Mollie Hunt's Blog, page 85

DO CRAZY CAT LADIES DREAM OF CRAZY CATS?

 I recently returned from the Star Trek convention in Las Vegas where I met Harlan Ellison, famous science fiction writer and curmudgeon. He seemed to pride himself on his orneriness, and as I listened to his insolent declarations, an idea began to form. I would walk up to him at his table in the vendor’s room, introduce myself, and give him one of the postcards advertising my book, “Cats’ Eyes”. He was making such a fuss about great literature that I just had to present him with a cozy cat mystery.

 But my convention experiences were not the inspiration behind this blog. It was the question, the one that came to me in the middle of the night: Do crazy cat ladies dream of crazy cats? (From there it was a hop, skip and a jump to the classic sci-fi story, “Do androids dream of Electric Sheep?” Of course that story was written by Phillip K. Dick, not Harlan Ellison, but Dick wasn’t at the Star Trek convention and Ellison was. Makes sense to me.)

 I am the crazy cat lady and I dream of a crazy cat, my sweet, moonstruck Luxie who is elsewhere learning the ropes. I miss him every day, and now that I’m home from Las Vegas, I will continue writing the story of my time with him. But nothing replaces the touch of fur, the look in a cat’s eyes.

 

PS: I did give Mr. Ellison a “Cats’ Eyes” postcard, which he very politely gave back to me saying he didn’t like cats. He did, however, call me by my name, which he read off the card. Who knows where that might lead?

 

LUX – INTO THE FIRE

 When the story of Lux broke, I don’t remember meeting one person who didn’t have an opinion. Some were right there with the dad, righteous to do anything that would save their child from pain. The animal advocates questioned why anyone would leave a baby alone with a cat in the first place.

  

The cat’s tail was pulled; the cat was kicked. Speculation about the type of person who would call 911 on their cat ran rampant. No one really believed the cat could have been as vicious as they made out. Most people blamed the guardians, assuming they just didn’t know about cats. I was right there with them, thinking that would never have happened had Lux been mine.

 

 

Now it looked like I was about to put my hubris to the test. The plan was for my husband and me to foster the big cat in our home for one week, follow Jackson Galaxy’s plan, and see what happened, see if living with quiet, cat-savvy people in a safe environment would make a difference. It was all very hush hush, but I gathered Jackson had been working with Lux and his family in their home. Apparently the problem hadn’t been solved.

 

My first meeting with both Jackson Galaxy and Lux was to be filmed. As I mentioned in my previous blog, I don’t look like TV people and I was nervous, but I was excited as well. Underneath everything—the show, the TV crew, the big-name personality, the 15 minutes of fame—ran one constant: This was about Lux. Given other circumstances, Lux might have been euthanized for his outburst. Jackson was offering Lux a chance for a normal life, and through Lux, through My Cat From Hell, advocating for other “crazy” cats as well.

……………………continuing

LUX – CONFIRMED

 

 I’m not the sort of person you see on TV, or if you did, I would probably be playing a homeless lady or someone with a disease. Not that I’m gross or anything; but face it, the people we see on television are not real. Especially the women. They are thin to the point of emaciation, made up by professionals with products that cost more than the mortgage on a house, dressed in designer clothing that has been fitted to them, then filmed by technological magicians who never get their bad side.

  

 

Still, I admit, I had longed to be out there, maybe just to prove I could do it. I have in fact been on television before, doing background for Boston Legal, Leverage and Portlandia. It was awesome fun, but the part I really liked was being behind the scenes on the set. The tenth of a second that I actually appeared after the final cuts was merely secondary.

 

I had decided to answer the call for foster, and rang up OHS’s media director as instructed. By her second or third “I can’t tell you unless you sign a confidentiality agreement,” I had guessed what it was about. After all, how many famous cats do we have in Portland?

I signed the agreement. 

 

I was elated! As a volunteer, one doesn’t always get the recognition one thinks one deserves. After all, that’s what volunteering is all about, a selfless act, helping others. I worked hard at my volunteering and loved the idea that it had finally paid off. The old adage, “Pride cometh before a fall”, never entered my mind. I was too blinded by thought of bright lights and craft trucks, of working with famous cat behaviorist, Jackson Galaxy.

