Mollie Hunt's Blog, page 80

TINKERBELLE, STAR OF MOLLIE HUNT’S NEW CAT MYSTERY

Tinkerbelle fans! Announcing COPY CATS, a Crazy Cat Lady mystery, starring the beautiful Tinkerbelle! Tink plays herself in this new cozy mystery book written by her mom, Mollie Hunt. Though the story is fictional, Tinkerbelle is so purrfect, Mollie didn��t need to change a thing.

ABOUT COPY CATS: What do cats think? Cat lady Lynley Cannon wants to know, but when a pet psychic uncovers a plot of abuse and brutal murder, crazy finds a whole new level in��Mollie Hunt’s��2nd Crazy Cat Lady mystery.

Check it out at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TUVJ2V8

And for a look at chapter one: https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1164649

Here is a Tinkerbelle passage from COPY CATS:��

Tinkerbelle was a round, fluffy pixie of a cat. She only weighed eight pounds, but added to the bulk of the carrier, it was a good, shoulder-wrenching load. Thankful she wasn��t Big Red at seventeen pounds or, Heaven forbid, Violet, at twenty two, I went into the building and down the brightly lit hallway to Lenore��s room. Her door was ajar so after a token knock, I let myself in, closing it softly behind me.

�� Lenore was sitting up in her hospital bed reading. Per protocol, I gave her a once-over to see how she was doing. With a sigh of relief, I noted she seemed no worse than the last time I was there.

�� The eighty-seven year old was rail-thin with the yellowish complexion that accompanies liver difficulties, but her brown eyes sparkled every time she saw me. She always wore a colorful silk turban �� I didn��t know whether she was bald underneath or if it were a fashion statement. She had the largest collection of silk bed jackets and robes of anyone I��d ever known, and since I had run with an antiques crowd in my younger day, that was saying a lot.

�� Today she sported a voluminous paisley print in rust and mocha that complimented her eyes. She looked a little like a butterfly �� tiny body and huge, beautiful, showy wings.

�� Good morning, Lenore,�� I said, putting Tinkerbelle��s carrier on the floor. I try not to ask the banal, How are you, of hospice patients; as long as they were alive, that was all that mattered.

�� Lenore marked her place with a satin bookmark and put the book aside. ��Good morning, Lynley. How��s my kitten?��

�� She��s good.�� I opened the carrier to let Tinkerbelle out. First a cautious black nose, then a paw appeared. She stood poised for a moment, then deciding she was in friendly climes, strode from the box like the queen of all she surveyed. I clipped the leash onto her harness, scooped her up, and placed her on the bed beside Lenore. She sniffed the old woman��s proffered hand then smoothed her sideburn against it, claiming it for her own.

�� Tinkerbelle circled and found just the right spot to lie down. I had learned long ago that when it came to pet visits, I was merely the chauffeur, so I sat by the bed and let Tink do her thing.

�� Usually for the first few minutes, Lenore was so wrapped up in the cat that she basically ignored me, but this time after only a cursory stroke or two, she said in her soft cultured tones, ��I have some news, Lynley, that I think you will appreciate.��

�� Oh? What��s that?��

�� My nephew has bought another cat,�� she said with obvious satisfaction.

�� Well, congratulations.�� I smiled, trying not to let my preference for shelter animals over the purchased kind affect my reaction.

�� Yes, it is very good. The boy is nearly sixty and had never had a cat until this year. Now he has two. Can you believe it?��

�� That��s amazing. Was he a dog person?��

�� Not really. He traveled a lot. He was an airline pilot, you see. He figured he didn��t have time for a pet. But when he retired, I made it my business to convince him to consider a cat.�� She beamed conspiratorially. ��And being a smart boy who listens to his wise old auntie, he did just that.��

�� Good for you.��

�� Well, you know I adopted all my cats from shelters �� either that or they adopted me.�� She snickered as the visions of cats-gone-by danced in her rheumy eyes. ��But Bill had his heart set on a certain breed. I told him to wait until one showed up at your Friends for Felines �� they always do eventually.��

�� People don��t realize how many purebred cats end up in shelters,�� I agreed.

