ARTICLE: A New Arrival In My Life

IMAGE SOURCE~©MELANIE NEER~PERSONAL PHOTO

Composite photo of "Ouija"

This article was originally written for the Bubblews website on May 7, 2013, which no longer exists

The very first article I wrote here at Bubblews was about the grief I felt with the passing of my black cat Pyewacket three years ago. I've had cats since I was five years old, and have loved them all, but some pets stick in our hearts more and have a more special meaning to our lives. In the case of Pyewacket, he seemed to have come into my life when it was the most turbulent, it was almost as if his arrival in my life at that particular time was to act as a helper during those years.

Deep inside I knew I wanted to adopt another cat, specifically a black cat, as throughout my life, on and off, I've had black cats. I never had any superstitions about black cats, especially about them being bad luck, if anything I considered them good luck and had a unique quality all their own. Still, as much as I longed to get another black cat, I just couldn't bring myself to do so. I still had my Kissy, a grey tabby and she became "queen" of the domain for nearly three years.

Then beginning last year I was starting to have what could only be described as "panicky" thoughts. Those rather dumb thoughts that circulate in one's mind over and over again. You see I was realizing that Kissy was getting on in years, she's 13 years old. And yes, I'm hoping and praying she has many, many more years of life with me, but that panicky thought came that, OMG, what if I wake up one day and found she was gone from my life. When Pyewacket died I feel into a deep depression and was almost non-functional, so the idea that Kissy might pass on would be too much for me to bear.

Then around October of last year, there was an on-line auction with the Grayson County Humane Society in Leitchfield, KY over at Facebook. There were a variety of items one could bid on, but there was also the opportunity to be a cosponsor for one of the cats at their shelter. I came across one such cat, named "Dot"…he was primarily black but with a white "dot" on his chest, so I chose him to cosponsor along with two other people. Time moved on and I thought to myself, well why not take it to the next level? Why not, instead of just being a cosponsor, why not adopt him?

It took about a month in the making. I filled out the on-line application and crossed my fingers that my application for adoption went through and was accepted. It was. Now came the tricky part. I couldn't have him right away, as transportation had to be arranged as the Grayson County Humane Society, and thus "Dot" was in KY…I'm here in the NYC area. But yes, transportation was arranged for not only Dot but for several other pets who were being transported to their new forever homes as far as Maine!

On December 1, 2012, Dot officially came to my home. Kissy who is timid and will hide when strangers are about and she did indeed hide when the transporter came to my place…Kissy had no idea what she was in for. Lindsey the transporter let Dot out of the carrier and he came trotting right over to me as if we were old buddies and had been in my life all along. I was hoping that Lindsey could have stayed a bit longer, but she had to start the trek back to KY. So now it was just me and Dot, and of course, Kissy. Dot began investigating all over the place as if to check it out, in fact he explored the bedroom and hopped on my bed…LOL..this cat was taking over the joint!

I soon discovered that Dot didn't just have a white dot on his chest, but also some white on his "armpits" area and white on the lower part of his stomach. I also realized I really didn't care for his shelter name, I wanted something different. I was thinking of renaming him Shadow, but already had had a Shadow in years past, then thought of Salem, nope, then Binx, as in the name of the boy in the movie Hocus Pocus that had been turned into a black cat; nope, didn't care for that either. I was even tempted to maybe call him Pyewacket II…that idea quickly dissolved. About two nights after Dot had come into my life, it hit me. I was drifting off to sleep and the word Ouija struck me…this, Dot became Ouija.

Ouija isn't exactly a "kitten", I'm figuring he's about a year old already, but he sure as heck has kitten energy and definitely keeps me on my toes; he follows me around like a puppy dog, is very, very affectionate and loves to keep me company while I'm sleeping.

How does my Kissy take to Ouija? Uh, not too well. Even though some months have passed, she continues to hiss and growl at him, and maybe even swat him on the head when he comes near her. I often feel sorry for Ouija since I sense since he sees another kitty in the house he simply wants to play with her. I can at least be thankful that there hasn't been WWIII here, and sometimes I even catch them side by side eating from the same plate of food, even though I have two separate plates for them. I've come to the realization that the two of them aren't going to be cuddle bugs.

The photo I include here is Ouija the very first day he came to me on December 1st.

UPDATE: Sadly on Septmeber 1, 2015, my other cat Kissy did indeed pass on. She was 15 years old. I used to name her "picklepuss" due to the way she never took to Ouija. I sure miss that "picklepuss" though. Composite Photo of Kissy

A VERY SPECIAL VALENTINE'S to SOMEONE I LOVE so DEAR

(Originally Published at Yahoo.Voices formerly Associated Content~2/16/2012)

Also published as a "Note" on Facebook

ABSTRACT: A Valentine's Day dedication of love from a very different perspective, and dedicated to those who have loved their pets who have passed on, and still miss them in their lives and who understand...it's "not just a cat or dog"

I just needed and wanted to let you know, that here it is Valentine's Day,
I wanted you to know just how much I have loved you
and have always loved you from the moment I met you.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
I loved all the times I cuddled up next to you, while you were lying in bed
and trying to read, yet being selfish and I didn't want you to read, since I wanted your love and attention solely on me...yes I was selfish, but that's how much I loved you.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
All those times I would cuddle up next to you on the sofa, while watching TV,
feeling safe and secure with you since I knew you loved me,
and I loved you...oh how I loved you and still do.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
And especially now I want you to know how special you were in my life
And yes, oh yes, I DO know how much you loved me, since I know you still grieve for me.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
I felt your pain and anguish, that day, that day, that took you and myself
away from us forever.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
That day that took us apart.
I felt your anguish that day.
When you realized I was gone,
You cradled me to your bosom like a baby and rocked me back and forth.
And in anguish and with tears, calling out my name over and over again,
Still not believing I was gone from your life.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
You may not see me now.
You may not hear me anymore now.
You may not feel my cuddles anymore now.
But I'm still here.
I'm still with you and will always be in your heart.

On this Valentine's Day
I just wanted you to know....

I still love you and will be with you always.

Love all my love,
Pyewacket

©Melanie Neer~I dedicate this to all who have pets no longer in their lives and still feel the pain of their passing.

My Experience with a Mouse

(Originally published at Yahoo.voices formerly Associated Content~7/6/2009)

ABSTRACT: For a die hard cat lover it would seem strange that I would have a mouse, but I did years ago, and here is his story

CONTENT: (©Oct 26, 2008~Ciao-originally published at Ciao under my pen-name of pyewacket)

While I may have grown up in a rather dysfunctional family upbringing, there were some great blessings in being raised by my grandmother and mother, and that was they never taught me to fear any type of animal. To this day, I have an enormous respect and appreciation for all living creatures, which is probably why I'm for the most part, one of those animal rights activists.

Ever since I was five and a half years old, I've had cats, and as of this moment at age 53 I have two cats. In all those years of having cats though, I never thought that for a brief time in my life I would have another member of the animal world being a part of my household of pets...a mouse. Now for some people, the mere word mouse can give one the creepy crawlies, and if a person see a mouse in their home might go a bit ballistic. Not so with me, in fact, I rather think mice are rather cute.

My grandmother, mother and I had been living in the same apartment since 1961 and never, ever had the usual pest problems, then about a year after my grandmother died in 1986, all of a sudden we began having a mouse problem, not extensive but there nonetheless. Now most people would race to get some kind of mousetraps, but being the person I am, didn't like the idea of those glue traps, or those spring-like mouse traps...in other words I just plain didn't like the idea of killing them. My feeling was, well, they're not really bothering us or being destructive, so both my mother and I had the attitude of just letting them be.

For the most part, the little family of mice, and no it was never that many, stayed put in one section of the kitchen, that is behind the sink area. However, once in a blue moon, one or two would become brazen enough to venture out from behind the sink, and bingo, one of our cats would catch and instantly kill it. At least with our cats killing the mice, it was more in the natural order of things, rather than those mouse glue traps that would have made a mouse die a long, lingering demise, a thought I just didn't like.