And more than anything, I wanted to meet Lux.

…………………….continuing.

 

 

LUX GOES VIRAL – The Meow Heard around the World

On March 9, 2014, Lux shot to Internet stardom when he supposedly trapped his owners in their bedroom and they called 911. The attack cat story gained national attention when headlines like ABC’s 911 Call Reveals Family Held Hostage by Fat Cat and KGW’s House cat goes berserk, scares Portland family hit papers, television and social media. Basically the story went like this:

PORTLAND – A 22-pound house cat scared a Portland family into calling 911 for help Sunday. The family called 911 at 7:55 p.m., telling dispatchers the huge cat named Lux attacked their baby and then forced them to flee into a bedroom, where they remained holed up inside. The baby was not injured but the 911 operator could hear Lux screeching in the background.

“I kicked him in the rear and he just went off, over the edge,” the caller told the 911 dispatcher. “We are not safe around the cat. We’re trapped in the bedroom. He won’t let us out of the door.”

When officers arrived, the man, who sounded slightly shaken, told the dispatcher he was reluctant to let the police in because, “If I leave the bedroom, I’m going to have to fight the cat.  Tell them to be careful, the police.”

The dispatcher stayed on the phone with the caller to make sure everyone, including the family dog, was safe. Police managed to apprehend the suspect with cleverness, instead of sheer force.

“They saw the black-and-white Himalayan dart into the kitchen, attempting to flee custody,” said Sgt. Pete Simpson with the Portland Police Bureau. “Officers were able to outwit the high-strung Himalayan, who climbed on to the top of the refrigerator, and get a snare around the cat and safely get the cat behind bars in its crate.”

Simpson told KGW that “it could have been catastrophic had it been attacking the officers.” The mother said with a new baby in their lives, perhaps it’s time to find another home for the cat.

“Maybe it’s something that can be worked out through mediation between the family and cat,” Simpson said.

Lux was the lead story on Inside Edition and a big headline on Huffington Post. He was also a hot topic of discussion for Whoopi Goldberg on The View. Chris Hardwick opened his Comedy Central show @Midnight by asking his guests to translate Lux’s screeching in the 911 call.

 

 

 

 

AND THEN: March 17 – LUX SENT TO SHELTER. Lux, the angry cat that that trapped a family of three in a bedroom, has been sent to a shelter. The owners of the now-infamous black-and-white house cat contacted Multnomah County Animal Services and asked them to come get the cat, said the director of the shelter in Troutdale.

BUT SOON AFTER: Animal Planet’s cat whisperer, Jackson Galaxy, offered to work with Lux and his family for an upcoming episode, My Cat from Hell.

AND THE CAT CAME BACK: March 20 – The owners of a cat that went on a rampage after being kicked by the owner’s boyfriend for scratching the baby told the Multnomah County Animal Shelter that they decided they wanted him back.

Note: Lux weighs only 12 pounds and is a Domestic Long Hair, not a Himalayan. But who’s counting?

………………………to be continued.

 

 

LUX – THE CALL GOES OUT

The call to find someone to foster Lux was fraught with enigma. They never named him directly because of all the media hype that accompanied him, and I had no idea at the time what the real deal was; only that I’d never been contacted in that way before to foster and/ or adopt a cat. Here is the email I received from the volunteer coordinator at Oregon Humane:

“Hi Mollie, We have a special situation of a Tuxedo long hair cat that needs a placement. Are you interested? I can refer you to our media Director for more details. You came to mind since I know you had a recent loss. (It may be too soon to think this way). I apologize if this is poor timing. I just thought you’d be the ideal home. K.”

I had just lost my great and wonderful Dirty Harry a few weeks earlier. His death, though anything but sudden, took a great toll on me. He had been with me for 12 years; I had watched the super-smart black & white go from youth to mid-age to old to dying. I remember when he started feeling his years he would lie in his donut bed and stare at me, his eyes saying, “What’s happening to me? Why do I feel this way?” He was a stubborn thing and didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want to let go either. But death comes to us all. Still, the passing of this gorgeous, funky, obstinate, playful, curious, dirty, hairy boy hurt like nothing I’ve endured before.

~ Harry ~

K. was right, it was probably too soon to think about taking on another cat, yet something about her query intrigued me. I replied:

“Thanks for thinking of me. I would be interested to know more, though I can’t make any promises at this time. (I have 3 other cats besides the one who died) I take it this isn’t a foster situation; that you are looking for an adopter?”

I had also discovered a more generic request on the private OHS Foster Facebook page:

 “Hi Guys, I have a special request. We are looking to privately place into a home a male, four year old cat. This cat has long hair and tuxedo markings. He needs to find a new quiet home, preferably the only pet, but may do well with older, low energy pets. No kids under 10. Do you know of the perfect home? After a lot of transition, he just needs a calm place to call home! Please email if you know of a great foster to adopt situation and thanks.”

This request was somewhat different that K.’s direct contact with me. Curiouser and curiouser. I hadn’t heard back from her, so I emailed her again:

 “I saw the note on the facebook foster page. I assume it’s about this same cat, and I am in a good position to foster. I was out of town for a couple of days so Snowball, the foster I had, went to someone else. I’m home now… But again, not sure about what is meant by “foster to adopt…” Anyway if you need a foster, I can pick kitty up tomorrow after work. Uh, Media director…?”

I was beginning to wonder…

Maybe it was the passing of Harry that spurred me on to take the leap of faith with Lux; maybe it was arrogance; maybe it was a deep-seated desire for my fifteen minutes of fame; maybe I just wanted to help a cat in need.

 

 

 

LUX, THE ENIGMA, or I JUST WANTED TO PET THE TIGER

When I was a child, I thought I could run with the tigers. I had no fear; I knew they would not harm me. Then I grew up. My conviction faltered, and like the fairies in Peter Pan, without belief, faded into the dullness of adulthood. Still, when I saw the big, dangerous cats in all their feline glory, I couldn’t help wanting to touch them, pet them, feel their fur like cloud made manifest under my touch. I wanted to hug them, hold them, bury my face in their solace of stripes.

 

I felt the same thing the first time I saw Lux. The photo of him in the MCAS cattery girl’s arms – I wanted to be that girl, to hold that big kitty in my own arms. The fact he was considered dangerous just made me want to hold him more. After all, he didn’t look dangerous; he looked like a poor sad kitty who needed my love.

 

When the Oregon Humane Society asked me if I could foster a special case, a thrill of excitement rushed through me. Not that I knew he would be the 911 cat who was in the care of cat behaviorist, Jackson Galaxy. But I knew it would be something momentous. In the 8 years I have been fostering cats for OHS, they have come up with some pretty interesting cases. Felix, the kitten with the atrophied leg who learned to reuse it through exercise and play; Polly, the feisty overweight Torti who swatted my hand whenever I came near; Emilio with the broken leg that just wouldn’t heal; Wiggie, Lola and Fraulein Fluffs, 3 dying cats I took in to hospice so they didn’t have to spend their last days in a shelter. I’ve seen a lot of cats and thought myself knowledgeable, but nothing I had done prepared me for Lux.

 

He was, and is, a one of a kind.  

 

Closing on COPY CATS, a new Lynley Cannon Crazy Cat Lady mystery

What is that clackity sound and hot smell of ink? It’s my ancient printer grinding out a hard copy of my new book, “Copy Cats, a Crazy Cat Lady Mystery”. Did you know I always edit a hard copy as well as the one on the computer where I write? I’ve caught many an error, as well as found places that just don’t “look” right. Reading, even in an e-format, is visual. If it doesn’t flow visually, one may not ever get far enough to know if the story is any good.

Copy Cats continues the adventures of cat shelter volunteer Lynley Cannon (Cats’ Eyes, a Crazy Cat Lady Mystery Vol 1) as she gets caught up in another tale of deceit, murder and cats. Here’s the description:

 If your cat told you there was murder afoot, would you believe her?

When fifty-nine year old cat-lady Lynley Cannon attends a workshop on animal communication– the psychic kind– she never presumes it could lead to a scheme both conniving and deadly. Someone is counterfeiting show cats, but that’s not the worst of it. Their techniques are savage and abusive, and Lynley must find the culprits before they can do more harm. To compound matters, there is a serial killer loose in Portland, mangling his victims with a gruesome cat-like claw. The two crimes are connected but in what way, only Lynley can discover.

