And we got two very pregnant cats in from the cold.

Snip your cats, people. They, or their offspring will die painful deaths in these temperatures.

I took one of the mothers-to-be into my flat. She is a tortoiseshell, and without the enormous belly, she would have been a petit miss.

We know nothing about her. How old she is, if she has had kittens before. What she has been eating, where she has lived. What deseases or injuries she may have. At the bursting-point of pregnancy, is not the time to transport, stress, poke, medicate or hassle a homeless cat. She will have her kittens, then we shall see. So I figured I had to build trust and get to know her fast. I belong to the school of thinking – let animals be left in peace, and when they are ready, they will come to you. No time for that here.

I could feel the kittens kick, roll and do somersault in her belly. She was remarkably friendly, considering she was homeless and had been for some time. She wanted to be petted, but seemed unfamiliar with the idea of sitting on a human lap. I let her snake around my feet, I would get down on the floor and she would head-butt and scent-mark me.

She acted more and more pregnant. She snored, she fell asleep in the middle of something, she farted, burped, ate like a docker and after a few days began to make strange little noises of presumably discomfort. She would growl oddly, rest for hours, stagger around the flat on four stilts, overloaded with a bulging, pendulous belly full of little terrors. They would wake her up when she slept. I could watch the alien-like multiple movements in her belly, and I could see them waking up their long-suffering mum. She would whimper in her sleep, and wake with a jolt.

I have never been present at any kind of mammal birth, so I scoured the internet and read the same patently obvious advice over and over. Cats usually manage fine on their own, do not meddle, observe. The thing is, I suspect some of the advice is pointless or invalid when you deal with a homeless cat you do not know, and that does not know you. You have no medical history, no history, you have no bond, you do not know how she will react to things, or if she is afraid or agressive towards various things and objects. I made her a nesting box, turned up the heat in the flat, and packed a maternity bag with all sorts of sterile doodads.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Then the night before valentines, I noticed she altered behaviour slightly. Then she tried to dig underneath my duvet, and within three minutes, contractions started. She wanted to give birth in my bed but I was not so keen on that, so I managed to gently convince her otherwise, but she wanted to lie as close to me as possible. Two golden kittens popped out in quick succession, and mum had all under control. Then a black one partly appeared, she was getting really tired, so we pulled him/her out. Then number four a good while later, she pushed out and just lay there. The poor kitten in its little sack, with placenta and umbilical cord still attached.

I tied the umbilical cord, cut it and removed the placenta. Mum had dutifully eaten the previous ones, but she just seemed exhausted, and made no effort to clean the wee thing, so we did. After a little cajoling, she began licking him.

Mum had a little break, ate a little, and seemed to get a little more comfortable and regain some strenght.

My co-midwife went home, and as she was out the door, kitten number five effortlessly popped out, another little golden treasure, two hours after the previous. Mum was back on track, and did the placenta & umbilical cord business, but then ignored the wee thing, wet, slimy and brand new.

I put him under her nose, nature resumed, and she licked him clean and dry. The thing is, I read every daft article on the internet about kittening, but what they all seem to fail informing about is how long one particular thing could or should last. For example, they say “..if a kitten is stuck…”, but what does that mean? how long is it ok for a kitten to be half-way out, or how long for a kitten to stay in the sack, connected to the placenta? I have no idea.

Anyway. At six in the morning I decided I needed some sleep and the family needed some rest and quality time. One little golden creature kept screaming though, and I just wanted him to find a nipple. I found one for him, and tried to nudge him towards it. He started going after my fingers instead… daft little thing!

I had a fag, a pee, some water, and when I came back all was quiet. Good or bad sign? If I  started to fiddle around in her pile of kittens, fur and nipples, I would have upset more than I fixed. I decided to put my faith in good-man Darwin, and I went to bed.

Next morning, the shelter vet called me as I had requested, and on two hours sleep, I went to see if we had five..or four kittens. I was relieved to find five little adorable terrors hassling their mum.

Every time I walk into the nursery (kittenry?) to sit quietly to watch, she takes the opportunity to get out of the box to eat, leaving me between her and the pile of live fur. Her litter crawls around, squealing for her, and she eats and eats and eats…  here she is, a homeless cat, she has been for a good while, trusting me with her kittens.

One cool cat.

For the record:
Chilli, Safran, Mango, Marmelade, Kanel.
(Chili, Saffron, Mango, Marmalade, Cinnamon)
13.02.12: 23:39 orange
13.02.12: 23:47 orange and white
14.02.12: 00:50 black
14.02.12: 02:00 orange
14.02.12: 03:47 orange

Anthropomorphism

It is human to see human responses around us, and we have the ability for abstraction. So we apply human patterns to animals and objects. “An evil wind blows..”

Computers are “thinking”, when that little spinny beachball or hourglass pops up. I assure you, computers do not think, they compute. And crash. And they do not have malicious thoughts by themselves, try to trip you up or attempts to confuse you originating from any inherited intelligence. It may seem that way at times though; “it is doing it again” is a classic line often heard on computer support. It insinuates that the machinery have a mind of its own, and therefore the user does not have any influence, responsibility or impact. This is what supportpeople call pebkac. Problem Exists Between Keyboard And Chair.

Most people would not see human traits in a cockroach, say, a frog or a shark. But we all do it, particularly to big-eyed, furry mammals. Large heads, big eyes and mammarian glands seems to be a prerequisite. Of course, primates tops the list. It seems we have to see our abilities in them to have empathy. It has been argued for many years that for example fish does not feel. A preposterous argument based on no evidence whatsoever. Just a convenient conclusion.

Sometimes the interpretation can be correct, but do not take it for granted. Sometimes it is wishful thinking. Let snoozing lion lie.

People read expressions in animals and get very very surprised when the animal does not react accordingly or do not understand that we are “the good guys”. There have been incidents where seemingly happy and domesticated animals have killed or mauled their owners. To much surprise, “Buster was such a happy, caring tiger”. Right.

This is the – at times – very misguided idea that animals understands us, and we them. The obvious examples would of course be people like TImothy Treadwell that lived with grizzly bears, played with their cubs, and argued that he “communicated” with them and protected them. Until they ate him. A Darwin Award for eco-warrior Mr. Treadwell. And various people who have kept wild animals, believe to have them under control, and then being killed by them. It is not because the cat is malicious. It is because we interpret the behavioural patterns as similar to ours.

Dressing up animals in human clothes we remove their species identity and apply our own. It is fun in myths and stories, and can work as metaphors, but it is not doing us or their species any favours.

Cats and dogs, in particular, of course, as they have been domesticated for many many years are usually victims of this. We “know” each other. And we give them  toys in multiple colours looking like human-baby toys. Many animals have poor colour vision, so this is not for their benefit, but for ours. It is cute. Funnily, animals often are in that respect like human children: often they prefer to play with the box the gift came in, an old sock, a post-it or a twig. Any old rubbish lying around, and the expensive “pet furniture” stands untouched.

I am not opposed to pet toys or brightly coloured things. But I am opposed to humans  applying our wishes and preferences on animals. Such as giving a cat a nightlight. I mean, really. Cats are predators, they hunt at night, their night vision and sense of smell and hearing leaves us in the dust. In fact, studies shows that cats see better at night than in daylight. Which means, that for the cats sake, turn the light off.

For thousands of years, we kept cats to get rid of vermin. They had a job, to catch mice. Still there are famous mousers in the distilleries in Scotland that do a very important job. I love whisky, and I do not want any mouse poo in my barley, thankyou. I do not think those cats are cuddled much. I do not think they lie in front of a fire or on a lap (I have met a couple). Yet I do believe they are taken good care of (good mousers being hard to find), and I believe they have fine lives. A cat does not, from some mythical primordial state, natively belong in a human lap.

Now, cats are pets, and the catching of mice is a nuisance. Our expectations of cats have changed. Over time, the cats with less ability to drag headless rodents home and dump them on the carpet might be the ones that win out. Certainly, cats that get along with humans, fulfil our expectations and wishes, will have better lives and better chances of survival and possibly reproduction. There is no such thing as the primeval original, when there is constant adaptation. A good life for a cat does not mean spoonfeeding or a loopy lady calling herself “mammy”, nattering on with babytalk. Just because they have soft fur, does not mean they appreciate or need being petted all day long.

Our expectations of animals determine their quality of life and chances of survival. As these expectations change over time, so the animals will try to adapt as well as they can. Humans should not underestimate species other than our own, nor try to make them more like us. After all. A lot of us are not really all that nice.

Someone mailed the shelter, asking them to take a kitty back or have it put down, as it was catching mice.

A large portions of people suddenly develops allergies, particularly around holidays.

One guy had a kitty with a smashed paw around for six days, before calling. And then the reason for him calling was not the missing paw, but that the landlord would not let him have the cat anymore. He insisted the wee thing was fine. He said it was not his cat, but then in another sentence said he mentioned they thought he was a she when they got him. Just one of several contradictions. The poor thing came in with the untreated mangled paw, stinking, black and decaying flesh hanging in strips, and bone sticking out. Yea, he was fine.

I wish these people could at least lie a little more convincingly. It would prevent me from hating mankind. If the guy had kept the story simple, he could have been a hero, instead I now want to defecate in his mailbox. He could have just said he had found this poor thing outside, and thought of the shelter. End of story. He would have been a saviour. Now, he is the model of a disgusting human being.

Someone left their house for over four months. Just poured cat food over the floor and left. A caretaker or plumber found the cats. They had been drinking out of the loo, and there was cat poo everywhere. One of the cats darted out the door as helpers came in, and have not been seen since. One male, a mere kitten when abandoned, was scared and shy for a few days, and then turned out to be the most loveable creature.

A box with two rabbits was found in the parking garage of the local shopping centre. Another in a cardboard box among rubbish at a motorway rest stop. A kitten thrown out of the window of a car. Some people apparently throw kittens through the gate of the shelter. Which is at least not directly cruel, and has a mildly comical side, as there is no actual fence. Just forest. Try to shepherd cats.

see the homeless ones.

Kurt Vonnegut

A carpenter was commissioned to build some boxes for a SPCA cat shelter. This is what he did. He did not even bother to pretend to do a half decent job.

This guy have a three-year apprenticeship, cutting pieces of wood, using a drill, sandpaper and a saw. Screws juts out on the inside of the cages, the doors do not close. Distressed animals will injure themselves on these. I could have done a better job! It would have taken me ages, but I would have done a better job.

I was a teaching assistant at the university college, and one of my students came whining one day, that he had to read. That there was books with words in them. That he was expected to read. He actually said, and I quote, “I canna do it! I try! I open the first page and there are all these words!”

I smiled sweetly and said, “well maybe you should do something else. Maybe you should become a bus driver or a carpenter instead”. He was deeply offended, his classmates rekindled their hatred of me.

I regret that comment now. It turns out you can be as incompetent as a carpenter, as you could be unfit for anything vaguely academic, such as reading. The difference between rubbish carpentry and shoddy academic work is depressingly obvious. A bad house will fall down. A bad thesis will have no impact on anything. You can set fire to both, though, and you probably should.

Art can be made out of any old rubbish. Craft cannot. If you are not in fine art, you are in craft, and there is a quality gauge. If you cannot sign your work with excellence, at least do not inflict injury on homeless kittys.

I woke up yesterday, to a flood of warnings on facebook, telling me about this deeply disturbed individual, and that several dogs had already died. Even in my grumpy pre-coffee morning haze, something smelled a little off.

A few hours later the media backtracked, and the mystery was solved. It turned out it was the commendable tradition of Oslo Hash House Harriers, beer-drinkers with a running problem. A very british ex-pat invention, the Hash House Harriers have a hare that leaves a trail, the hounds follow, and beer is consumed at the end. This, incidentaly, is maybe the only kind of fitness group I could see myself join and enjoy. The trail is environmentally friendly sawdust or flour. Figures.

But here is the mystery… how, HOW does this happen? How does the connection of “my dog sniffed some sawdust” go to “my dog sniffed some sawdust and then got diarrhea”, and then to “dogs sniffed sawdust and diiiiied!” then further to “INSANE MAN poisons dogs!” HOW does this happen? Who add that crucial sentence, “man (because that was what it said) poisons dogs, dogs have died”?!

Apparently a pet-shop had a sign up, saying this. But where did it start?! There must be a single human that added drama to the “dog sniffs stuff”, and others who escalates.

The papers contacted the local humane-societies, the veterinary institute, the food safety authority and the police. The society for prevention of cruelty to animals says they have had several reports of sick dogs. The canines are apparently listless, have diarrhea and do not eat well. A far cry from being dead, and certainly not an uncommon malady, partics with the gunky weather here now.

A dog sniffs and licks a million things outside, and some of them enjoy rolling around in dog poo. But how, oh, mystery, hooow did this canard happen?

Facebook is practically untrackable. The information there is nearly impossible to source, and one feather turns into five hens, as the saying goes. People are sentimental, they see a status warning of this terribly disturbed man, and dare not not share it. It is about social conscience. The thing is, if you do not share it, it does not mean that you want dogs killed, but it plays on our love for animals, our conscience, a social responsibility to warn others of possible misfortune. And so it generates, escalates and goes haywire. And viral.

And then the newspapers pick it up, and parrots random facebookers who cannot even spell instead of doing a little research.

Use your heads, people. If you wanted to poison dogs. Would sawdust be the first thing that springs to mind? If dogs have died, do you not think the teary face of the owner of some mutt would be all over the media within 30 seconds of said mutts demise? Dead cats? Birds? Rats? And not the least. Facebook updates with a million exclamation marks after it does not inspire confidence.

I would really like to know how this works: the gears of this process is not easily figured out; the “social media” is a messy tangle with  lots of dead ends. A curious similarity to the aim of the hares of the Hash House Harriers.

Will someone please do some solid research on this?

Note. I said solid.

..and the top pic is of highly-alive Grainne (look up the irish pronounciation), my Aussie dog-friend.

 “Imagine an electronic page for each species of organism on Earth..

Encyclopedia of life is an amazing, insane undertaking. E. O. Wilson did a delightful, rambling TED-talk, and things actually happened. A lot of people apparently got together, large sums of money was involved, an awful lot of meetings, I presume, and a website was born. With a whole bunch of impressive collaborators, they started building a page for every living thing. Every living named thing, I should say. We do not really know how may species there is on earth.

Personally, I thought the site was awful. Then – Hurrah! – they rebuilt and redesigned recently. It got much better, I certainly approve. It is made by scientists and the public; we can all contribute, and the information is moderated by scientists. I love the idea, I love the insane ambition of it, I love living things, and I think it is both scientifically and individually important. This is a good start for having a positive dander through a website. Through lifeforms, actually. I excitedly open the brand new EOL. Not unreasonably, I am met with a large search box.

And there I sat. What to search for? Pathetically, I typed in “cat”. I messed around with felidae. You and me can contribute to EOL, so I amused myself looking for pics of peoples pets. I imagine a lot of people would think it wonderous to have their tabby put in encyclopedic context for all the world to see. Then I did “elephant shrew”. Because they are the funniest little things. I fiddle about with the taxonomy for a bit, but my latin is not good enough, my understanding of taxonomy a little shaky, their tree a little unclear (Taxonomy, by the way, is a scary, scary thing, but that is a different chapter). So, as is so often the case, finding something specific, the known-item-search is wonderfully easy. It is the discovering that is a problem.

UI & UX. Unknown terms to many. It stands for usability and user interface; we all know when these things do not work. It is a bit like only noticing the surface you are driving on when it is full of potholes.

I have to say, EOL is not full of potholes. They are doing a lot of things right. But here is what I would have liked to play with, what I would like to discover. If I was the president of the universe, EOL would have these things for me to explore… find living things that have the colour green. All things with fur that lives in Marocco. What creatures are parasites, what have symbiotic relations? (The disturbing Cymothoa exigua, the tongue-eating louse springs to mind) Who eats who? What species overlap where? What is the food chain for a deepwater anglerfish, a bobcat, a tapir? What do humans make and eat of various species? Why are there no green mammals? What species have their closest relation on another contient? Show me all creatures with wings. How many species of dragonflies? What species are directly dependent on each other, and which species are mutually beneficial? I can go on and on and on. I am a little Napoleonic here maybe, EOL is a massive undertaking as it is.

And maybe it is a good thing they do not have this. If EOL ever get these things, I would never leave the site, and get nothing done.

Of course, making this would be either the nightmare of a lifetime, or the most fun you could possibly have. A million potholes, and a million things that can go wrong, I see piles of technical problems, itches and conundrums. But I mean; imagine… dream…

hey – she’s leaving, taking nuts away..

fraternising with the IT-crowd

anyone but me seeing the beauty of the book, the running fridge geeky t-shirt and the craniums peeping out of the cupboards behind?

ashes to ashes, dust to dust (this is what we are)

pretzel nonsense. cheap thrills.

I haz nut too

Playing with the squirrels outside the museum of natural history makes sense. There’s a good deal of them around; easy to spot in leafless trees. Apparently, the museum have The squirrel expert. We pass his office and nook down the corridor now and then. Squirrel corner, with squirrel cartoons. Wonder if he eats nuts for brekkie.

the guy from the Smithsonian office of protection service calling the albino squirrel. She used to live down by air & space, apparently.. He seemed happy she was back.

True albino squirrel. Decisions: eat nut, or dig it into the ground?

from squirrel corner: