Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts

Monday, October 27, 2008

Mutual Aid Down Under


Leo the dog made world news yesterday for saving a litter of kittens in a house fire in Melbourne. People are alsways surprised by altruism in nature and especially interspecies solidarity. Proving again Kropotkin's theory of Mutual Aid.
And in this case a male dog refused to abandon helpless young kittens, showing that nuturing is not simply a matter of biological destiny,mothering, males too nuture the young.

Compassion is a necessary outcome of social life. But compassion also means
a considerable advance in general intelligence and sensibility. It is the first
step towards the development of higher moral sentiments. It is, in its turn, a
powerful factor of further evolution.
Chapter 2 Mutual Aid Among Animals
Mutual Aid: A Factor of
Evolution

Peter Kropotkin 1902


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Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Coren Is An Idiot

The evidence is in. In black and white. Michael Coren is an idiot.

And why he has a
TV and Radio Talk Show let alone a column in the Sun newspapers shows the shallow depths of the social conservative right wing will dredge to find someone, anyone, who will say anything to cause a controversy.

His opinion on matters is usually outrageous, but the ultimate off the wall comment is his latest column. All 'opinion' and reaction, and being a reactionary of course he will excuse himself, with no factual basis to back up his assertions.

Though you will find his opinion of animals, animal rights and the glorious animal husbandry of farmers shared by members of the Federal Conservative Government as well as rural MLA's and right wingers in the West.

I will excerpt the stupidest and most moronic of his statements. They are not suitable for young children, people with weak hearts, or folks with any heart.

They are the ramblings of mental case who would not matter if he did not have access to the media because they are desperate for right wing commentators to offset the supposed dominance of liberal left news bias.

OK, the evidence is in.

People who are obsessed with the welfare of animals and become hysterical when they hear about a dog or cat being abused are mentally ill.

No need here for compromise or silliness. Animal rights types are mentally ill.

Good God, get a grip! People matter more than animals.

Even bad people matter more than animals.

No relativism please, no soppy arguments about cute puppies compared to mass murderers.

The human spirit and soul is unique and deserves respect, dignity and reverence.

FOR US TO USE

Animals, on the other hand, are there to be used. Not abused, but used. So we can eat them, wear their skins, experiment on them if we can thus improve the human condition.

A million kittens do not one human life make. So if by testing medication on a million kittens we can find a cure for cancer, we should have not a second's pause.

Animals have no rights, but we have responsibilities. To treat them properly.

Farmers do this best because they treat them precisely as animals. Keep them fed and warm, show them affection and care, make them better when sick, but kill them if need be.

But not little Rover or cuddly Whiskers. Because they are dumb they must be special and because they give us pleasure they must be kind. Nonsense. Animals can be cruel, are invariably selfish and exist for us and not us for them.


And right wing columnists who claim to speak for the unborn can be cruel, dumb but must be given special privileges because they speak for those who have yet to exist. And like their fantasy worlds of the before life and after life, they condemn those who live in the here and now to their medieval ideal of hierarchy, man above animals, the King above human rights, and God above Man.

I would be remiss if I did not correct Coren's misleading allegations, assertions, and distortions

Not that he reads my blog, but rather because a letter to the editor while short and pithy does little to refute his over the top column.

First what got Coren's goat was the incident in Toronto this past week. Or more correctly not the incident itself but the reactions to it.

An idiot left his dog in his car with the windows rolled up on a very hot day. The car became a hotbox and the dog's brain was boiling. A Humane Society officer rescued the dog and in the process was confronted by the dogs owner, who interfered in the rescue.

The Humane Officer handcuffed him to his car and took the dog to the emergency vet clinic. The idiot who was broiling his dogs brain seems to have attracted some attention to his blight, and got beat up. As a result the Humane Society officer was suspended from his job. A protest in support of him ensued and Coren considers this an indication animal advocates mental illness.

The real sufferers of mental illness are those who would leave animals in a hot car with the windows closed. And contrary to Coren's relativist assertion that animals are less relevant than humans, these same brain dead types are also the folks who leave children in their cars.

Animal abusers often become human abusers, in fact they often become serial killers, as forensic psychologists will tell you.

And clearly this is the case in Edmonton currently.

Edmonton task force seeking serial cat-killer

Of course using Coren's illogic the police are wasting their time, since;" A million kittens do not one human life make."

Coren's illogic is frighteningly similar to the Nazi's belief that untermenschen were not humans. Once you have determined that there is a difference between humans and the 'other'; animals or humans, you are on that slippery slope to mass species genocide.

Animals have sentience, intelligence through learning, calculative thought processes, communication abilities, etc. But for Coren this matters not they are just dumb animals. It has recently been documented that dogs have the ability to remember hundreds of words, and that in human terms they have the intelligence of a three year old.