�� And there are breed rescue groups too. But once Bill decided he wanted a cat, he had to have it right now. No patience, that boy. Still, I can empathize with his enthusiasm. Why wait when you never know what tomorrow may bring. And once he had the one, he concluded he needed another as a companion. He still spends a lot of time away from home and was concerned that Bonnie might get lonely.��

�� So he got a second kitty?��

�� Yes, a male. He picked him up last week. Very expensive, I take it. Even more expensive than the first which he bought at a cat show.�� She harrumphed. ��But he has all his papers and apparently comes from a long, important line.��

�� Have you met him yet?��

�� Not yet. Bill is still acclimatizing him to his new home. He doesn��t want to do anything out of the ordinary at this time. And though I can tell you I am a little disappointed, I do agree with him.��

�� It��s a good idea to let them settle. A week isn��t very long for a new cat to get used to such a big change. I��m sure he��ll bring him soon.��

�� I��m sure he will.�� She stroked Tinkerbelle��s silken fur and gazed out the window. I knew she was wondering if she would still be around by then.

�� What did he get?��

�� Lenore turned wide eyes to me. ��Pardon?��

�� You said he was a breed cat. What breed?��

�� Oh yes.�� She waved a bantam hand. ��There are photographs. Look on top the chest of drawers.��

�� I rose and crossed to the antique waterfall dresser, keeping hold of Tinkerbelle��s leash per Pet Partners protocol, though by the looks of her, all curled up in the crook of Lenore��s arm, she wasn��t going anywhere. Spread out on a Battenburg lace runner was a handful of color glossies. Smiling, I gazed at the professional quality pictures.

�� My smile faded. With a prickle of alarm, I stared at them dumbly.

�� Pick them up, dear, and bring them over.��

�� Robotically I did as I was told. My hand trembled as I handed them to Lenore.

�� Siamese!�� she exclaimed. ��I don��t know why perfectly common words escape me sometimes. Siamese, obviously, silly me. He has a long, fancy show cat name, but Bill calls him something for short �� oh, I should remember this. Yes, I know, it��s…��

�� Meow?�� I finished for her.

�� Her keen eyes flicked from the photos to me. ��Meow? No, that��s not it at all. Let me think. Ah, yes! Bill calls him Zoom. You know, after the cat in the sweet children��s series.��

�� I took back one of the pictures and held it up close. I studied every satin hair, every sable whisker, the familiar blue-on-blue eyes gazing at me through the celluloid. I paid special attention to what I could see of his ears and tail; they were fully furred and perfectly tinted as a seal point Siamese should be. The last time I��d seen Meow, those parts had been shaved, the noxious colorant removed and cleansed by the FOF doctors, but that was two months previous and the fur would have grown back by now. The crooks could easily have re-applied the dye.

�� I looked again. Yes, if the smiling Siamese wasn��t Meow, it could have been his twin brother.��

�� Where did your nephew get this cat?�� I asked a little too abruptly.

�� Lenore stared at me quizzically. Not much gets by her. ��Why, Lynley, is something wrong?��

�� I pushed myself to relax and glanced once more at the image. Was I so absolutely sure this was my Meow? ��No, it��s nothing.�� I forced a smile. ��He looks like a perfectly wonderful cat. Maybe I can meet him sometime when he visits.��

�� Do you think Tinkerbelle would appreciate that? Does she like other kitties?�� Lenore petted the wide black back, and Tink purred in ecstasy.

�� I had to laugh. ��It depends on her mood. She��ll either play prima donna or give him a bath.��

�� Well, we will see.�� She handed me the pictures. ��Please put them back on the dresser for me, dear.��

�� I flipped through the images once more and pulled out a full body shot with a good close up of the face and head. ��Do you think I could get a copy of this one, Lenore?��

�� She hesitated, then gave a little wave. ��Take it. Bill will bring me more. Lots more!��

�� I stuffed the photo in my bag, took a deep breath, and turned back to Lenore. ��And what��s been happening since I saw you last?��

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Published on February 22, 2015 11:56

LUX: AN AFFIRMATION

In the desperate moments of darkness, between the joy of Lux and the sorrow, I wrote this affirmation. When I stuck by it, things went better; when I didn’t, I was lost. Nothing is perfect. The trip through anxiety is gruesome and grueling, but the key word is through. I was not about to give up with so much greatness in my life.

