Cat from Hawaii found in Ohio

[Headline, CNN]

I was sitting on my porch when I saw a cat coming down the street. He was obviously lost. I whistled him over and as I scratched his head, I checked his collar. He was from Hawaii.

I went inside and found some chocolate-covered macadamia nuts and a little leftover poi and brought it out to him. He wolfed it all down. I could tell he was hungry.

I called my sister, who lives in Wailea.

“I’ve found a lost cat,” I said. “His collar says he lives in Kihei.”

“Why, that’s right down the road,” my sister said. “Where are you?”

“Home in Ohio.”

“I’ll be darned. Well, put him on a plane to Kahului and I’ll meet him there and take him home.”

“Thanks, Sis.”

I had a carrier that I bought at Target after a lost dog showed up from Paris and caught me unprepared. I put this little guy in it (his name was Kamehameha) and took him down to our local airstrip. He had to make a connection in Columbus but after that he had a straight shot to the islands.

Dog Calms Crying Baby

Headline in the Huffington Post 11/13/11.

Congratulations to Dora, a hound.

The baby had been crying for a long time (check the Guiness Book of World Records for details). Having broken that record, the family now wished to go for the “Animal calming crying baby” record. Points are awarded for how long the baby has been at it, the age of the baby, the length of time required for the animal to do the trick, and, of course, the animal’s species.

In the running, a chimp (disqualified because it had been lobotomized), several dogs, a litter of kittens, a porcupine (parents arrested for child endangerment), and several animals, also disqualified on the basis of Dr. Kravitz’s reseach, which shows that children falling silent in the face of a roaring lion, a slavering, growling wolf, or a hissing cobra, are not in fact being “calmed.”

Dora is known to have hated the incessant squalling. She could see the secret measures taken by Mom and Dad to keep the infant howling. She did not approve. For one thing, her doggy ears are more sensitive to a baby’s screams than are those of parents whose senses have been dulled by alcohol and heroin. She considered tearing out the thoats of these two addicted child-abusers, but Dora comes from a long line of well-trained hunting hounds. Not for her the easy (and fun) solution.

What were her options? Licking the caterwauling baby into submission? Offering her  nine canine dugs to little Kyle (number of dog nipples varies and is not necessarily an even number)? Bringing the child a snack, such as Gerber’s Sweet Potatoes? Learning how to operate the family entertainment center so as to play the youngster some Raffi? Surreptitious threats (throat-tearing again)?

Dora, who was originally rescued by a monastic pound and trained by its acolytes, was well-versed in the art of canine communication with the Devine. Dog prayer, in other words. As is well-known, all dogs go to heaven; not so well known is that they have an open line to the place. Few use it because few are so intelligent and hand-trained in the Catechism as a monkish (or in this case, nunish) hound.

Dora knelt, on her knees feeling rather like a sheep, and prayed that the little monstrosity would first, clam up, and second, be carted off by Child Protective Services to a decent home. She also asked for a dispensation regarding the parents, whose lives she held in her paws, especially when they had just fixed up and were nodding. God granted the first two wishes but denied the third. It is not deemed Christian that a pet murder its owner, even with cause.

Animal Biopics

My agent in Hollywood tells me that they’re screaming for animal biopics down there. They’ll buy anything you toss into the office.


Lassie – Start with a 21-year-old collie with mange and an animatronic mouth. “When I was a puppy, I played with my littermates and pooped out behind the well in the farmyard.”

Rin Tin Tin – Start with a brigade of German Shepherds, standing in formation wearing Nazi dog uniforms. If the movie is to be light-hearted, give them all Hitler mustaches.

Orca – Start with Orca’s mother. She’s either killed by the giant octopus from that other movie or she’s having sex with Sharktopus.

Cheeta – Go David Lynch. The young Cheeta meets this crazy old chimp who enslaves his mistress monkey and does jungle drugs to the extreme. It’s all like a primate dream, but Cheeta can’t wake up.

Note: No bugs, no sheep, no animated animals, no snakes or worms, no subtitles, no blood or viscera, no “messages,” limit of three generations even for rabbits, no dinosaurs, no birds unless they can perch long enough to hold a reasonable conversation, no religious nuts mammal or otherwise, no alligators, crocodiles, hippos, or rhinoceroses, no shills like that chihuahua, no dark glasses on dogs. No dog poker. Pet cemeteries are fine.

Dog movies

I don’t have a dog. I hold no brief against dogs, mind you, but if I’ve got to watch a dog movie, I prefer that it be one about a guy who has turned into a dog, so that it’s actually more a  guy movie than a dog movie. Beyond The Shaggy Dog (1959) and its remake, I don’t know what my choices are with this, but it’s what I want.

If  it must be a movie about an actual dog, I’ll settle for the following:

– A big, rabid dog like Cujo (1983).

– A dog that’s the spawn of Hell, like Beefy in Little Nicky (2000).

– Goofy or Pluto

– A zombie dog. Blood Creek (2009) has zombie horses. There must be a movie out there with a crowd of human zombies and their dogs – humans and dogs alike having gone to the dogs. A sexy female weredog would also be acceptable.

– A talking dog, as in Beverly Hills Chihuahua (2008).

Best would be a movie in which a cat, not a guy, turns into a dog. The owner whistles. The dog does not react. The owner shouts “Here, Spot! Come!” The dog does not react. The dog holds its tail straight up, weirding out the owner. The dog pads over to the sofa and stretches up to claw the cushions with those big black doggy claws. It keeps its tongue in its mouth.

No, wait. I’d rather go with a movie in which a monkey, not a cat, turns into a dog. The dog shows its teeth in a grin. It chatters. It eats a banana. It abuses itself.

Or if it’s got to be a movie about a real dog, maybe it’s a dog who turns into an octopus. A giant octopus, say, that pulls itself up onto the Golden Gate Bridge, and then along the bridge’s fast lane into the city, where it lifts all eight tentacles at once and pisses on a hydrant.