Elephants, dolphins, monkeys and apes all cogitate, that is have the capacity to learn, and now we are finding they use tools. Humans domesticated animals in a symbiotic relationship, horses, oxen, dogs, cats, etc. Not by force but through mutual aid to meet each others needs.

It was with development of capitalist agriculture that animals were seen as beasts of burden, not unlike the indentured servant, the serf and slave, those who were disposed of their land due to the English encroachment acts.

When Coren praises farmers as having a sympathetic understanding of the animals in their care, one must be forgiven for LOL. Farmers, ranchers and the like view their animals as property just as their fore bearers did. One can see the sympathetic treatment of animals at the rodeo, where horses who 'would be sold for horse meat" are sacrificed in the horror show that is chuckwagon races.

Coren's over the top rant is not much different from the arguments put forward by Reform/Alliance/Conservative MP Myron Thompson who has opposed strengthening Canada's woefully inadeuate animal protection laws, in order to protect rodeos. The laws concerning animal cruelty date back to 1892.

Since he claims to be a convert to Catholicism I would remind Coren of the venerable Saint Francis of Assisi who saw all creatures as part of Gods Creation, and not dumb animals to be processed, mutilated, tortured, abused, etc. Of course Saint Francis is not Coren's kind of Catholic, since he also was a pacifist as well as animal rights activist.

And speaking of St. Francis of Assisi, and dumb animals, this coyote proves Coren wrong.


Chicago City Animal Care and Control workers unsuccessfully tried Monday afternoon to catch a coyote that has been running wild in the Lincoln Park neighborhood for several days.

For two hours, three workers in three trucks couldn't grab the coyote that ran near children, dog walkers and eventually Cardinal Francis George's residence in the nearby Gold Coast neighborhood. At one point, the animal rested near a statue of St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals and the environment.

Workers finally gave up their hunt when the coyote slipped away again into a backyard area of George's home.


Dumb animal indeed. Gave dem workers da slip. And knowing Chicago is a Sanctuary City, this illegal alien sought sanctuary from Saint Francis and on Catholic Church property. Indeed Chicago has the largest urban coyote population in North America. That is one Wiley E. Coyote.


SEE:

Animal Crimes

Katrina: It's a Dog-Gone Crime

Tiger Tiger Burning Bright

We Love Animals


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Wednesday, August 01, 2007

I Thought I Saw A Putty Cat


Move over Dr. Kervorkian make room for Oscar the Cat. A truly American creature ala Edgar Allen Poe.
Of course being raised amongst the demented and dying, how Poe-tic, a cat would 'sense' death it's a component of its sentience. Making it not such a strange animal.

The July 26 edition of the New England Journal of Medicineultra-respectable bastion of medical research—has an article about a cat, Oscar, who can (it says) tell when patients on a ward for severely demented individuals are about to die.

Oscar barely tolerates anyone on the ward who's not hours away from death, says the article. Even if they're barely conscious, brains barely registering the world anymore. But if someone's about to go?

Oscar arrives at Room 313. The door is open, and he proceeds inside. Mrs. K. is resting peacefully in her bed, her breathing steady but shallow. She is surrounded by photographs of her grandchildren and one from her wedding day. Despite these keepsakes, she is alone. Oscar jumps onto her bed and again sniffs the air. He pauses to consider the situation, and then turns around twice before curling up beside Mrs. K.

One hour passes. Oscar waits. A nurse walks into the room to check on her patient. She pauses to note Oscar's presence. Concerned, she hurriedly leaves the room and returns to her desk. She grabs Mrs. K.'s chart off the medical-records rack and begins to make phone calls.

Within a half hour the family starts to arrive. Chairs are brought into the room, where the relatives begin their vigil. The priest is called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling Mrs. K. A young grandson asks his mother, "What is the cat doing here?" The mother, fighting back tears, tells him, "He is here to help Grandma get to heaven." Thirty minutes later, Mrs. K. takes her last earthly breath. With this, Oscar sits up, looks around, then departs the room so quietly that the grieving family barely notices.


- Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours. His accuracy, observed in 25 cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live.

"Many family members take some solace from it. They appreciate the companionship that the cat provides for their dying loved one," said Dosa, a geriatrician and assistant professor of medicine at Brown University.

After about six months, the staff noticed Oscar would make his own rounds, just like the doctors and nurses. He‘d sniff and observe patients, then sit beside people who would wind up dying in a few hours.

Oscar is better at predicting death than the people who work there, said Dr. Joan Teno of Brown University, who treats patients at the nursing home and is an expert on care for the terminally ill

Oscar wouldn‘t stay inside the room though, so Teno thought his streak was broken. Instead, it turned out the doctor‘s prediction was roughly 10 hours too early. Sure enough, during the patient‘s final two hours, nurses told Teno that Oscar joined the woman at her bedside.

No one‘s certain if Oscar‘s behavior is scientifically significant or points to a cause. Teno wonders if the cat notices telltale scents or reads something into the behavior of the nurses who raised him.

The Black Cat

1841

by Edgar Allan Poe
(1809-1849)

I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We had birds, gold fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat. This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon this point --and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.

Pluto --this was the cat's name --was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.

Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character --through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance --had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my At length, I even offered her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only neglected, but ill-used them. For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way. But my disease grew upon me --for what disease is like Alcohol! --and at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish --even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.

One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fiber of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.

When reason returned with the morning --when I had slept off the fumes of the night's debauch --I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed.

In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had so much of my old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart --one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself --to offer violence to its own nature --to do wrong for the wrong's sake only --that urged me to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; --hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; --hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offense; --hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin --a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it --if such a thing were possible --even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.

Of course I would suggest you read the rest of the story as the protagonist gets his just comeuppance as I suggested here; Animal Crimes.


SEE:

Cat Carol

Chinese Fat Cat

PETA Kills Cats & Dogs


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Wednesday, May 30, 2007

A Kat Blog


Those cheeky Conservatives have launched an attack blog against Stephane Dion apparently written by his dog Kyoto.

The polite thing to do would be to respond in kind with a Kat blog about Stephen Harper.

His cat's name is Cheddar, the blog could be called Whine and Cheese.

And since Steve is a Star Trek fan maybe the blog could feature him as a Klingon.

The country's most powerful cat lover, Prime Minister Stephen Harper, is using his official website to urge Canadians to foster pets that have been abandoned or rescued.

The web page — which is up during the Humane Society's Adopt-A-Cat month — shows a photo of a smiling Harper in a wood-panelled room at 24 Sussex Drive with two tiny kittens perched by his side.

Not shy about revealing his soft spot towards cats, Harper said he recently adopted a kitten -- an orange tabby named "Cheddar."

Since moving into 24 Sussex, Laureen Harper has been fostering stray cats through the SPCA.

"I lost my favourite cat Cabot about three years ago, who passed away in an unfortunate accident just outside of Stornaway. So I finally got over that and adopted a young kitten," said the prime minister.

"I'm not sure he knows his name yet but he seems to like everyone. He's the happiest cat I've ever seen, he likes everything and everybody."

In December, the Liberal Party elected a new leader, Stéphane Dion of Quebec. He trails Harper in polls, but not by much. Dion is a supporter of the Kyoto Protocol (which Canada has ratified) and seems to mention global warming with each breath. He even has a dog named Kyoto. This puts Harper, a cat lover and not a Kyoto supporter, in a bind.



See:

Dion Harper


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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Heroic Tails


Humans tend to be species chauvinists when it comes to recognizing animal sentience, until this happens that a family pet rescues someone.

Which is not unusual for companion animals; "People don't give their animals enough credit for being smart."

When it is unusual is when it occurs with wild animals. But again it goes to prove that domestication is less important than interspecies solidarity; mutual aid which is the basis of natural society.


Pet's the cat's meow after hall of fame induction

A year-old cat was hailed as a hero yesterday and inducted into the Purina Animal Hall of Fame for waking a Morinville boy before he slipped into diabetic shock.

"I think that's awesome," said Morinville Coun. Pat Krauskopf. "It's not very often you hear about animals coming through like that."

March 27, 2006, Alex Rose was asleep in his Morinville home, 47 km north of Edmonton, when Mel-O, climbed a five-foot ladder and repeatedly pounced on the boy.

Mel-O was the only cat awarded yesterday with a medal of bravery, while three dogs received the honour.

Adrift, alone, but for Echo

Floating unconscious in the frigid waters of Lake Huron, her body temperature in the 20s, blood sugar dangerously low, Tish Smith was close to being claimed by the great lake. But Echo wouldn't allow it.

After their canoe was capsized by a two-metre wave during a freak summer storm that swept over the massive lake last July, the 4-year-old German shepherd-collie mix refused to let her owner die.


Hero dog showered with love

Jango the golden retriever has been hailed a hero dog.

The Trail dog roused his master from a deep sleep by barking to alert him that his house was on fire.

Owner Darrell Unger woke to Jango's persistent barking to find his house filling with smoke.

Five-year-old Koby Unger of Trail looks on as his family's dog, Jango, basks in the attention after his induction yesterday into the Purina Hall of Fame in Toronto.

Five-year-old Koby Unger of Trail looks on as his family's dog, Jango, basks in the attention after his induction yesterday into the Purina Hall of Fame in Toronto.

In the past 39 years, the hall of fame has honoured 133 animals, including 109 dogs, 23 cats and a horse.


SEE:

Damn Cat

Dogs Are Not Wolves

Katrina: It's a Dog-Gone Crime

Elephants Cogitate



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