��

~Today I��m not going to make lists or look at lists I��ve already made. (This is not a list)

~Today I��m not going to try to explain why I��m not 110%, especially to myself who demands the most from me.

~Today I��m going to stop and acknowledge beauty when I see it. I will not run for the camera or Facebook, but just stop and look for myself in that moment only.

~Today I will cry when I need to.

~Today I will not feel guilty about what I might or might not have done.

~Today I will eat carefully, drink water, and take a walk. Or not.

~Today I will try to do just one thing at a time: single-tasking. I will not over-think.

~Today I will not worry about tomorrow.

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Published on February 14, 2015 10:39

Casuals Don’t Fool Anyone

Mollie Hunt:

For my shoe-minded friends.

Originally posted on Elan Mudrow:

Slippers are for cowards

Slip-ons are for Christmas

Morning hung-over dads

Sandals are for white people

forced into dreadlocks

on their way to burn a man

Dancing out of their money

eating spiced tempeh fries

disguised as Jesus peyote

offered by the naturopath

Indian guru of gluttony

Socks are for holy days

Pray upon the sacred hamper

Perform the rites of Wash Day

Resurrection is in the dryer

Boots are for the blues

Galoshes are for the lonely

Pumps are puking in the

Ladies�� room with panties

named Pink, lost in the midst

of the jumble of mesh

Sneakers run unaware everywhere

Dress shoes are in the closet

Clogs are fakin�� the feet

Into performing lurid acts of

Knee highs, leather, and straps

High Tops are for hook ups

High Heels are for the cranky

Swollen members of the crowd

Floating on twisted ankles

Casuals don��t fool anyone

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Published on February 13, 2015 12:32

REBLOGGING: Are Black Cats Being Overlooked?

Mollie Hunt:

~ Tinkerbelle ~

~ Little ~

My 2 black cats, Tinkerbelle and Little, asked me to share this blog:

Originally posted on cat-behaviour-cat-grooming-advice:

In the wonderful, often quirky, parallel universe of the cat lover, where cats rule the roost, there��s one cat that seems to have innocently caught itself up in all manner of myths and superstitions and who I personally think has and still is drawing the short fish flavoured straw.

I never really thought much about the plight of the black cat until I saw the high percentage of black cats up for adoption on one of my regular visits to the Mayhew Animal Home. Cabin after cabin I was confronted by pairs of large beautiful eyes glowing from thick solid inky coloured coats. As I entered the cat section��each moggie vocalised louder and louder, competing against one another, as if saying ��No, over here. pick me��. Ok, so I am anthropomorphizing a little here but what is going on with��

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Published on February 08, 2015 11:59

PRAISE FOR MOLLIE HUNT, CAT PERSON

With my new book, COPY CATS, a crazy Cat Lady mystery coming out soon, I asked Jackson Galaxy if he would write me a note of praise. I am extremely proud of this commendation and want to share it with you:

I know Mollie Hunt not as an author – I know Mollie as a true, dyed-in-the-wool cat person. I know her as a cat guardian and a foster parent and, most importantly, as a human being.

After being around cats, cat people and the animal welfare world for the better part of 20 years, one thing I can spot a mile away is true passion; it is not a quality that is nurtured over time nor is it a skill; you either have it or you don��t – and Mollie Hunt has it. When she is confronted with mystery, she dives in and won��t come back up for air until she is satisfied. And through the process of turning questions into answers, she never loses sight of the beating heart that lives under the question mark. She knows that in order to really understand cats, you have to know them – and to know a cat is to experience the world as they do, to feel their courage and fear, to truly invest in everything from their deep-rooted suspicions to their everyday experiences of joy, satisfaction and love.

The components that make cats passionate about their world, and each moment that makes up a day in that world are just that- a collection of words. People like Mollie are rare in this world because they infuse their own curiosity about that world with true empathy. This combination of qualities are in my opinion the recipe for not only a quality person, but, in the end, a great artist as well.

Jackson Galaxy | Cat Behavior Consultant

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Published on February 07, 2015 16:59

Reblogging: Brain Tumor Diagnosis….

An artist faces fate, bringing us all a little closer to our own.

Brain Tumor Diagnosis…..

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Published on February 03, 2015 12:06

27: LUX �� THUNDERSHIRT

~ Dirty Harry ~
1998 – 2014

With Lux gone, the house felt emptier than ever. In March, we had lost our old cat, Dirty Harry, to kidney disease. Harry was the best, the smartest, the sassiest, the sweetest cat on this earth. Though our other 3 are all remarkable in their own ways, some cats are singular. Harry was one of those cats, and so is Lux.

I was still drowning in my ongoing panic attack, though it was improving slightly. I had learned ways to combat it, such as physical activity. I gardened and walked. I didn��t know I could push this old body so hard without triggering a heart attack.

I need to note that though most of the anxiety symptoms were unbearably oppressive, one odd side effect was the persistence of beauty. I perceived beauty in everything, places I would have ordinarily ignored. Nothing is without merit, even the abyss of mental illness.

Meanwhile, Jackson was making arrangements for the next step in Lux��s journey. A place was being created for him to live, his own apartment above a veterinary office. It was a beautiful and airy space in a small town. He could stay as long as it took, getting used to a home away from home. There were many windows and an elaborate climbing tree, complete with silk leaves. The tree was very pretty, a labor of love, but I told the doctor he would eat those leaves. Lux has Pica disorder*, with a preference for plastic. Sure enough, the first note I got back from her was how Lux had eaten the leaves and thrown up green silk all day.

But I get ahead of myself. Before Lux left Portland, Jackson bought him a Thundershirt, which is a soft fleece vest known to have a calming effect on both cats and dogs. It��s designed to use gentle hugging to calm an animal, and it was worth a try. Lux didn��t seem to mind it being put on over his ling fur. He looked very debonair in it. I wish I had a picture, but I was too busy playing with Lux for the last time before he left town.

*��Pica is the term used for the behavior of eating non-food material. The most common material associated with Pica is usually wool such as blankets, socks, jackets, etc., but some cats will nibble on just about anything from plastic grocery bags to litter.�� catbehaviorassociates

��

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Published on February 01, 2015 11:40

26: LUX �� PING-PONG, MAY INTO JUNE, 2014

Lux must have felt like a ping pong ball bouncing back and forth between my house and boarding. All this to a cat who, before a few months ago, had never left home. Now that home was far behind him and another one fading fast, though Jim and I still held out hope that once the drugs were stabilized, he could return for his long-delayed happily-ever-after.

This time everyone agreed we had to be sure of his behavior, sure he wouldn��t act out again �� as sure as we could be. Cats hate change, and this boy had been subjected to far too much of it. Jackson and Lux��s care team took over. The plan was to stabilize the meds, then put him in a professionally supervised home simulation and see how he did. His care team was increasing; everyone Jackson reached out to was willing to help. So much depended on Lux��s ability to become a normal cat.

Jackson loved Lux, but the time he spent working with the boy wasn��t for Lux, alone. It was for all the cats who had similar behavior issues. It was for cats who would otherwise be euthanized for acting out. It was for the people who loved those cats but were caught between giving them up and keeping themselves safe. No one can live with a cat who viciously attacks out of the blue. If Jackson could find a way to quell those outbursts, the entire cat community would benefit.

Meanwhile, on June 13, Lux��s episode of My Cat From Hell aired. The world finally had a chance to see what had happened to the infamous 911 cat in 911, My Cat��s Holding Me Hostage.

��

As you can read in this blog, the episode was again incomplete. It was a wonderful episode, well done and absolutely honest in its chronicle of Lux��s journey, but it ended with our taking Luxie back into our home, while off-set, things had moved on in another direction.