With time the mouse population in our apartment greatly diminished, thanks to our "mousers". In fact, for a long time, it looked as though we no longer had any mice at all. I no longer heard the high pitched squeaks indicating we had mice. They seemed to have disappeared. Then something happened.

It was Christmas night in 1987 and I was in the kitchen washing up all the dishes from our Christmas dinner. My mother was sitting on the sofa relaxing, when all of a sudden she said, "Sachi's got one". Right away I knew what meant, that Sachiko, our black and white cat had caught a mouse. Somehow the mouse managed to run right passed me from the kitchen and into the living room, a first which had never happened before, and I hadn't even noticed.

I dashed out of the kitchen to where Sachiko was sitting proudly gripping the mouse in her mouth in triumph. Okay, so this might sound kooky, but I felt sorry for it, and gently took the mouse out of her mouth and held it in my hand. The poor thing was half dead, bleeding from it's mouth, signaling possible internal injuries. I took the half dead mouse back into the kitchen and dug up a small plastic container, lined the bottom of it with a paper towel, and laid the mouse inside.

Then a weird inspiration came to me. Since as part of our Christmas dinner that night I had prepared a traditional Plum Pudding which I had made, which meant as part of the ingredient for it, I had used Brandy. I grabbed it and poured a bit on my right index finger and gently sprinkled some of it near the mouse's mouth. Don't ask why I thought of this, but I had always remembered my great-grandmother always having Brandy around the house for "medicinal" purposes.

Well, the Brandy no doubt worked, as in about fifteen minutes, that half dead mouse "revived" and was moving all around the small plastic container. But now I had a sort of dilemma in my hands. I didn't want to release the mouse with the risk of it being caught again by our cats. So with some screening I had leftover from an old window screen, I cut part of it large enough to cover the top of the container. Before I did cover it though, I dropped some pieces of food that I thought the mouse would like, such as small cubes of bread, and dropped a few kernels of frozen corn. I placed the container with the mouse in it, inside the cabinet area under the sink temporarily as it was the only place I could think of to keep the mouse safe from the cats. To be honest, despite it's obvious recovery, I wasn't expecting the mouse to really live. I was wrong.

The next morning I woke up, opened the cabinet under the sink, and peeked into the container to be greeted by two little beady brown eyes looking right at me. He had survived and lived. Later that day, I decided that the container he was in was way too small, and went to our local pet shop to get a larger plastic type aquarium that had it's own cover, the type one might keep a small turtle in. I also stocked up on litter bedding that is used for small rodents and even bought pellet food.

Then I realized I needed a better place to keep this little mouse friend of mine rather than under the sink cabinet. At the time, I had a large metal entertainment center where my stereo turnable, receiver and speakers where, plus a huge selection of record albums. I cleared one section of the shelving where the albums were, large enough to store the aquarium, and for extra safety, placed a window screen securely in front, making it cat proof. Now the mouse had a safe place to live without my worrying about my cats getting to him. I decided to give my little rodent friend a name...Brandy.

Wanting to make Brandy as comfortable as possible and wanting to learn more about the care of keeping a mouse, I started reading up about mice. I learned that mice didn't live very long, at most maybe three years. From the size of him, I was guessing Brandy was a rather young mouse, practically a baby as he was so small. But with time, and with the care I gave him, he soon filled out to a fat, chubby mouse.

I began to have a routine each day, as I would remove the screening, take the aquarium out and take it into the bathroom, shut the door to keep the cats out, so I could completely clean out Brandy's "home". Now this might gross some people out, but in order for me to clean out his aquarium I placed it in the bathtub, removed the aquarium top and reached in and cupped him in my hands and released him in the bathtub. I did this as I didn't know if there were any small holes in the walls of the bathroom, particularly near the pole radiator, and I just didn't want to chance him finding it and dodging into it...that would be the last I would see of him then. So while I was busy cleaning out his aquarium, placing nice fresh litter bedding, and refilling his food containers, he was free to run around like a lunatic in the tub.

