That's a lot of books!!

That pile doesn’t include a few books I have in my “reading” pile, or the books on my Kindle. As I type I am thinking of a few shelves I forgot to pull from as well, so lets add at least ten more books to this pile. I think I have enough books here to read the rest of the year. Problem is I bought some of these books years ago and for whatever reason didn’t get to read them right away, and now have lost interest in reading them. Which leaves me with a conundrum. Do I read the book just because I bought it? Or do I skip it and move on to other books I really want to read. What about the books I want to re-read? Life isn’t long enough to read all the books I want, or do all the things I want to do. So where do I give!?

This would all be so much easier if I could just retreat to the woods for a few weeks and do nothing but read. Would that be allowed?

Having said  that there are a few things I want to actually do with the new calendar year as well. One of those is to get more active with my blog. I loved the month of NaNoBloMo, it was great getting feedback and knowing people were reading my work! I am not a big person for goals, they can make our focus too rigid and cause us to lose sight of the truly important things in life, but I have a few goals for 2012.

• Read 50 books
• Finish writing my children’s book
• Improve my time management
• Blog every week
• Improve blog, and interactions with other bloggers.
• Create/find a balance in life between work, school, cat rescue, social life, and Katie time. (this one is gonna be tough, so many things I “have” to do, want to do, and “should” do, just not enough hours in the day for them all!)
• Establish an exercise routine. If I happen to lose weight in the process all the better, I just need to take better care of my body/mind.
• Be a better friend/girlfriend.  (I thank my friends for sticking around, I know I haven’t always been the best of friends and have been a little, uh, difficult? this past year.  My friends, especially my B and M are so important to me, I don’t know where I would be without them and will work so hard to be more contious of my behavior/interactions with them. I hope they will gently kick me if I do certain things again.)
• Take risks and step outside my comfort zone
• Be more aware of my thoughts
• Be happy, have fun, and make the most out of my short time on this planet.

I would also like to find some time and money to take a vacation, maybe visit my family in California again. This will depend in part upon finding a decent job and my old grandpa-cat’s health. So many things to do this year! Perhaps I am setting the bar too high, another thing I need to work on this year. Ah well, step by step I will figure this crazy life out. Let’s hope this year gives some good insights.

Blessings to everyone, may 2012 be a wonderful year for all of us!

As most children do I started doubting the existence of Santa somewhere around 2nd or 3rd grade.  I had seen my parents buy me a few things that were labeled as “from Santa” and I realized the logistics of one person traveling around the world, making toys etc was just about impossible. And the fact that all my toys were store bought didn’t help things. Though the first time I had real doubts about Santa was probably the Christmas I asked Santa for a kitten. One of our cats had died a few years before and, as most kids do, I wanted a kitten. I asked the department store Santa for a kitten and he told me that he couldn’t bring live animals in the sleigh. That same Christmas my cousin got a bird from Santa. I was very mad. In my little mind either Santa lied to me or my aunt and uncle said the bird was from Santa but really wasn’t.

Sitting on Santa's lap when I was 5 years old.

A few years latter when I had serious questions and doubts I retreated to the library and looked up books on Christmas and Santa. I will admit I was crushed when I read that the tradition of Santa started over 400 years ago. All the pieces fell into place for me that day. All my doubts were confirmed, but as stubborn as I am, I still refused to admit that Santa was not real. I didn’t want to lose the innocence (though at the time I didn’t call it that) or the magic. I desperately wanted Santa to exist. I still do.  In fact, I would say I still believe in Santa. Santa Claus is the spirit of love and giving. Santa gives from the goodness of his heart, he gives simply to make others happy.  He represents the magic of childhood, the goodness that is in all people. To steal a bit from The Polar Express, Santa represents the magic that can happen if you just believe–in the impossible, in yourself, in other people.

