THE HOLIDAYS ARE ABOUT FAMILY

CATS ARE OUR FAMILY

HoneyBear

Little Havana has a lot of good things going for it, but one of the down sides is that it has to be one of Miami’s most-favored place by cruel people dumping unwanted pets.

We turned bad behavior into great opportunity.

Now, for nearly a decade, we have gotten dozens of cats into Miami-Dade County’s Trap/Neuter/Release program that helps cut down on the population of feral cats.

We have adopted HoneyBear, our Siamese mature cat that lives inside 24/7, divides her days between our work from home stations and spends a good bit of the night in my bed.

We have built outdoor houses, plus feeding and watering stations, for dozens of cats.

We currently have four main cats that spend most of their time on our small urban lot.

Moe is a shy Tuxie. Ginger is a ginger cat that is everyone's mom and caregiver.

CoCo Kitty is HoneyBear's Tortie daughter, too feral to want to be picked up or brought in to live with mom.

Baby is our newest love.

Sadly, his love and trust that allowed us to take him to the vet -- produced a blood test result that indicates he has feline leukemia.

He’s very healthy, a still growing not quite one-year-old boy, but we need to monitor things.

Baby spends a good chunk of the day with us inside while we continue to work from home.

He has just enough wild in him that he cries to go out at night.

We focus on the love we share with Baby and the good shelter and care we give to all the cats that pass through our lives.

Baby

For the full story, visit:

https://stevewright-1964.medium.com/the-holidays-are-about-families-86260835b245

MEET BABY

OUR ANGELIC FERAL GINGER CAT

He got his name because he cries like a baby for attention.

He lives for hugs during his visits from the streets of Little Havana. 

He gets nervous after 10 minutes inside.

But we are trying to make him an inside cat

 #cats

 #AdoptDontShop

HONEYBEAR OUR RESCUE SIAMESE -- 4

IN A SHOE BOX ON MY BED

Hundreds of dollars in cat toys.

And the best toy of all is a dusty old shoe box.

Tossed on the bed for a moment...

...before it goes in the trash.

Nope, forget trying to figure out if it's eligible for the recycling bin.

Lidless shoe box now #1 toy for our rescue Meezer girl.

HONEYBEAR OUR RESCUE SIAMESE -- 3

LOVES TO BE PETTED

Daddy Steve.

I love you.

But if you don’t rub my belly right now.

My front left paw is going to accidentally hit the delete button. 

HONEYBEAR OUR RESCUE SIAMESE -- 2

WANTS ME TO ALWAYS WORK FROM HOME

She insists I:

Get more done.

Write more creatively.

Produce more efficiently.

Get more whisker kisses.

HONEYBEAR OUR RESCUE SIAMESE -- 1

SAYS “DADDY, I CAUGHT A MOUSE”

Well, it’s technically a track ball.

And she’s also discovered the “enter” key is quite close by.

Depressing it gets quiet a reaction from her Cat Daddy.

But not quite as much as hitting the “delete” key after he’s typed out a few full screens of draft work product.

THANK HEAVEN FOR

CATS, OUR FUR BABIES

Honeybear has been with us for 5 years.

We guess that she’s about 8.

It turns out a neighbor down the street had her when she was a kitten and responsibly got her treated so she couldn’t have more kittens.

HB did give birth once, to a litter of 3.

The only baby of hers that we know of is a very skittish Tortie that dubbed Cocoa Kitty.

When Honeybear went out in daylight and nighttime, mother and daughter would hunt together, sand bathe together, hug and fight (as HB the queen would smack her grown kitten – just to make it clear who the king of the hill was, is and always will be).

We tried to get Cocoa Kitty to be an indoor cat, but it’s not for her. So we bought a used dogloo and set her up with food and water in the back of our house.

Before long, many cats were visiting. We bought a used small tent and used it for shelter, with a food bowl in it.

We bought cushions and built shelter out of some old benches left behind by the previous owner of our house.

When one of our most beloved visitor couples – a Maine Coon dubbed Big Boy and his lady Squirt – a tiny ginger cat – had 4 kittens, we went into action.

We worked with Miami-Dade County Animal Services (perhaps the best department in the County) to work with the Trap-Neuter-Release program.

A wonderful, soulful worker named Octavio came by long before dawn and set up a half dozen traps.

Repeating this routine over the years, we have helped far more than a dozen cats to be spared from giving birth. You can tell by their clipped single ear.

We don’t want to turn a sweet tale into a lecture.

But people really do need to be responsible and get their cats fixed – and even work with Animal Services to get in the TNR program. It doesn’t cost a penny and at the most, you will move your car out of the driveway to create room for some humane traps.

Cats, after surgery and recovery, are returned to your lot 48 to 72 hours later.

Our all-time beloved baby from TNR is Dusty.

THANK GOODNESS FOR HONEYBEAR

OUR MEEZER MEMBER OF THE FAMILY

Before we knew it, our Siamese cat visitor had a name – we called her Honeybear.

She launched a months-long plan for getting us to fall in love with her.

It worked.

At first, she was going out when we went to bed and when we left the house.

We were still so new to cats, we feared she would soil our beds, furniture, etc.

We were too dumb to buy a litter box.

Heidi started DVRing Jackson Galaxy shows and reading things online.

Soon, Amazon was delivering cat books.

And Honeybear was only going out at night.

Soon, we loved her so much, we were afraid she might get hurt outside.

Multiple test litterboxes arrived.

She hated the covered one.

She was too big for the one labeled large.

She had a favorite dry cat food.

She had multiple water bowls.

Before we knew it, HB (as we call her when shortening her name) was inside 24-7.

When we traveled, we hired a trusted person to come in twice a day to look after Honeybear.

Mom Heidi bought air prey and other speciality toys, when we realized our Meezer’s health depended on play and exercise.

Daddy Steve welcome Honeybear into his bed.

She curled up right next to him, often snoring, frequently walking over his body and sweetly coming up to smooch him.

(part 4 tomorrow)

WE PAUSE TO GIVE THANKS FOR

OUR FELINE FRIENDS

In early fall 2013, I was on FMLA leave from a miserable job – gladly taking unpaid leave to care for Heidi, my companion of one third of a century.

She was having a hip revision and would be recovering for up to two weeks in a great hospital’s rehab ward after her daylong, brutal procedure.

I would sleep at our house and I would run home to do chores and all – allowing Heidi to rest and get crucial physical therapy.

One day, I was taking a medical device out of a ton of shipping cardboard.

A cat jumped on it and sprawled out.

She had been darting around on and under the wheelchair ramp that leads to our century old house.

We called her the mottled kitty.

Now, in the sun, I could see a beautiful Siamese cat.

She wanted to be petted.

I took some pictures and shared them with Heidi during my long visit.

She said our mottled kitty was at least 75% apple head seal point Siamese.

Not long after Heidi came home, we were out enjoying the break in the weather and doing some yard work.

The Siamese cat came over and let me pet her.

Then she took some milk.

And some kibbles – as we had bought a small bag of cat snacks.

Soon, she was visiting us inside the house for 30, 60, 90 minute periods.

(part 3 tomorrow)

I GIVE THANKSGIVING FOR

DISCOVERING THE LOVE OF CATS 

We were a dog family growing up in exurban Ohio.

Cats were thought of as a nuisance.

They caused allergic reactions and dug up plants.

At best, something an old spinster would keep as a pet, because they were low maintenance and could be virtually ignored for weeks.

I never hated cats, but I really didn’t get them.

It’s like cats have the worst public relations firm on earth.

Every negative stereotype gets repeated in movies, TV shows, even cartoons.

Little Havana, sadly, is a dumping ground for cats.

Moving into an apartment that doesn’t allow pets, turn your poor kitty out to the streets in Little Havana.

Kids lost interest in that kitten you got for Christmas – dump it around Calle Ocho.

Didn’t get your cat fixed and have a litter bigger than you are ready to take on – cast the poor critters off to fend for themselves in the blue collar neighborhood of Shenandoah.

So we were used to cats.

We talked to them.

We had a few run in the house.

We were never mean or anything, but we just didn’t take much interest in having any kind of pet – because we travel a lot and we’re always on the go.

(see part 2 tomorrow)

I GIVE THANKS EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY

FOR THE LOVE, COMPANIONSHIP AND
CAT GUARDIAN EXPERTISE OF MY WIFE HEIDI

That’s our Siamese Rescue Cat Honeybear in the picture.

We bought her a sleep mask as a joke.

She didn’t like it.

But I snapped a picture.

And Heidi, my wife of 30 years, edited it and posted in on her Facebook page.

Barely a day goes by without a cat pic or video shared by my Heidi.

Barely a week goes by without a heartwarming animal clip comes in, often from the Dodo, courtesy of my beloved.

We’ll have about a week’s worth of cat parenting stories posted for the Thanksgiving week.

For now, I need to tell my bride how much I love her.

She bought us tickets to a special Jackson Galaxy appearance – which also funds the Cat Network.

My Heidi DVRs Jackson’s My Cat From Hell TV show – and watches it like a master’s class in cat behavior.

She has purchased books by Jackson and others, to learn about felines.

She found us a wonderful vet nearby in the Grove – a blog item will touch on that this week.

Heidi found cat toys and helped us assemble an emergency first aid kit, should our inside Meezer get hurt.

She scans all of our feline baby’s medical records.

We chose to never have kids.

With Honeybear our indoor baby – and dozens of outside cats that we care for on our small urban lot in the heart of Little Havana – we have become parents.

OUR SIAMESE RESCUE CAT

HONEY BEAR

My Siamese cat Honey Bear knows I shouldn't be working with a cold, so she is blocking keyboard with her paws and the mouse with her head.

No more work today and I mean it, Uncle Steve. -- said Honey Bear the Siamese, swishing her tail across the laptop keyboard and screen when another bout of coughing proved I should not work from home with a bad cold.

CRAZY CAT LADY

AND DAMN PROUD OF IT

by Heidi Johnson-Wright 
(from the EarthBound TomBoy files)

A multi-level tower greets those who come through my door.  Toys made of foil or fluff are strewn across my floor.

You might call me a crazy cat lady.

I suppose I am one. And a bit of a novice, too. While I’ve loved animals my whole life, I was certain I was a dog person. Until two fuzzy feline sweethearts came into my life three years ago. Two kitties -- a mother and daughter – who lived on the streets and needed a human mommy.

It didn’t happen overnight. There were many days when I admired them from afar. 

Then my husband and I tendered some kitty treats, and a bond began to form. 

We weren’t certain if either of us had allergies. So we started out with the rule that we wouldn’t allow them in the house beyond the front room. Then the rule quickly changed to “in the house but not in the bedrooms.” That rule didn’t last long, either.

Now three years in, the only forbidden zones are the cupboards containing household cleaners and the stove top. (OK, the inside of the refrigerator is off limits, too.)

So why the change? How did I become someone who never imagined being a cat mommy to a woman who does hours of online research to find the best cat harness?

Perhaps it links back to my disability. I developed severe rheumatoid arthritis back in grade school. The disease quickly became a juggernaut of severe joint pain and destruction. It has since resulted in two dozen major orthopedic surgeries, followed by months of torturous rehabilitation.

Do you know what it’s like to spend months on your back – your body aching from constantly maintaining the same position -- forbidden to enjoy the simple luxury of rolling onto your side?  

I do. I know what it feels like to lay in a pool of my own sweat collected under my lower back, unable to get air against my skin to evaporate the moisture.

It may sound like a small thing, something you could simply distract yourself from noticing. I assure you it is not. Because when your whole world consists of you in a hospital bed, you literally ache for the simple pleasures we often take for granted.

And I remember all of it: every miserable detail, even the sleepless nights from 40 years ago. Nights and days when I thought: “If only I could roll over for five minutes. If only I could lie on soft sheets. If only I could have a few moments of relief from these aches that never end.”

Perhaps that’s why – if you visit my home – you’ll see comfy cushions and baby blankets throughout my house and soft dish drying pads lying around my patio. I understand such things may label me a crazy cat lady. I proudly cop to that label. 

But don’t forget there’s more to the story. That cushions and blankets and pads symbolize a reduction in suffering. The reduction in suffering that tantalized but evaded a frightened young girl in a hospital bed. The reduction in suffering that I am determined to provide to my fur angels.

Am I a crazy cat lady? You’re goddamn right I am. 

http://earthboundtomboy.blogspot.com/ 

 

FINDING A FRIEND IN A MOST IMPROBABLE WAY

EarthBound TomBoy

By Heidi Johnson-Wright

I am just as human as anyone else. Which means I’m susceptible to the stupid ideas that humans can have.

I must confess that, even though I pride myself on championing the rights of the marginalized, I am sometimes guilty of buying into ugly biases and stereotypes. In this case, I held prejudices about a friend.

I met her about a year and half ago. She lives in my neighborhood. When we first saw each other, I sensed that she wanted to connect with me. Looking back now, I can see that she was clearly afraid of trusting too much.  Afraid of getting hurt.

I took her standoffishness as arrogance, because that is what I’d been taught to believe about her group. That her ilk thought themselves better than everyone else.

So I steered clear of her, until her overtures of friendship became more insistent. Okay, maybe she’s different, I thought. Plus, I’m a sucker for a pretty face, and she surely has one. Her eyes dazzle like blue topaz stones.

We began to connect over food. My husband was the one who suggested we break bread together. And after a week or so, it became clear that we were nurturing a real friendship.

I finally began to let go of my prejudices. Why? Because once I got to know my new friend, I realized she was amazing. Smart. Sweet and gentle. Funny as all get out.

Within a month, she began visiting our house on a regular basis. After two months, she was coming to our house every day, both before I went to work and just after I returned in the evening.

Shortly after that, I had to admit that my initial biases about my friend were really more about me than her. I harbored unfair notions because I was afraid of being rejected. Of being made to feel not good enough. Of being seen as an awkward freak in a sinister, mechanical contraption on wheels.

But my friend treated me no differently than she treated my able-bodied husband. She was not the least bit afraid of my wheelchair. She didn’t run and hide when I moved closer to her. In fact, when I transferred to my living room recliner, she would sit in my wheelchair right next to me. She still does.

Perhaps you’ve guessed by now that my friend isn’t human. She’s a cat. A gorgeous, brilliant, delightful Siamese kitty.

I’d grown up in a family of “dog people.” I bought into their anti-feline propaganda. That cats are cold and unaffectionate. That they see humans solely as sources of food and toys. That they are incapable or unwilling to bond and love the way dogs do.

What rubbish. In a few short months, Princess Miyuku Honey Bear of the Royal Court of Siam (that’s her name) taught me the beautiful truths about cats. The finest of those truths is that cats can love and accept me, sometimes more wholeheartedly than humans do.

I am most honored to be one of Honey Bear’s guardians. Because she’s sweet and silly and whip-smart. But mostly because she accepts me, wheels and all.