I must say, Brandy became rather spoiled. He didn't care for the food pellets I had bought, but had a preference for a bird seed mixture, and fresh kernels of corn. And no, mice as I was to discover, really don't care for cheese, and where this idea came from I have no idea. In another very, very small metal container, actually the top of one of my film developer tanks, I filled it with water. To keep him busy and amused I had bought him a little swing that he could climb up and down, would place the tubing of a roll of toilet paper and one of his favorite type of hiding places to go into was a small bathroom sized Dixie cup.

One of the things that might turn a person off about a mouse, is the idea that they can bite, and yes they have extremely sharp, pointed teeth, but never, not once did Brandy ever bite me. In fact, when I would let him out of his aquarium in the bathroom, I would often cup him in my hand, him sitting in my palm, nibbling away at his food with contentment. Also, and this is true whether a mouse is a common House mouse like Brandy was, or a pet mouse one can buy in a pet shop, mice are fastidiously clean creatures, always cleaning themselves, even more than a cat would. As for my cats, you can bet for a good long time they were fascinated watching him run around in his aquarium, but I guess after awhile their fascination waned, and they tended to ignore him.

If you never had anything but a "regular" type pet, that is a dog or cat, and of course you're opened minded and not afraid of the idea of owning a pet mouse, do so. They are fascinating and sometimes comical to watch, and are relatively easy to care for. And yes, do clean their environment often...I cleaned Brandy's out every day and would replace the bedding lining everyday as well as give fresh food and water.

Brandy, as it turned out, lived longer than the usual three years--he lived five, but maybe due to my faithful and loving care of him. Since I've had cats ever since I was a young girl, I've had many deaths in the "family" and each saddened me no end. But the saddest day of my life was the day, when I reached in to take his aquarium out of his safety area where I had kept him to clean it out, only to notice his still body...he had gone to Rainbow Bridge. Don't ask the buckets I cried over my little rodent friend who was no more. Who would have thought I would have loved a little mouse so much...a mouse that came into my life on Christmas so many, many years ago.

IMAGE SOURCE~©MELANIE NEER~Photo of Brandy the mouse Also published on my other blog "Writings And Ramblings of Melanie Neer"

Whoopi: A Tribute June 5, 1992 to January 31, 2009: One of My Special Cats

(Originally published at Yahoo.voices formerly Associated Content~1/31/2009)

ABSTRACT: This is a tribute to one of my former cats that is now in Rainbow Bridge

CONTENT: Many of my friends know that my mother was responsible for creating an over population of cats. Prior to that we always had a reasonable amount of furbabies, and there had been cats in our apartment since 1962 when I was only five years old.

In 1992 we had a grand total of eight cats. Then on a Thursday June 5, 1992, it was a horrid torrential rainfall and throughout the day both my mother and I could hear the pitiful meows of a young cat outside somewhere down the block from us. We both went out to try and find the kitten to at least give it food. When we finally found her, a silent mutual conclusion came to us...we had to take her home. She must have been maybe only a month or so old, so very young. She quickly adapted to our household and was the most affectionate little gal going. I named her Whoopi after one of my favorite people, Whoopi Goldberg. One of her traits was that of ear-nibbler...she would jump on my lap, raise herself up a bit to get to my ear and nibble on one, then switch and nibble on the other. Just why she did this I have no idea.

When she got old enough to be fixed I kept nudging my mother to take her to the vet. I couldn't go since the vet was quite a distance and I couldn't travel due to my disability. She kept saying, we need not bother as we weren't going to get anymore kitties. A few months later, our doorbell rang and it was one of our neighbors holding a cat in his arms and asking us if we could take it in. I repeatedly said no, as I thought nine cats total was already a lot. The two of them, my mother and the neighbor stared down at me, saying "Oh, it's only one more cat" over and over again---I gave in. It didn't take long to realize that this male cat wasn't fixed either. I kept urging my mother to take at least one of the cats, either Whoopi or the male cat, whom I named Keiko to the vet to get fixed...she didn't and to this day I still don't know why. I couldn't take them as I said due to my disability.

Well, as you can imagine what happened and on April 6, 1993 Whoopi gave birth to six kittens whom I named, Pixie, Dixie, Ashley, Shelby, Demi, E.T. Actually it was a wonderful thing to witness her giving birth to the kittens and if that had been the only litter, no problem. Then my mother's grandiose scheme was to get all the male cats fixed first. But oops, missed one and another litter of three kittens was born the following year in 1994 whom I named Lakota, Dakota and Cheyenne.

I need not go into all the details of what followed, from that time up until 2001, but lets just say we had a lot of cats on our hands and in March of 2001 we received an eviction notice from our landlord due to the staggering number of cats we had. We got great help from a lawyer and pet advocates that helped us out in adopting out many of the cats. Also, a pet rescuer, who lived upstate New York came down and took five of our cats....Whoopi was among them. Believe me I didn't want to give her up, but I knew she would be in good hands with Amy, the rescuer. One thing to this day that I'll never forget though was the look on Whoopi's face as I reached for her, hugging her for the last time before putting her in a traveling case for the rescuer to take...such sadness, as if to say, don't you want me anymore? don't you love me?...it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Of COURSE I still wanted her, but I really had no choice as the landlord due to the eviction issue had given us a stipulation agreement. We could stay in our apartment only if we kept only two cats.

So all these years, from May 1, 2001 up until now, Whoopi was in the safe hands of the pet rescuer Amy...she would even tell me that Whoopi had come to nibble on her ears as well. She kept Whoopi in her home and was never caged up, but free to roam around Amy's home.

Then a strange thing occurred though. This whole past week for some reason I kept thinking about Whoopi, and just last night I was thinking of emailing Amy today to ask her a favor. Would she let me know if and when Whoopi went to Rainbow Bridge, or as I call it Land of Bast. Then today, while scanning my emails, I came across an email from Amy which read:

Just wanted to let you know we lost Whoopie today

she was happily sleeping on her pad ( which is on a heating pad)
I was scritching her she stretched , let out a sigh and died

I miss her already

I miss her too. RIP Whoopi

©2009-This posting also appears in Pyewacketsworld which is a private blog of mine and also had appeared in Ciao.

SACHIKO: MY FIRST REAL BOTTLE BABY KITTEN

First published at Bubblews~May 17, 2014. Website no longer exists now

Also as a "Note" on Facebook

By the time 1987 rolled around I've had cats for some twenty-five years, that's right twenty-five years since my first cat I had was when I was about five years old. My first cat Babette, a "tuxedo' cat, that being a black a white cat, was a Christmas present to me from my mother. In those twenty-five years, a good number of cats had come our way, and yes, sadly many deaths in the"family". In 1987 my mother and I had a total of six cats, named Jennie, E.T., Tippy, Bobbie, Taffy and Willie. Little did I know I was to have a new arrival. Nearly everyone, especially our neighbors who knew my mother and myself knew us as the "cat people" while most of our neighbors had dogs.

On June 13, 1987, it was a typical warm summer day. Both my mother and I were home when our doorbell rang. We weren't expecting anyone but we answered the door anyway. Standing before us were a group of the neighborhood kids, two of the kids I was familiar since they lived down the block and I was friends with their mother, while the four other kids were friends of theirs. Well we invited the kids in and one of the kids was holding a box. When my mother and I peered into the box we were in for a surprise. Inside the box was a litter of six kittens, and not only were they kittens but were newborn kittens: they must have been born that very day, as not only were their eyes shut closed, ears flat against their heads, but all still had their umbilical cords attached. The one son of my friend down the block explained to me that they had all been playing, when all the kids started hearing the unmistakable sounds of the meows of kittens in the garbage area of the apartment building. Upon opening up one garbage cans, the kids were naturally horrified in discovering the boxful of kittens thrown out like so much trash. Since the two sons of my friend knew I had cats, the first person they thought of to take these little newborns was myself.

The two sons and their four friends were all interested in how to take care of such young newborn kittens and asked question after question as some of them wanted to take a kitten home and take care of it. Now first off, when I say "kids" I don't mean that any of them were in the six to eight year old range, but rather in their early teens, therefore old enough to be responsible. I did actually have some experience in taking care of a very young kitten, when during my high school years some fifteen years prior, some of my friends had come across a young kitten, and yes, as you can guess gave the kitten to me. And while not exactly a newborn kitten, Patchouli, as I was to name her, still needed to be bottle fed until completely weaned. So here I was as I began rattling off about how and what to feed such young kittens by bottle feeding every so hours, and then needing to encourage the young kitten to do it's business by gently rubbing the bottom of the kitten with a slightly moistened paper towel, which in effect was a similar action to that of the mother cat that licks the baby's bottom. The two sons took one kitten, while each of their four friends took one of the other kittens in the litter, and I took one of the kittens as well, a black kitten.

After the kids left, I now had to do a lot of scrambling around. First up, I needed to set up something to keep the newborn kitten completely safe from my older cats. I found a medium-sized cardboard container, placed a soft small towel inside the container, then dragged out one of the pet carrier cases I had. I lined the bottom of the pet carrier with a larger towel and placed the cardboard container inside the carrier case with the kitten in it, locked it up, then, since my mother no longer slept on her bed but on the sofa, I placed the entire carrier on my mother's bed.

I then quickly dashed out to the local pet store to buy a few baby bottles and KMR (Kitten Replacement Milk). I was disappointed however that the pet store, while they had the replacement milk, didn't have pet baby bottles at the time, so I stopped in another store and bought the type of plastic baby bottle that toy baby dolls have. Yes, sounds silly, but take it from me, in a pinch they will do!

Well the moment I got home, I started warming up the KMR to give the newborn kitten it's first feeding. Heaven knows how long she and her litter mates had been in that garbage can and if any of the poor newborns even had a chance in having their first taste of their own mother's milk. Once heated up slightly, I sanitized the baby doll's bottle with hot water, snipped a bit of the top of the nipple of the bottle and carefully poured in the KMR. With bottle in hand, a slightly moistened paper towel and a small terry-cloth towel, now was time to feed the kitten. Gently taking her out of the pet carrier I wrapped her up into the small towel. There seemed to be no need to try and encourage the newborn to drink the milk, for as you can imagine the kitten was absolutely starving and began sucking on the bottle right away. After her feeding, I began rubbing her bottom to encourage her to make her "business" and placed her back into the cardboard container and then in the pet carrier. When several hours passed by, the routine began all over again. I had to feed her every two hours or so, day and night. Believe me when I say, that taking care of such an infant animal is just as demanding as taking care of an infant human baby. Can we say sleep deprived?

This new routine of mine was to last several weeks to come until the kitten, whom by now I had named Sachiko, was completely weaned. One thing I do have to mention about while I was taking care of Sachiko and when I think of it, was rather comical and just why I did it, eludes me. Newborn kittens have their eyes completely shut, therefore can't see, they also have their ears flattened down near their heads and aren't' able to hear either. However they do have a keen sense of smell. Often, while Sachiko was still in the non-seeing, non-hearing phase, there would be times I would have to go into the bedroom to get something, and here I'd be quietly sneaking in, not making a noise. Why I haven't a clue since as I said, she couldn't see or hear me yet, but yes, she had that keen sense of smell and no doubt smelled my scent. She had quickly imprinted the fact that my scent represented "mom" to her; I was her mother, she had known no other.

Sachiko was to grow into a healthy, strong and beautiful black cat whom she had just a touch of white on her chest. No doubt due to the fact that I had raised her from such a young infant age, she became what I call a "velcro" cat, meaning she bonded with me rather intensely. Had the experience in raising her from newborn stage been time demanding? Yes it was, but it was also a joy to do and an experience that even after all these years, I'll never forget.

Sachiko~June 13, 1987~September 7, 1999

Photo~©MELANIE NEER~Sachiko at 17 days old

Originally Published at Bubblews on May 17, 2014 but website no longer exists

My Love Of Black Cats ~~ June 17~Black Cats Are Beautiful Day

(©Melanie Neer~~To be published via Yahoo.voices)

I've had a love for black cats ever since I can remember, in fact, my very first cat, Babette, was a "tuxedo" cat that my mother adopted as a Christmas present for me when I was only five years old. Since then and throughout my life while I've had other types of cats, there have always, but always been black cats as part of my "family". There most certainly is an allure to the black cat. In my opinion they have a unique "catitude" all their own; perhaps they in a sense feel and recognize themselves to be "mini" panthers.

Growing up I obviously was never aware of the stigma or superstitions that have surrounded black cats for centuries. Maybe it was due to the fact that in my early childhood I've always had a great love for the Ancient Egyptian culture. Naturally I was aware of how cats in general were worshipped during that time; then of course there was the female cat goddess Bast, often depicted as a woman with a cat's head, but also of course simply as a cat. During Ancient Egyptian times, cats were so highly regarded and held sacred, that to kill a cat was punishable by death. Since black cats were rather rare during that time period most often statues of Bast were, yes, as you can guess, black cats. Unfortunately, with the passage of time, things went downhill for the feline species, and especially for black cats.

Erroneous beliefs began to crop up via early Christianity and during the Medieval period that black cats were evil and most often associated with "witches". Who can forget that part of history of how cats were rounded up and killed by the hundreds, if not the thousands. This of course, had a negative effect; without the cats to kill off the rodents, the spread of the virus occurred, known of course as the Black Plague.

As a bit of historical trivia, take the name "Pyewacket" for instance, most often associated with the name of the Siamese cat in the classic 1958 movie, Bell, Book and Candle; yet in reality, the name Pyewacket was first mentioned and known in England, and yes, as a black cat and a familiar to a witch back in 1644.

Black cats therefore, were forever considered evil, unlucky, especially if one crossed your path and as the devil's messengers. Ironically however, no such belief about black cats would exist in Celtic cultures, in fact, in those countries a black cat was considered the opposite, that is, "lucky". Yet all in all, black cats still have the stigma of being unlucky, even in our own USA, so much so, that black cats are the least unlikely to be adopted from shelters. Not only are black cats the least likely to be adopted, but even today are often targets of sick individuals who will torture or kill black cats and especially during the month of October.

Over at Facebook, I'm one of those animal activist/advocates; among other things, I regularly and daily crosspost the urgent cats needing to be rescued/saved/pulled/fostered from shelters, particularly high kill shelters. I became all too well aware of how black cats were the highest in number being listed on "death row", that is to be euthanized (a nice polite way of saying killed) since, as I've mentioned, black cats are the least likely to be adopted due to the old superstitions. One thing I did notice however, on a more positive note was that no doubt other people found a beauty in black cats also, and over at Facebook are scores of groups, pages and even "events" dedicated to the black cat to honor and glorify their unique beauty.

Some two years ago I decided to start my own group at Facebook, of which I call Black Cats Are Beautiful. Here people can join my group and share pictures of their own black cats both past and present, share stories about black cats, post cute Cheezeburger black cats photos, and in general, celebrate the beauty of the black cat. I also developed a Facebook page called Black Cats Urgent Rescue in which those black cats who need to be rescued from shelters can be posted and hopefully more people will step up to save these beautiful mini panthers.

This year I've gone even a step further, and have declared June 17th as Black Cats Are Beautiful Day and created an "event" over at Facebook as well. Why June 17th? On June 17, 2001, a black cat came into my life, and yes, I named him Pyewacket. Pyewacket seemed to have come into my life when it was the most turbulent, it was as if he appeared to be my guardian throughout the years of turmoil and was in every sense of the word was my helper and companion. Sadly and most unexpectedly, he passed on April 19, 2010. To date though I'm not without a black cat since on December 1, 2012, I adopted a new black cat, formerly known as Dot from the shelter, but of whom I renamed Ouija. My newcomer of course will never replace Pyewacket, but how could I not have a black cat in my life? To me that would be "unlucky".

All in all, to my mind, there can never be enough Groups, Pages or Events that celebrate the beauty of the black cat, and by doing so, will dispel the stigma and superstitions black cats have had throughout history.

Black Cats Are Beautiful Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/175852975821168/?fref=ts

Black Cats Are Beautiful Facebook Page

Black Cats Urgent Rescue Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/BlackCatsUrgentRescue

Black Cats Urgent Rescue

Black Cats Are Beautiful Day June 17 Event https://www.facebook.com/events/173780892785177/?fref=ts

Black Cats Are Beautiful Day Event

Name of Pyewacket http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pyewacket_(familiar_spirit)

Name of Pyewacket

Photo of Pyewacket (June 17, 2001~April 19,2010)

My statue of Bast which I got over 35 years ago and is a replica of a statue at the Metropolitan Museum Of Art, NY

My first black cat Babette

My current cat Ouija whom I adopted December 1, 2012

The Bittersweet Moments Our Pets Show Us

The Bittersweet Moments Our Pets Show Us:

Just One Demonstration of Unconditional Love a Pet Gave Me

This originally appeared on my Yahoo.Voices page and was published as a "display only" article and on February 8, 2011

Link to the original article is here: Bittersweet Moments Our Pets Show Us

I think many of us who have pets realize the wonderful unconditional love they have for us. They don't judge us, they don't really ask for much yet are capable of showing their love and affection to us without asking for anything much in return. They know the true meaning of unconditional love, something we humans could learn from.

I was talking about one of my cats over at Facebook. As many of my friends may know, my cat Pyewacket passed on April 19th 2010, yet this isn't about him but about one of my cats that I had years and years ago. Her name was Tippy. You might say I rescued her. It was on a warm May day, many, many years ago in 1983. I was at home and at one point, I looked out the window and saw a circle of kids tossing around a very young tiger-striped kitten as if it were a football. Enraged doesn't quite explain how I felt. I zoomed out of my apt. and went straight over to those kids and demanded they hand over the kitten to me and they did (they no doubt thought I was a looney tune). I cuddled the very scared kitten close to me and took her home.

Despite her ordeal of being treated like a mere object she didn't seem to fear me or her new surroundings considering the fact that I also had about five other cats at the time, and she quickly made herself at home. I named her Tippy since even though she was a tiger-striped cat, at the very tip of her tail was the color of an orange tabby...thus the name "Tippy".

Tippy became one of my cuddle bugs and velcro cat. She would hop on my bed to keep me company while I slept, and even gave me her version of a back message. All this attention she gave me unfortunately seemed to spark the jealousy of another cat named Bobbie. He began to antagonize her, bully her, wanted to fight her all the time, it was like a world war going on day in and day out. She began turning into a scared and timid cat and she felt her only safe place where Bobbie wouldn't bother her was to hop up into a cabinet over the refrigerator. She was to remain there for years and years after never coming down. I would have to place her food on top of the fridge and hoist up the litter pan for her to do her business. She just plain wouldn't come down.

Then one day in 1996 I was sitting in the living room when a movement attracted me from my peripheral vision. Looking directly to the "movement" my jaw dropped as I saw Tippy walking around the living room like she was the Queen of Sheba and unafraid of being bullied. At any moment I expected Bobbie to resort to bullying her again but he didn't. This should have maybe raised alarms as to why she all of a sudden decided to be out and about again, but I was just so happy to see her out and about again. She even resumed hopping up on my bed, giving me her back rubs, just as if nothing happened those years she stuck herself in the cabinet and not coming down from her "sanctuary".

About two weeks passed by after her initial daring day of her escape from her sanctuary , and Tippy remained feeling secure about being out and not afraid of Bobbie, and continued to snuggle up on my bed while I slept . Then one morning, I woke up and saw Tippy lying on the floor near the foot of my bed. I got up and went over to her to pet her thinking she was merely asleep, but no, she was still, lifeless....she had passed on. It was as if though, in her last moments of her life she wanted to be near me and why she was where she was on the floor at the foot of my bed.

I'm sure those of us who are pet owners have our own stories to tell of a pet or pets, who demonstrated their unconditional and trusting love for us even in their final moments of life. The story of Tippy is just one of many for me and I will always remember until my own final day.