In the 1970′s stop motion show “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town!” narrated by Fred Astaire the story closes with the Narrator explaining to the children that not everyone loves Santa. He then says “Poor, misguided folks. They missed the whole point. Lot’s of unhappiness? Maybe so. But doesn’t Santa take a little bit of that unhappiness away? Doesn’t a smile on Christmas morning scratch out a tear cried on a sadder day? Not much maybe. But what would happen if we all tried to be like Santa and learned to give as only he can give: of ourselves, our talents, our love and our hearts? Maybe we could all learn Santa’s beautiful lesson and maybe there would finally be peace on Earth and good will toward men.” I hold with that notion. I carry the spirit of Santa and Christmas in my heart every year. While some of the magic is gone for me, I will do my best to bring that magic and love to others at Christmas and throughout the year.

That is why I believe in Santa.

I should also mention I don’t believe, at the heart of things, belief in Santa is at opposition with the Christian belief in Christmas as the birth of the baby Jesus.  If you look at the heart of the message of Santa he is all about love and peace and goodness towards other humans, which in a very basic way is also what Jesus preached. Of course there is much more to Jesus than there is to Santa, and I am not in anyway trying to say they  are the same, just that they can teach children the same meanings of peace and love and goodwill towards man.

Merry Christmas everyone!

I was lucky enough to attend a lecture of Dr. Goodall’s in May of 2010. It was fascinating and inspiring. I bought most of her books and had her then most recent book Hope for Animals and Their World: How Endangered Species Are Being Rescued from the Brink autographed. I even got to take a picture with her! She has done so much for animals the world over, I was thrilled. I am in the process of reading Hope for Animals, and while it is inspirational to see the work of so many dedicated individuals the world over, it has caused some problems for me as well. The main concern is the role of cats as predators in so many of these stories.

Cats, introduced as non-native species to islands including Australia, have been detrimental to species such as the Mala or Rufus-Hare Wallaby in Australia and a number of flightless birds on tropical islands such as the Galapagos. They have proven to be a particular problem with the flightless birds who have never learned the flight-or -fight instinict essential for their survival. Dr. Goodall shares a story of how a cat on Stephen’s Island, New Zealand, “killed all eighteen of the last Stephen’s  Island wrens known to science, and laid them at its owner’s doorstep.”* Reading that I envisioned my two feral girls depositing mice on my deck and even attempting to bring me a baby bird. Unfortunately the cats, mostly feral, of these islands have caused so much trouble that those dedicated to restoring the endangered bird population and securing the habitat for these birds have had to remove the cats, and many other invasive species. In  this case other species includes pigs, goats, and rats. Even more unfortunate is that in these cases “remove” is synonomous with “kill.”

Reading the introduction to the fourth part of Hope for Animals I found myself upset and  torn. Dr. Goodall writes about her mixed feelings at first, how it is unfair that these cats and other innocent animals brought to the island against their will have to be killed for only done what they are programed to do–survive. She writes how she has always advocated for the individual, “but after learning how some of the efforts to save the very last members of an amazing and unique species–such as the kakapo or the Zino’s petrel–almost failed because of cat predation” she had to “rethink my position.”** Dr. Goodall also writes that “sterilization, as sometimes practiced with stray dogs and cats, simply wouldn’t work [...]“***

This leaves me heart broken. I have spent so much of my life working to rescue cats, to promote the use of TNR and advocate for the rights of all animals.  How often I have fought the “bird people” who say that feral cats will destroy native bird populations which are not endangered, and here I have a leading conservationist telling me a story of a cat wiping out the last members of a species! I cannot reconcile my believe and support of TNR with my support for keeping endangered species alive.

I know from first hand experience that I can’t save all the animals. In the end this comes down to a humans trying to fix the mess other humans got us into–over population of cats, introduction of invasive species, hunting (by humans and animals) of species till they are endangered, and overall poor management of the planet we live on. But the bleeding heart inside of me can’t help but cry at the thought of all those other innocent animals–cats, pigs, goats etc–being killed. Especially the cats.

This concern brings me, in turn, to the thought of how some people work so hard to bring a population back from extinction, increasing their numbers to a more sustainable number, while others of us work so hard to reduce the number of a population–namely dogs and cats–so that THEIR population is sustainable and thousands need not be killed needlessly each year. What a mess we humans have, in part, created. As I said above it all comes down to humans and our clumsy and often ignorant management of the planet we have. We have destroyed and exploited the natural resources we have been given so that we can survive and expand, something we have done far too well. We have killed thousands of millions of innocents along the way (human and animals), and exploited others to meet our needs better. We have, for the most part, been horrible stewards of the one planet we have been given.

