Today I learned that Cary Grant made his film debut (1932) in "This is the Night." The critics lapped him up, praising him as a “Splendid Figure” and “Potential Femme Rave.”
Well, you know me, I had to check. Cats were domesticated about 10,000 - 12,000 years ago. Dogs - about 30,000 years ago.
I am not sure if this is still the prevailing theory, but I remember reading something about cats domesticating themselves. Got used to humans after learning to hang around granaries for easy prey, and, well.. they're just so damned cute. Only helped that they are baby-sized, with large, baby-sized eyes, and are soft and warm. I also recall reading that members of Felis catus do not make the kinds of sounds we human butlers hear when they aren't around people. I think it's an ideal symbiotic relationship.
I never had a cat, but had several dogs. If I got a pet now (no plans) it would probably be a cat. They take less care.
They're mostly pretty easy. Mittens is an old lady now, but even when younger, she slept at least 16 hours a day. Now it's more like 18+. Scooping the litterbox every day is nothing compared to having to take a dog outside all the time. And the food and supplies aren't very expensive. I've always had a kitty around and can't imagine not. The manuscript picture made me think of this other one: I think kitty probably knocked over the ink bottle too.
They didn't turn into Tribbles until they were domesticated (or... domesticated themseves). Today's housecats originated from something like a Lynx or Bobcat most likely. Just like the cutest, cuddliest dog originated somewhere down the line from wolves.
Small cats were a thing long before modern humans. Had to look it up real quick: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Felis You can, to an extent, like (literal) toilet training, playing fetch. But generally, there's no incentive for them to do more than what they've been doing thus far. Because... I see a wild sand cat kitten and instantly I'm like, "AAAAAHHH I WILL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT!"
My microwave has a "light timer." It's a timer that... turns off the light. My mind is kind of blown. Not sure why I'd use it, but I'm brainstorming ideas.
At its zenith, our menagerie included eight cats, four dogs, and four horses. The natural consequences of passing years has left us with two dogs, three cats and no horses. This time last Sunday, we still had three dogs.
Did he, perhaps, added a bit of doggerel? Oh, curs'd be ye puss whom added thy pee to thys manuscript edytedd by me so gett thee gone to thee barn, you see or I'll hang thee from ye Tyburn tree. (Avast, ye doggerel! Doggonit. Sorry, I dashed that off in a hurry)
Years ago I had a cat who learned to fetch, usually a wadded-up empty cigarette pack (I said it was years ago). Or maybe he taught me to throw it for him. Anyway, my roommate and I spent long [stoned] hours tossing the pack for him as we talked of purportedly deep and profound things.
My dad had a penchant for bringing home animals from people he met on his sales route. At various times ( consecutively not concurrently) everything from a dog to pet mice to ducks, a gosling (who grew into a full-sized "watchdog"), orphaned lambs (two of them, the first died of pneumonia its first night with us), a pigeon with a broken wing, bantam chicks and later full-sized chickens, rabbits, guinea pigs, even a piglet (on the soon to be disproven theory that the only reason pigs smell is that they are kept in filthy pens). I also brought home the occasional bullsnake and so on, including a pair of orphaned opossums. All this to a semi-suburban house with a standard yard. They stayed with us for various durations, some until new homes could be found, some for their lifetimes (which tended to be short for chickens), others were rehoused for our mutual benefit (the pig was not an especially good or happy housepet). I suppose nowadays the city would have something to say about all that. I kind of followed that pattern, on a lesser scale. Had a house-rabbit for awhile, a white rat adopted from my Skinner Box psychology project, a beautiful German Shepherd (who is staring at me this moment from an old photo, God I miss you sometimes Julia), cats, fancy rats, and of course Billie Bird (who sits on my shoulder as I type). What I learned from all that inter-species interaction was simply that every sentient being has a soul and a personality and perspective, waiting only to emerge as we got to know each other. It's a universe that is far more than human, thank God.
One of our kitties was also a fetcher of trash balls. We had a party one night, and this cat spent four solid hours carrying her trash ball from person to person, conning everyone into playing fetch with her. She was quite a girl. She was also one of our best mousers, though she couldn't touch one of the black cats for mouser skills.
Published in 1883, American Etiquette and Rules of Politeness outlines the rules for men going horseback riding with a woman, noting that the gentleman should “be very careful in selecting her horse, and should procure one that she can easily manage.” He is also admonished to “trust nothing to the stable men, without personal examination,” and to “be constantly on the lookout for anything that might frighten the lady’s horse.”
I saved a cat yesterday. Friend's cat had a blocked bladder so I paid the fee to have the emergency vet fit a catheter. Extortionate at £300. Ungrateful little shit still won't come near me though (the cat, not the friend).
Today I learned that there was a very popular boy-band in Sweden in the 1980s called the Herreys (3 brothers). They won the 1984 Eurovision contest with a song about golden shoes. If you'd like to listen to the song:
