Atlantic. (See Cat Defender post of November 18, 2016 entitled "A Clever Devil at the University of Adelaide Boasts That He Has Discovered the Achilles' Heel of Cats with His Invention of Robotic Grooming Traps as the Thoroughly Evil Australians' All-Out War Against the Species Enters Its Final Stages.")

In the final accounting, however, the crimes that man commits against the animals and the environment are far more egregious than those that he perpetrates against his fellows. That is principally the case because most men are capable, at least to some extent, of not only anticipating but also of defending themselves against the aggressions of their fellows but that is hardly the case with the animals and Mother Earth.

Consequently, if that were not the case, it perhaps would be à propos to conclude that the English and Russians richly deserve each other and to leave the matter at that; a bon chat, bon rat and may the worst man prevail. Other considerations, however, preclude such ambivalence, even if in the end they are destined not to make one whit of difference.

Photos: The Mirror (Nash), Facebook (Nash and Yulia, Nash and the guinea pigs, and Sergei and Yulia drinking), The Sun (Yulia's dog, the Skripals' compound, itinerary, and Nash and his cathouse).

Tinka Has Been Waiting to Be Adopted for More Than Two Years

"Wir schatzen sie auf mindstens Zehn Jahre, und es wäre so schön, wenn sie ein liebevolles Zuhause findet und nicht länger ihr Dasein im Tierschutz fristen muss."
-- Kerstin Küster of Hände für Pfoten

A beautiful ten-year-old black female with a dainty white nose and a matching breast named Tinka has been cruelly sentenced to spend to spend the past two years of her life at a shelter in the Arnum section of Hemmingen, six kilometers south of Hannover in Niedersachsen. Every bit as troubling, there does not appear to be any white knight in shining armor in her immediate future who is going to intervene and magically put an end to her travails.

Not a great deal has been publicly divulged about her past but at one time she did have not only a guardian but one with a garden for her to romp in as well. "Leider hatte dieser jedoch schon eine Freigänger-Katze, und die beiden vertrugen sich gar nicht," Kerstin Küster of Hände für Pfoten (HfP) told the Hannoverische Allgemeine on May 10th. (See "Sensible Tinka sucht ein ruhiges Zuhause.")

It therefore is most likely safe to assume that she did not last for very long in that particular home because it would be unusual, although not totally unheard of, for an individual to get rid of a longtime resident feline in favor of a newcomer. If that were indeed the case, it is entirely possible that she has been shuttled between multiple households during her lifetime.

Not surprisingly, by the time that she turned up at HfP in April of 2016 she was an emotional wreck. That was so much the case that she did not want anything to do with either the staffers or the other cats at the facility.

If she had had the Unglück to have ended up at almost any shelter in the Vereinigten Staaten, her lack of congeniality would have resulted in an almost certain death sentence. Mercifully, there are some shelters and individuals in this world who think and behave differently.

In Tinka's case, staffers at HfP turned her around, not by lavishing her with treats, but rather by "das olle, klebrige und ungepflegte Fell loszuwerden." After that, she slowly began to voluntarily leave her cage and to sit with the other cats.

It also was immensely helpful that HfP provides its feline inmates with a garden for their enjoyment. "Heute darf sie sogar, als einzige überhaupt, in den Garten," Küster added to the Hannoverische Allgemeine.

Even though the dedicated staff at HfP has worked wonders with her and she indeed has made remarkable progress since her arrival, the emotional scars engendered by her turbulent past are seldom far from the surface. "Sie ist eine sehr vorsichtige, ängestliche, sensible Katze, die schnell überfordert ist," Küster told the Hannoverische Allgemeine.

Given that she is not only quiet and sensible but also getting on in years, HfP would prefer to place her in a home with and elderly caretaker who is knowledgeable about cats. She would not fare well in a house full of loud, rambunctious, and obnoxious children but it is believed that she would get along fine with an elderly and quiet dog so long as it left her alone.

As far as other cats are concerned, the charity has been considerably less forthcoming on that matter and instead has only stated that they would not be essential for her happiness. Considering her past history, however, placing her in a home with other cats would be problematic at best.

Since she prizes her freedom and the great outdoors, a home with a garden would be crucial to her happiness. She accordingly needs a caretaker who is able to stay home with her and thus to stroke, treat, and groom her throughout the day.

In spite of her belated adjustment to life behind bars at HfP, the fact remains that a shelter is not a suitable domicile for most cats. "Wir schatzen sie auf mindstems Zehn Jahre, und es wäre so schön, wenn sie ein liebevolles Zuhause findet und nicht länger ihr Dasein im Tierschutz fristen muss," Küster summed up to the Hannovische Allgemeine.

Tinka's trials and tribulations also serve as a rather poignant reminder of just how far the care of cats still has to go before it could even begin to approach a level that could even remotely be considered humane and compassionate. As things now stand, the world's treatment and thinking about them belongs in the Stone Age.

Most outrageous of all, the inalienable right of all cats and kittens to live remains outside the purview of the law. As a consequence, they continue to be annihilated in droves.

Even those fortunate enough to steer clear of society's killing fields often later fall victim to a lack of shelter, food, and veterinary care. C'est-à-dire, if they are not done in by the former, the latter is sooner or later sure to do the trick.

Even those cats blessed with owners do not fare all that much better. That is because, first of all, a large percentage of them are denied access to the great outdoors and instead are imprisoned for life in toxic and boring indoor environments.

Secondly, most of them nowadays are sterilized and even some of them are divested of their claws. Thirdly, their tiny bodies are invaded time and time again by greedy, unscrupulous veterinarians in order to administer unnecessary vaccinations as well as to implant often harmful microchips.

Fourthly and most egregious of all, once they become either elderly, sickly, or their presence is no longer desired, their owners simply pay veterinarians to whack them.

That long laundry list of simply outrageous cruelties and unconscionable abuse is old news, however. What Tinka's dilemma has focused attention on is mankind's totally inexcusable failure to even begin to acknowledge that all cats are individuals with different psychological makeups and histories.

Unless man can somehow be prevailed upon to stop looking down his crooked, disjointed schnoz at cats as only an aggregate of defenseless animals that he is at liberty to malign, exploit, abuse, and kill at will, little if any progress is ever going to be made in improving their lot in life. Au contraire, the naked abuse of the species is destined to continue unabated.

Through its willingness not only to spare Tinka's life but also to recognize her unique personality and history, HfP has taken an important first step on what is destined to be a long and winding road that will, hopefully, culminate in dramatically improving the lives of cats. It remains to be seen, however, just how many shelters and rescue groups are going to be willing to follow in its footsteps.

Finally, it goes almost without saying that Tinka would make a splendid addition to the life of any true lover of the species. For anyone still in need of convincing, it is important to remember that a loving and permanent home is nothing less than what she so richly deserves considering all the upheaval and turbulence that she she has been forced to endure.

Outfitted with the proper guardian and environment, it is beyond question that she soon would come out of her shell and blossom into the very special cat that she always has wanted to be if only the vicissitudes of life would have permitted. Anyone who therefore would be willing to offer Tinka a permanent home can contact HfP by telephone at 49-511-5101-58362 or by e-mail at info@haende-fuer-pfoten.net.

Photo: Kerstin Küster of Hände für Pfoten.