I intend to look into why sterilization of feral cats and dogs on these islands won’t work, I would assume the basic principle of decreasing numbers eventually leading to no more kittens and thus a colony eventually dying out, would hold on a tropical island as well as in the heart of a busy city.  But I will also assume, because I have to for my own sanity, that the experts have tried this and not just ruled it out by default. I also realize that these island situations are different than situations in America and Europe because cats were introduced by humans and the wildlife had not evolved to survive preditation from animals such as cats. Part of me wants to say “Well it’s survival of the fittest. If those birds can’t adapt then they deserve to be wiped out.”  We can’t let that happen though, not when it was humans fault in the first place.

I know I am not going to have a resolution to my internal moral dilemma anytime soon, but I would be fascinated to hear what others have to say. I request only that all comments be respectful.  I am including a link to the website for Alley Cat Allies, the nation’s leading advocate for feral cats. Their site has articles discussion predation by feral cats in America, and their role in the environment. You can visit the website for the book Hope for Animals here.

*pg 225

** pg 225

*** pg 225

Tiny Kittens

I have two “pet” cats who are 16 years old. They are in every respect my babies, they have been with me since they were 8 weeks old. A little over two years ago their brother died, very suddenly and unexpectedly, in his sleep. It was one of the hardest days of my life. That’s him at the top of my blog. My big brown Sammy baby. His full name was Uncle Sam and he was the most personable cat I have ever met. I loved him with all my heart, and I will forever be grateful for the 14 wonderful years I had with him.

He loved people, anyone who would touch him but especially my uncle who is allergic. Sam loved to get his tummy rubbed, he loved to barge in on you when he needed attention. He also loved to cause trouble if he thought it meant he would get attention. In his book any attention was good attention, even if he was getting yelled at. Which he was, quite frequently.  While he was the sweetest cat at home–we joked that if someone broke into the house Sam would have asked the robber to pet his tummy–he was a wild beast at the vet. He occasionally had to be sedated to go to the vet, though we didn’t stay with that doctor very long. He did require staff to wear “battle gear” thick falconers gloves and a muzzle on Sam.

Look at that cat! Seriously, how could you resist that belly?

Shortly before he died he was diagnosed as hyperthyroid. His brother was already hyperthyroid so I figured giving pills to two cats wouldn’t be a big deal. Boy was I wrong. Sam could be difficult when it suited his needs, and being difficult for medicine suited his needs quite nicely. Oh could that cat find interesting ways to not take a pill. There was one morning I was pilling him and his brother and I remember thinking to myself, “I can’t keep doing this twice a day for God knows how many more years.”  When he died I wanted to kick myself for saying that; I would have done anything to have my Sam back, even just for a short period so I could properly say goodbye to him. (I was at work when he died, I got the horrible phone call from my mom in the middle of one of the craziest and most understaffed days I can remember, then had to drive home in rush hour traffic bawling hysterically the entire time).

Losing Sam was one of the hardest things I have had to deal with. Thinking back on it though, I am glad he went when he did and how he did. He died peacefully in his sleep, most likely from a heart attack.  He didn’t suffer. I didn’t have to make a decision about letting him go. He went when it was his time. He didn’t have to suffer from disease or go through medicines twice daily for years on end. I was thinking about that tonight when I gave his brother and sister their sub-q fluids. I couldn’t imagine having to give Sam fluids, he would have been horrible for it. It would have stressed both of us out. It would have been too much–for him and for me. So while I miss him horribly at times, and would give just about anything to hold him in my arms one more time, I have to try being grateful for simple things. Grateful he didn’t suffer and linger in a long illness. Grateful that neither he nor I had  to go through the stress of hydrating him or more frequent trips to the vet. Somehow though, this all just makes me feel guilty.

Had to sit in the chip basket before the chips went in.