For those of you who have not yet read Cats’ Eyes, it’s on Kindle Countdown Deals beginning Sunday, June 22 for only 99 cents. Don’t have a Kindle? Get the Kindle App and download to your phone, notepad or computer. Follow the link on this blog.

Why People Love Dogs So Much

Originally posted on The Patron Saint of Dogs:

Recently a friend expressed exasperation on their Facebook page:

“I can’t believe how much attention and time and money people give to their dogs. They are DOGS for crying out loud.”

I think my friend is referring to people like this…

There are those of us afraid to trust humans anymore because we’ve been betrayed..

Some of us have been hurt by someone we love and are afraid to love again…

And we know that dogs think we are the most important people in their world..

Dogs bring caring and compassion to lonely, elderly people…

And comfort to the sick and injured…

They’re always happy to see us come home…

And they rely on us completely…

No matter how bad our lives get…

Or how empty they may seem to others…

They bring joy and fun and happiness to everything we do together…

They always love our cooking…

Are grateful…

View original 118 more words

SLOGANS, SYMBOLS & WORDS TO LIVE BY

  Never count your cards at the gambling table. Don’t sit with your back to the door. Shake your boots out before putting them on; there might be scorpions.

I’m not sure where I picked up those words of wisdom, or how wise they really are in my everyday life. I rarely gamble and when I do, it’s most likely at a computerized slot machine with flashing lights and surround sound. I live in northwest Oregon; nary a scorpion in sight. Sitting with my back against a wall, as opposed to a door, makes good sense, though. I’m not so worried about getting shot in the back as I am about missing something I might like to see. It’s probably that cat curiosity thing again.

Then there are slogans:

~Never surrender; never give up.                                                                                                     ~Spay and neuter.                                                                                                                                 ~One day at a time.                                                                                                                              ~Live long and prosper.

Yes, two of those are Star Trek-related. Star trek is full of profundities: He’s dead, Jim – now there’s a little snippet useful in all sorts of daily situations.

And One Day at a Time is, of course, the mantra by which many an alcoholic has managed to outwit their nemesis. The twelve-step programs are rife with slogans: Live and let live; Let it begin with me; How important is it? When I first heard this plethora of catchphrases, I thought they were trite. Easy does it, I mean, really? How about a few hearts and flowers and perhaps a unicorn or two? But I’ve come to see they are actually shorthand, abbreviations representing a greater truth. If every time I needed to get my head on straight I had to recite an entire deliberation about the will and the soul and the power of God, I’d be shit out of luck. Much simpler to recall the slogan, Don’t believe everything you think.

Words are important; some are not to be forgotten:

I love you.                                                                                                                                             I’m proud of you.                                                                                                                                     Thank you.                                                                                                                                                I remember.                                                                                                                                           I’m sorry.                                                                                                                                         

All have their place and time. If I had to choose one word to sum up the wisdom of the world, it would be…

Chocolate.

Just kidding. But since there is no one word, chocolate or bacon or gratitude or hope or kitty may be as good as it gets.

I WANT TO BE A WRITER WHEN I QUIT GROWING UP.

 

What would happen if I quit my job at the doctor’s office and took up writing full time? I’d lose my medical insurance; I couldn’t pay the bills. But might it not be possible to simplify? To sell off stuff? To become self-insured? And maybe in time, I’d make a living from my books. Maybe lots of money. “Sell a million books, make a million dollars,” Phillip Margolin once said. He sells a million books, intricate crime dramas with interest in his law background and lots of grisly gore. I don’t write like that. I write what I like to read: nice people, sweet cats, pretty pictures. The cozy mystery. If only I could draw like Beatrix Potter…

I love writing. I love making pictures with words. I love the feel of the keys, and the way time ceases to exist while I’m at the keyboard. Once I begin, it’s a blackout for me, but one of the nicest kind. Writing beats most everything else in my life.

Today for example:

~Outside~
A Rare Spring Day in Portland

And where am I?

~My Office~
Current View

Gotta go. A Crazy Cat Lady is calling me…