I was stuck in a quandary. People who saw the show sent me congratulations and kudos for my heart and bravery which I absolutely didn��t deserve since I had given Lux up again. To complicate matters, I was bound not to discuss anything not covered in the show. That was when Jackson stepped in, writing an eloquent and heartfelt update letter. He explained everything, laid it all on the line. For those who haven��t read it, here you are:

http://jacksongalaxy.com/2014/06/18/jackson-on-lux/

Lux was ongoing. Sorry folks, this story wasn��t about to close all nice and neat in a one-hour time slot.

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Published on February 01, 2015 11:00

25: LUX �� BAD VIBRATIONS, MAY 15, 2014

Lux had been back for only 2 days when he had the outburst. I was in the kitchen and luckily had a cardboard barrier nearby. He ran right up to me and began to growl. I placed the barrier in front of my legs from where I could safely watch the outburst manifest. As I looked down on him, he seemed so small, a tiny fluffy ball of fear and rage. The barrier made him angry and he clawed at it, putting long gouges in the soft paper. I was scared but tried to calm him. He was beyond comforting, in that other world, ears back, eyes wide, fearful and fearsome at the same time.

In spite of the barrier, I was petrified. Too clearly, I remembered the feel of claws and blood and teeth to the bone. The wounds had not yet heeled, and I didn��t want any more. I inched toward the door, thinking I could slip out, but in my panic, I��d forgotten my other cats. Tinkerbelle, little old grandma of a cat, was right there on the other side. When I cracked the door, in she raced like an attack dog.

She was on Lux in a heartbeat, and it took only a few moments before he ran off, away from the mini-beast. She didn��t hurt him, having been declawed long before she was mine, nor did he hurt her. That her attack quelled his outburst was significant, though I didn��t comprehend its meaning.

We had been warned that there might be another outburst; until we got the medication balanced, Lux would still be prone to the fear-seizures. We took it as well as possible, putting Lux in his room and keeping the barriers close. After that incident, he seemed to be through acting out. Though he was still extremely aloof, we were able to spend time with him.

The next day he was extremely hungry. He ate everything we put in front of him and asked for more. We thought it was��a good sign because historically his food intake diminished when he was about to have an outburst. This wasn��t the case, however. Later that evening he became more aggressive than ever. He flew at Jim, scratching and yowling, and remained extremely hostile into the next day. We��d got him in his room where he was well supplied with food, water, toys, and litter, but we were unable to slip his meds through the doorway without him going crazy. We tried our best to get him to eat them on his own, using Pill Pockets and food we knew he liked. Doctor had upped the medication, but we couldn��t get him to take it.

It soon became clear we were out of our depth. Doctor came��to get��Lux��and take him back into boarding while they��adjusted his meds there. Beautiful woman that she is, she arrived in a crisp white skirt. (Jim and I were wearing flak jackets and boots!) She walked right in, coaxed him into the carrier without a mew, and left with a smile. Cats! Go figure!

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Published on January 29, 2015 18:26

24: LUX �� HOME AGAIN, SORT OF, Mid-May, 2014

Lux came home late the night of May 13th. The vet had given us 2 medications, pretty much the same as he��d had before but in different dosages. They had found he was extremely easy to pill if one held him like a baby, and this proved to be true. Jackson had given us all sorts of advice and tips, plus the okay to call him night or day with any concerns.

One of the things he suggested, just in case Luxie began to act out again, was to stash large sheets of cardboard in each room that could be used as barriers between us and him. We did this, hoping we would never need them. Then we went about our business.

Because we have other cats, we put Lux back in his room when we were gone. I��ve found in fostering that most cats like a smaller space while they get used to new surroundings. When they gain confidence, the space enlarges, and introductions to the resident cats are made until they have the run of the house. I was cautious in Lux��s case because I wanted things to work out this time.

I was still experiencing my endless anxiety attack. Every morning I recited the prayer:

��God, remove my fear, and direct my attention to what you would have me do.��

Every night I lay in bed concentrating on the pinpoint glow of the smoke alarm, reciting mantras, visualizing labyrinths and anything else I thought might calm the adrenaline enough for me to get to sleep. I wasn��t the only one who was depressed. The day after Lux came back, I wrote: