Tag: writing

Moms Are The Best! Happy Mother’s Day!

Let your mom know you love her today!

I have a lame joke whenever my mom says something like “I’m a pretty good mom, right?”

I say “Sure, if you don’t count like 4,479 other moms,” often going through a list of mothers we know, including her friends, and ranking her below all of them.

But of course she knows I love her wholeheartedly and consider her the best mom, not “just” out of love but also recognition that she had a very difficult job as a single mom to my brother and I. It couldn’t have been easy raising two idiots like us.

My brother turned out to be a good dude, a well-respected member of the community and someone people look up to, and I turned out to be…well, me, but she shouldn’t hold that against herself. One out of two ain’t bad!

Moms make the world work. To be a good mother is to be utterly selfless, to always put your children first no matter how tired you are or how bad of a day you’re having. Moms give of themselves to ensure their children grow up happy, healthy and with a decent shot at life.

From nursing us and wiping our behinds as helpless babies, to soothing us when we scrape our knees as toddlers, to guiding us as we discover the world as kids, tolerating our insistence that we Know Everything as teenagers, and reassuring us during moments of uncertainty as adults, moms are always there for us and want the best for us.

Cats are extraordinary mothers to their kittens, and they don’t have it easy, especially if they are strays or ferals. Their love for their babies is so strong, they’re willing to run into raging fires for them. I’ll never forget a story one reader told me about her adopted stray, Snowy, who delivered kittens shortly after securing her new indoor home. Snowy died defending her babies from a pair of dogs who tried to get at them while they were on a back porch. The woman kept Snowy’s daughter and found good homes for the other kittens.

I’ve blogged about this before, but while I do not call myself Bud’s “dad,” and prefer to think of us as best pals, enablers, and co-conspirators in our ridiculous plots for world domination, I do have parental feelings for my Little Buddy, and consider it my privilege to be his caretaker until the day he finally hits mythical felid maturity and turns into a hulking and fearsome tiger. (Do NOT tell him it’s not going to happen, he is absolutely convinced it’ll be any time now. He’ll be yuge and orange, just you wait!)

But of course he would not be such a fine young Buddy if not for his feline mom, who may not have smacked him upside the head as much as was probably warranted, but nonetheless admirably prepared him to take over his forever home and install himself as King.

So to all the moms out there, human and feline, we love you and we’re eternally grateful for your love.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Kitten Buddy lounging in my lap, probably about 10 weeks old.

Airline Introduces ‘Fat Tax’: Why Pet Parents Should Care

Credited to an “activist investor,” one airline has redoubled efforts to squeeze money out of travelers — and people traveling with pets could be next.

Travelers are calling it a “fat tax.”

The anecdotes, which have been popping up all over social media platforms this week, are similar: flyers show up to the airport, a counter person looks them up and down, then declares the flyer will have to purchase a second seat or give up their spot on the plane.

That this is happening on Southwest Airlines, long praised as the most considerate toward “passengers of size,” is even more surprising. SF Gate attributes the dramatic shift in policy, which is apparently just one of many, to an “activist investor.”

It doesn’t say who that “activist investor” is, but it’s difficult to imagine a person wealthy enough to own a significant portion of an airline developing a personal vendetta after bad experiences in crowded coach. This is something different, driven by the desire to extract more money from travelers with rent-seeking behavior. That sort of thing, an “activist investor” certainly would do. Boosting profits without creating any value has become the calling card of America’s financial ruling class.

Which is why it’s likely this problem was created by the airlines in the first place, and why pet caretakers should be wary. (And no, not because felines like my Bud are a little too fond of the yums.)

Airlines are always looking for ways to add new seats, and every year brings new “innovations” to reclaim space centimeter by centimeter so the airlines can sell extra tickets.

Credit: Anthony Baratier/Wikimedia Commons

We’ve long since become cattle. I’m 5’10” and I’ve been on flights in which my knees barely fit between the seat in front of me and my own. I always wonder: what would I do if I were taller? How the heck does someone, say, 6’2″ sit in one of these seats?

The effort to squeeze more money from travelers isn’t limited to the new “fat tax” either. From “premium economy” upsells that don’t yield more space to ever-shrinking carry-on limits, airlines continue to find new routes into our wallets, making us pay more for the same product.

And that’s why those of us with pets should be worried. It’s a short leap from a “fat tax” to a “cat tax.”

“You’ll be in coach while I take my place in first class, human.”

Most airlines treat people traveling with pets as a nuisance to begin with, and if they haven’t already, Southwest’s “activist investor” is likely to find new ways to squeeze people traveling with cats and dogs. (In my head, I imagine this “activist investor” as a vaguely Stephen Milleresque figure, with twitchy eyes betraying the rage bubbling below a calm exterior. “Let them sit elbow to elbow as they cradle their animals,” he laughs from his first-class seat. “Muahahaha!”)

The fact that this “fat tax” is arbitrary should scare all of us. If the whim of a counter clerk is what determines whether someone has to buy an extra seat, then who’s to say the same clerks won’t look at a cat, declare “He looks like a pain in the ass,” and demand some additional, ludicrously-titled fee?

“That comes to an additional $276.13 with your companion animal convenience surcharge. Thank you for flying with us!”

It just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?

Point-Counterpoint: ‘Sheesh, Doesn’t Anyone Teach You About Personal Space?’ Vs ‘I Can’t Sleep Unless I’m Draped Over You’

Buddy the Cat says humans must learn to respect personal space, while Buddy the Cat argues it’s perfectly reasonable to sleep on his human’s face.

Doesn’t Anyone Teach You About Personal Space?

All right, dude, enough! Damn!

You were doing a good job there for a little bit but by the 4th second you should have known it was time to cease scratching my head.

Do humans not teach their offspring about personal space or something? I am a cat, not a stuffed animal!

From now on there will be an automatic three-second cutoff during petting sessions, and I will enforce a two-foot buffer zone so my space is respected. You leave me no choice!

I Can’t Sleep Unless I’m Draped Over You

Are you settled? Comfortable? Ready to go to sleep?

Good.

I’m just gonna climb up here and sort of just unroll myself across your body. It’s the only way I can fall asleep these days.

I think part of it is the gentle rhythm of your breathing, your chest rising and falling, that really relaxes me, although that little current of air when you exhale is annoying. Try to breathe less annoyingly, okay?

If you wake up during the night and I’m wrapped around your head like a hat, do not be alarmed. Your hair is soft and your brain generates heat. This is prime real estate.

Likewise, there may be times when I walk on your face, lick your nose, groom your beard, or jump on you with a back paw landing right where the sun don’t shine. As you fold up like an accordion in shock, and blink in the dark with your 20/800 uncorrected vision, remind yourself that it’s just your best little pal trying to get comfortable.

Mi casa es su casa, eh? I’m your feline friend! Your best bud! Now if you don’t mind, stop tossing and turning so I can get my beauty sleep. Thank you for your anticipated cooperation.

Of Cats And Books

A look at the strange and wonderful world of rare books where, of course, you’ll also find cats.

I’ve always liked the idea of antiquarian bookshops.

I am almost completely ignorant on the subject, mostly because chasing after extremely rare print volumes is the domain of people with a lot of expendable income. The most valuable books in my possession are an original 1939 first edition print of Will Durant’s The Life of Greece, and two novels signed by their authors. Their value is sentimental, not monetary.

But I like the general romanticized image of the antiquarian bookseller: an older man or woman in tweed ensconced in a cozy shop in Manhattan, with every shelf filled with dusty volumes and every surface covered by globes, astrolabes and other curiosities. There’s one of those tight winding staircases with wrought iron railings leading to a loft for access to the highest shelves, the music is from a vinyl collection of light jazz, and it’s always raining outside.

A doted-on shop cat dozes on a red leather armchair, tail twitching from some nightmare in which it’s slightly less adorable than it thinks it is.

Collectors in damp trenchcoats drop in, asking after 17th-century occult tomes, grimoires, and Voynich-esque manuscripts with engravings of impossible creatures, trees with visual organs and arcane rituals. Bibliophiles ask after leatherbound collections of classics like Don Quixote, and the occasionally curious passerby peeks in, surprised that such shops still exist in the age of the internet.

It turns out that’s not too far from the truth, especially the bits about the internet and, of course, the cats.

Johnny Depp is constantly smoking and drinking red wine while handling priceless old books in 1999’s The Ninth Gate. Notice the winding staircase in the rare book shop in the top screenshot.

The Booksellers is a documentary that screened in festivals in late 2019 before heading straight to video when the pandemic brought the world to a screeching halt.

It’s an inside look at the annual New York Book Fair and the small world of antiquarian and rare booksellers in New York, a shrinking constellation of people mostly descended from, or formerly apprenticed to, the booksellers of old before Barnes and Noble and Jeff Bezos laid waste to that sector of retail.

Before network TV, cable TV, dial-up internet, broadband, Kindles, iPads and smartphones turned us into a media-gorging — yet paradoxically less literate — society, New York was home to more than 500 bookshops, including generalists and specialists who catered to people with particular and peculiar interests. Now it’s home to fewer than 80, according to the documentary.

When the booksellers were asked about the way the internet has impacted their trade, their weary sighs reminded me of my older colleagues from my brief time experiencing the end of the “good old days” of newspapering, before the internet destroyed or compromised every publishing income stream and delivered us to this moment. This dystopian time when entire swaths of the country have become news deserts, Elon Musk in all his wisdom asserts that Twitter accounts run by anonymous trolls in Belarus are just as reliable — even more trustworthy, in fact — than those liars in legacy media, and corporate raiders are stripping the last handful of newspapers down to assets they can auction off.

A rare book shop in Paris. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Not all of it’s bad. One rare book dealer laments the fact that “the thrill of the hunt” is gone, meaning it no longer takes years to track down some obscure volume because you can hop online and find it in a few clicks. I get that, but nostalgia for that sort of thing is the ultimate in looking back through rose-colored glasses. Plenty of us could wax nostalgic about the days when we’d hear a song on the radio and have to hum the damn thing to record store clerks, but we’re forgetting about the considerable frustration involved. Given the choice between “fun” ignorance and access to information, I’ll always choose the latter.

As for the cats, it’s not a surprise when many of the book dealers interviewed for the film identify themselves as cat lovers or idly scratch their feline friends while showing off their vast personal collections. Antiquarian bookshops tend to be warm, quiet, gently-lit spaces, perfect napping spots for cats who guard old books from rodents.

If you’re interested in watching The Booksellers, you can find it on Amazon Prime video, or better yet, just click below:

Header image credit: A. Savin/Wikimedia Commons

Palmerston, UK Feline Diplomat And Rival To Larry The Cat, Dies In Bermuda

Named after a powerful prime minister, Palmerston was a hungry stray who was found on the streets of London and quickly made his mark when he was appointed mouser to the UK’s Foreign Office.

Some sad news today: Palmerston, the UK Foreign Office’s strong-willed mouser and foil to Larry the Cat, has passed away.

Palmerston was scooped up in 2016 “as a hungry, underweight stray wandering the streets of London, with no owner traced and no microchip,” London’s Battersea Cats and Dogs noted in a post.

The Foreign Office staff were looking for a new mouser to keep rodents at bay in Whitehall when Battersea recommended the cute tuxedo, and recognizing greatness, the staff brought the little guy on immediately and named him after Henry John Temple, better known as Lord Palmerston, who served as prime minister in the 1850s during the height of the British Empire.

Palmerston the cat, just two years old at the time, took to his new job with enthusiasm — perhaps too much so. The territorial tuxedo quickly developed a reputation for turf battles with his rival mouser, No. 10 Downing St.’s Larry the Cat.

Their skirmishes, which often occurred within the full view of reporters and photographers covering UK government, soon became the stuff of legend, producing several iconic images of the two felines in battle in their eternal struggle for status as top cat in the UK government.

The fearless feline’s hijinx included invading Larry’s inner sanctum in 2016 when he snuck through an open door at No. 10, and while Larry was known for visiting his “lady friend,” Maisie, Palmerston struck up a relationship with Freya, another mouser with a post on Downing Street.

When society’s gears grinded to a halt with the 2020 lockdowns in response to the COVID pandemic, Palmerston “retired” to the countryside with his loyal human, former Royal Navy officer Andrew Murdoch.

Little Lord P enjoyed the quiet life for several years before thrilling fans a year ago with his announcement that he was returning to public life as “feline relations consultant” to Murdoch in his new post as governor of Bermuda.

Admirers followed Palmerston’s antics in the tropical locale via updates on social media. He was living the high life, free of Larry’s evil machinations.

Palmerston patrolling Downing Street.

Palmerston died on Feb. 12, Murdoch wrote in a post on the famous feline’s X account.

“‘Palmy’ was a special member of the Government House team in Bermuda, and a much loved family member,” the post reads. “He was a wonderful companion, with a gentle nature, and will be sorely missed.”

A reply from Larry’s account indicated the former rivals had called a truce: “Farewell old friend,” Larry’s servants wrote on his behalf.

Palmerston, left, and Larry, right, during one of their epic battles while Palmerston was still top cat at Whitehall.
We had a lot of fun with the Palmerston-Larry rivalry here on PITB, admiring both mousers.

While this is sad news, Palmerston will not be forgotten, and we’re confident he’ll take to his new post across the rainbow bridge with the same zeal he applied to his work on behalf of the people of the UK. RIP, little guy.

Hat tip to our friend Platypus Man, who notified us of today’s sad news. If you enjoy photos of far-flung locales, check out his blog, which features posts about his many travels around the world. Thanks, P!