Part of this joy simply came from being around like minded people. People who love cats, who want to make a difference in the lives of needy animals and who are passionate about rescue animals. Part of it came from doing the work I am meant to do.  I spent the second half of the night at a planning meeting, explaining social media strategies and  coming up with a plan in place for our future social media endeavors.  Since this is partially what I want to do for my livelihood, it was great to know that people actually consider me skilled in this field. It was also great to apply it to a cause I feel so strongly about.

It is just refreshing to know there is something I am good at and someplace I belong; especially now when life is so crazy and uncertain. It is good to know that even when it leaves me sad and burnt out, animal rescue really is my passion and my calling. It is good to know that I belong somewhere.

I am proud of myself for sitting down and writing though. I am proud of the progress I made this month not just on my children’s book but also on my blog. And on my dream of being a writer. I was reminded why I enjoy writing, and how nice it is to have people read what I write.

Now that I have taken a fresh start to my book, I will have more to blog about. I sat down to write this evening and I think I made more progress on the story than I did in the past month with the previous version. It feels good. I have many journeys ahead of me with writing and with life in general. I will be sure to update frequently, though it will be nice to not have to constantly manage a blog, there are some days I just don’t want to blog.  So, until next time, thank you all for sharing my journey!

As such, I am considering combining my blogs. In addition to Kat’s Literary Adventures, I have my original blog, Tails from the Street, my first blog detailing my work in cat rescue. I found that it was too limited though, I mean there really are limits to how much one can talk about cats. I started this blog when I decided to write a children’s book. But I find this too is limited.

There are times I want to talk about something more general, or perhaps combine my thoughts. So, I am going to give a little more consideration, but will most likely be combining my blogs this weekend. I am excited about this, hopefully it will streamline my life a little. I hope I don’t lose any readers, but I am willing to take that risk to share my two passions with the world.

I was thinking about what stories have shaped me and my desire to be a writer, when I was struck by the different way we tell stories. Not all are written down, not all are shared with hundreds of people or even considered a story in the snobby English major sense. Stories can be told through pictures, through sculptures, through the way an individual decorates their house or their car; through the way a person dresses. I think one of the most interesting and personal ways we tell stories though is through our Christmas trees.  I am aware that not everyone has a Christmas tree, and that people celebrate different holidays, but for simplicity’s sake, I am going to generalize.

Each year we pull out our boxes of ornaments, each carefully wrapped from the year before. In my house at least, unwrapping them is like Christmas morning, because you don’t know what you are going to find in the shreds of well worn tissue paper or paper towel. It’s always a surprise. But then, when you remember what the ornament is, you get a little smile on your face. Remembering the story behind the ornament, where it came from, what year you got it, the people you were with. Each little piece of painted plastic, glass or ceramic tells its own little story.

The heart locket

There are a few ornaments on my tree that I hold particularly close. The first is a heart shaped ornament that opens to reveal a little scene inside of a family bringing home a Christmas tree. On the bottom it says 1991. Along those same lines there is a little chestnut looking ornament that opens to reveal Santa and a little boy talking on old fashioned phones. The ornaments themselves are not particularly appealing in their own rights but they hold such strong memories from childhood. I would spend hours at night sitting by the glow of my tiny Christmas tree staring at these ornaments with such fascination. I am not sure what drew me to them. I think even then I was telling stories about the scenes depicted in the open ornaments.

These fond memories of Christmas past are one of the reasons I hold these ornaments so dear. The other is what they represent to me. These two ornaments were given to me by my grandma. She died when I was in second grade, and I don’t remember her very well. I have vague memories and a great sadness when I think of her. I love these little ornaments because they remind me of her. They connect me to her over the years.  They also connect me to my cousin, who has matching ornaments. I couldn’t tell you why that means so much to me, but it does.

Inside the heart....family, Christmas, love.

I also have a little mouse from the Disney version of Cinderella. My grandpa got it for me at McDonald’s one year. I am not particularly fond of Cinderella, but I love that mouse.  I have to put it up every year, because of the memories it brings back, sitting in my grandparents kitchen, on this high stool/chair thing.

So when we are thinking of the stories that get us through the day, lets not forget the stories we tell ourselves, not only at Christmas but everyday. And when you are getting stressed about making the Christmas tree look just right, take a moment, stop and remember why you do it all–for family, for friends, for happy memories and love.