kitty kitty count a rhyme

I've spoken before of Iona and Peter Opie, the British editors who made it their life's work to study and write about children's literature. Their books are a godsend of a gift to a thoughtful child. I received one of their poetry anthologies when I was no older than ten, and it helped to whet my appetite for words and thoughts far away in time from me.

Probably their best known book, and a charming one it is, was their collaboration with the illustrator Maurice Sendak: I Saw Esau. Subtitled "The Schoolchild's Pocket Book," it's a compendium of all the rhymes you chanted as a kid skipping rope or dissing a playmate. Plus a whole bunch you had no idea existed.

For example, I never ever heard the counting rhyme:

As Eenty Feenty Halligolun
The cat went out to get some fun.
He got some fun and tore his skin
As Eenty Feenty Halligolin.

The Opies point out that this rhyme bears the faintest traces of pre-Roman, Anglo-Cymric (Welsh that is) numerals. Eenty, feenty == one, two?

Here's a funny one that marches along just for fun.

Oh the gray cat piddled in the white cat's eye,
The white cat said "Cor blimey!"
"I'm sorry, Sir, I piddled in your eye,
I didn't know you was behind me."

And did you ever chant this one?

Quick! quick!
The cat's been sick.
Where? where?
Under the chair.
Hasten! Hasten!
Fetch the basin.
Alack! alack!
It is too late,
The carpet's in
An awful state.
No! no!
It's all in vain,
For she has licked it
Up again.

Per this last: Children are nothing if not observant!

i can be cheezburger?

I have a pleasant suspicion that there are some people stopping by from the glorious icanhascheezburger.com. Hi, there! Do I have something for you.

What do you say to little plush cats dressed up like cheeseburgers? And fries, milkshakes, bakery treats. . . all the good things you want to pick up and nibble, as if you needed any persuasion to nibble a kitten. (You don't. Admit it. We're all friends here.)

Now imagine these things are made up in that extra-cute, clean, tiny Japanese fashion, and you have Nyan Nyan Nyanko. As Wikipedia defines them, "Nyankos are small kittens that enjoy mimicking various items, generally edible items." And items which provide illustration of how the culture lives and eats. Apparently they ask not to be eaten by anyone who penetrates their cunning disguises.

Gorgeous, adorable, and Japanese language only page of them here. A place to buy some here. Catcheeseburger only $79.99. Want fries with that?

a medieval kennel

Typical of the new sporting breeds was the Hound of St. Hubert, created by monks
at the Abbey of St. Hubert at Mouzon in the Ardennes. . . These dogs had soft,
pendulous ears and somber, gentle countenances accentuated by furrows and loose
folds of skin. Compared to the Levrier and Alaunt, it was not a
particularly swift or muscular breed, but possessed exceptional endurance and
determination,while remaining surprisingly obedient. It had a nose capable
of finding virtually anything -- the canine equivalent of gold. Legend has
it that as early as AD 800 the monastery began sending six of their finest young
dogs to the King of France every year in lieu of tribute, who in turn gave the
pups to close friends and favored associates. Ultimately this dog, and
many other hounds like it, were just as coveted (if not more so) for their
potential as fashionable status symbols as for their hunting talents.

--Thurston, The Lost History of the Canine Race, p. 76.

bucephalus

Alexander the Great had a horse which carried him from battle to battle, conquest to conquest, a partner in the art of war. Yet the legend is that Alexander won the heart of this horse through tenderness and friendship. His name was Bucephalus, a stallion of dark color and high temper, and he has become a figure as mythic as his owner. Pothos.org's page on him will illustrate thusly.

But Alexander had another side kick: his dog Peritas. He's mentioned offhandedly in Plutarch, so:

Alexander's beloved dog, was named Peritas after the Macedonian name for
the month of January. Alexander raised him from a puppy and when he died named a city after him (Plut., Vit. Alex. 61.3).

Michael Feldman over at Britannica.blog asserts that Peritas was a greyhound and met his doom by the crushing feet of King Darius's war elephants at the battle of Gaugamela.

Hi, Candace.

so more on the scottish tip

So I've just found out about the Cu Sith, a legendary hound of the Scottish Highlands. Pronounced coo shee, the name means "fairy dog" and the beast itself is said to be dark green. His appearance foretells death, his eyes are yellow, and his paws are wet. Also described as the hunting dog of the Highland areas. Pretty interesting post on it, with much more detail, here.

och aye. and woof

The Kennel Club recognizes twelve breeds of dog as being Scottish:
Bearded Collie
Cairn Terrier
Dandie Dinmont Terrier
Deerhound
Golden Retriever
Gordon Setter
Rough Collie and Smooth Collie
Scottish Terrier
Shetland Sheepdog
Skye Terrier
West Highland White Terrier

Got that from this page.

I have a secret yen to get a Westie and name him "Mad Jack McMad, winner of the All Scotland Madman Contest," after the character referred to briefly in the "Duel and Duality" episode of Blackadder the Third:
Blackadder: He's mad! He's mad. He's madder than Mad Jack McMad, the winner of this year's Mr Madman competition.

and he probably would have done a fine job

Oh, I know -- you must have heard ths one, but just in case, it's too good not to repeat. The emperor Caligula, among his many other increasing eccentricities and his overall strong scent of goat, was very fond of his horse Incitatus (the name means something like "speedy"). When you think of the many truly nasty things Caligula did, his hijinks with this pet are comic relief. Not that the historians of old thought so. Read the quotes below in a voice of pinched disapproval.

To prevent Incitatus, his favourite horse, from growing restive he always
picketed the neighbour-hood with troops on the day before the races, ordering
them to enforce absolute silence. Incitatus owned a marble stable, an ivory
stall, and a jewelled collar; also a house, furniture, and slaves - to provide
suitable entertainment for guests whom Caligula invited in its name. It is said
that he even planned to award Incitatus a consulship.
Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars: Caligula 55
The Twelve Caesars is extremely diverting reading at any time. I highly recommend it. Tiberius and the "minnows" on
Capri, anyone?

One of the horses, which he named Incitatus, he used to invite to dinner, where
he would offer him golden barley and drink his health in wine from golden
goblets; he swore by the animal's life and fortune and even promised to appoint
him consul, a promise that he would certainly have carried out if he had lived
longer.
Cassius Dio, Roman History: Book 69

the shepherd's dogge

"The Shepherd's Dogge...either at the hearing of his master's voyce, or at the
wagging and whistling in his fist, or at his shrill and hoarse hissing, bringeth
the wandering weathers and straying sheepe into the self same place where his
master's will and wishe is to have them."

This Elizabethan quote opens The Border Collie Museum, an absolutely terrific look at this smart and useful breed. They come in about a dozen colors, did you know? You will when you visit!

foujita's cats

It's only been very recently that I even learned of the existence of Tsuguharu Foujita (Japanese, worked primarily in France, 1886-1968). He was a complex, flamboyant, yet hard-working man known among other things for the particular glossy, full bodied character of his white pigment. A special mix, the recipe was known only to him, and with it he painted women's flesh with a pearly luster that was much admired.

He also loved, and painted, cats.

Foujita's cats have a fluffy soft charm to them that simply begs you to pick them up from the canvas and kiss their hair-fine whiskers. Go here if you don't believe me -- or here, or here.

lolcats, selamat datang!

(Selamat datang = "Welcome" in Malay.)

Do I speak Malay? No, though I lived in Singapore for a year as a kid, which was a fascinating time. Because of the tropic climate, our living room had no front wall to speak of. Instead we had a lockable decorative metal gate, which we could pull a plastic curtain across for privacy.

One time we came home to find a neighborhood cat had come in through the gate, found a chicken on the kitchen counter, dragged it through the house, and tried to yank it back out the grate. Tried, that is. The chicken was wedged tight by the time we got there.

Anyway, everybody likes cats -- and apparently everybody likes lolcats, too. They're taking over the world. Check out lolcats in Malaysian.

mouse justice

In an island in the Rhine River near the town of Bingen stands the "Mouse Tower," a building whose fortunes have been checkered over time. But it's best known, and named for, the events said to have befallen a cruel ruler there in the famine year of 974.

This ruler was Hatto II, the Archbishop of Mainz; Mainz was at the time the area's major city, and so it's no surprise that its Archbishop should rule in that time of mixed spiritual and temporal power. What does surprise is how cruelly Hatto treated the folks given to his care. The legend says he rebuilt the ancient tower and used it to harass and shoot commercial travellers if they gave no bribe money.

Then came a year of poor harvests, when Hatto sold the grain stored in his barns to other areas at an excellent price rather than feed his subjects. When they complained, he seemed to soften, and told them all to go to a certain barn and await food there.

They went, but of course got nothing to eat. Hatto sealed them up and burned them, saying they were only good for eating (and, he implied, wasting) grain like vermin. He went home -- to find his castle overrun with mice.

To the tower he fled, but mice by the thousands followed, swimming across the river, gnawing through the wooden door, racing through the tower and eating Hatto up alive.

Here's a version of the tale. Doesn't your mouse look rather mighty to you all of a sudden?

gives charm and relief in life

In June 1997 The Asahi Shimbun, the leading Japanese newspaper, conducted a face to face survey on the average person's feelings about pets in general. 2,248 people responded, almost perfectly split between men and women. Go here to see the questions asked and how they could -- and did -- answer.

Oh, and today's blog title? It's the most popular response to question 2, "What do you think is a good point of a pet ?" And I can't argue with that winning answer at all.

a dog's epitaph

On the ancient tombstone of a dog, in Greece:

Thou passest on the path, if happily thou dost mark this monument,
Laugh not, I pray thee,
Though it is a dog's grave, tears fell for me,
and the dust was heaped above me by a master's hand,
who likewise engraved these words upon my tomb.

-- from Mary Elizabeth Thurston, The Lost History of the Canine Race: Our 15,000-Year Love Affair with Dogs (Kansas City: Andrews and McMeel, 1996), p. 45.

gen art short pet films

In 2006 PetStyle.com and GenArt teamed up to create a pet-themed short film competition. (They're doing it again this year, but entries were due the 31st of March. If I'd known I'd have told you.) The fifteen finalists run the gamut from the garden-variety tragedy of your cat liking the house across the street better, to the innate comedy of dachshund races: "168 dachshunds race over two days. One wiener will rule them all . . ."

Pet films are sure fire tearjerkers aren't they? Again, pets give us the opportunity to feel the vulnerability we fear before other humans. One unlooked-for result of these terrible pet food recalls is the sudden communication between people who in some cases have lived near each other for years and not exchanged a word -- until it came to the opportunity to warn a neighbor about their pets' wellbeing.

my goodness. junior doesn't look a thing like you

Happy Mother's Day, everyone.

At the risk of sounding like a Pedro Almodovar film (did you see Volver? Why not?) I'd like to take a moment to appreciate those who step in as Mom in circumstances which lead them to nurture creatures of a most different bent than themselves.

So different, in fact, as to be an entirely different species.

The tiger cannot change its stripes. . . but cubs need mommies too.

"squishy"

Remember that scene in Finding Nemo? "I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine and he shall be my squishy." I thought that was hysterical.

Fish are a tough pet to name. As a child I had a goldfish named Arthur; I don't remember what I was thinking, except that he was a gold fish, and I recall I'd just read the Malory tales of Arthur. I certainly didn't put that much thought into his surroundings. One scrap of duckweed and that was that, in his clear bowl, on top of the fridge. Anything more socially intricate in its needs than a fish would have gone nuts. When we moved, I gave him to the next doorneighbor, who placed him in an outdoor pond. There he grew to the size of a small football, she said.

Happily, there are better fishparents out there. Otherwise who in Heaven's name would have compiled these exhaustive lists of female and male pet fish names?

british museum toy

But you can't buy this one to take home, since it dates from 1550-1070 BC.

A wooden cat from Thebes, Egypt, this plaything has bronze teeth and a handy string to make the jaws go snappity snap like your kitty's. No ears though. Time seems to have worn them away.

The Egyptians actually bred cats in great numbers and organized fashion "for use in the cult of the cat goddess Bastet," the museum website tells us. What kind of use? The website does not tell us that. I like to think they flopped about happily, attracting divine blessings.

Go see this ancient toy!

jackpot! sorta

I have been looking and looking for an image archive somewhere of various artists with their pets.

I found one. But it's tiny. Seven images right now.

Courtesy of SIRIS (Smithsonian Institution Research Information System), which has a lovely images catalog, I'd like to point you to the gallery "Artists with their pets".

Look! It's a young Marcel Duchamp with his brothers and their dog!

i'm gonna be a blue collar. . . cat

I'll take those long nights, impossible odds
keeping my eye to the keyhole
if it takes all that to be just what I am
well I'm gonna be a blue collar man
(Styx, Blue Collar Man)

All she wanted was membership in the National Association of Local Government Officers, Glasgow (Scotland) chapter. After all, she'd been doing an excellent job of pest control at the People's Palace Museum there for some time, and you know what a dirty job that is. But NALGO said no. So she became a member of the General, Municipal and Boilermakers Trade Union.

They didn't discriminate against cats.

True story, about a cat named Smudge and her illustrious career in Glasgow's public service during the 80's and 90's. This page tells you a little more about The People's Palace, and about Smudge.

And here (courtesy of this thread) is her obit from The Glasgow Herald and Evening Times, October 25, 2000:

Feline favourite of People's Palace finally runs out of lives
Died at her home, after a long illness, SMUDGE, THE PEOPLE'S PALACE CAT, Glasgow's Kitty of Culture during 1990. When Smudge joined the People's Palace as a lowly rodent operative in 1979, Glasgow City Veterinaries looked in her mouth and pronounced her to be 'a fairly old cat'.

Popular with People's Palace visitors, ceramic replicats were made of her by potter Margery Clinton in 1987. When the limited edition of 50 sold quickly, a mass edition was produced, so that visitors could take one home. Fridge magnets, notebooks, t-shirts, postcards, Christmas cards and mugs quickly followed, and the fundraising success of Smudge was such, that the phrase 'there's a little money in the kitty' was commonly used by museum staff. Smudge became a member of the General, Municipal and Boilermakers Trade Union, after NALGO refused her admission as a blue collar worker.

When she became a supercat, she loaned her paws to many campaigns, including 'Save the Glasgow Vet School' (1989), 'Paws Off Glasgow Green' (1990), and was the first recorded pick-cat, when she appeared at the head of the picket line at Kelvingrove during a strike in 1989. She was proclaimed as Glasgow's Culture City Kitty in 1990. Smudge featured on the jacket of 'The Scottish Cat' book by Hamish Whyte in 1987, was the star of the Scottish Cat Club Championship Show in 1988, and had an angry exchange with Arthur, the Kattomeat Cat, who tried to top-cat her on her home territory in 1990.

She retired from public life in 1991, although she recently undertook some contract work at the Stirling Smith Art Gallery and Museum, where there was field mouse trouble. She also features in the Museum of Scotland's Twentieth Century Gallery (opened 1998) and in the guidebook.

A Scottish cat of two centuries, her warm purr, her rich white fur coat with the distinctive black heart, and her sweet nature will be sadly missed. Her descendents are all over Glasgow and her replicats can be found in five Continents, where they have been taken or sent by cat loving Glasgwegians. Our thanks to the veterinary practice of Una McLean who kept Smudge going; the Welsh firm of thermal heat pads, ditto; and our good neighbours, the Gillett family.

Elspeth King and Michael Donnelly

why people love dogs

An essay by Jon Katz, sent to me by my friend Jill of Magadog Cairn Terriers (see her over in my favorites!).

Why People Love Dogs
It's more complicated than you think. By Jon Katz

My friend and fellow dog lover Edie, an occupational therapist in Massachusetts, has been looking for a mate for nearly 10 years. She finally thought she'd found one in Jeff, a nice guy, generous and funny, who teaches high school. They dated for several months, and just as there was talk about a future, it occurred to Edie that Jeff hadn't really bonded with her yellow Lab, Sophie. In fact, as she thought more about it, she wasn't sure Jeff was a dog guy at all.She confronted him about this at dinner one night, and he confessed, in some anguish, that he didn't love Sophie, didn't love dogs in general, never had.

They broke up the next week. More accurately, she dumped him. "What can I say?" Edie told me, somewhat defensively. "Sophie has been there for me, day in and day out, for years. I can't say the same of men. She's my girl, my baby. Sooner or later, it would have ended."

Having just spent two months on a book tour talking to dog lovers across the country, I can testify that this story isn't unusual. The lesson Edie gleaned, she says, was that she should have asked about Sophie first, not last. In America, we love our dogs. A lot. So much that we rarely wonder why anymore.

This, perhaps, is why God created academics. John Archer, a psychologist at the University of Central Lancashire, has been puzzling for some time over why people love their pets. In evolutionary terms, love for dogs and other pets "poses a problem," he writes. Being attached to animals is not, strictly speaking, necessary for human health and welfare. True, studies show that people with pets live a bit longer and have better blood pressure than benighted non-owners, but in the literal sense, we don't really need all those dogs and cats to survive.

Archer's alternative Darwinian theory: Pets manipulate the same instincts and responses that have evolved to facilitate human relationships, "primarily (but not exclusively) those between parent and child." No wonder Edie ditched Jeff. She was about to marry the evil stepfather, somebody who wasn't crazy about her true child.

Or, to look at it from the opposite direction, Archer suggests, "consider the possibility that pets are, in evolutionary terms, manipulating human responses, that they are the equivalent of social parasites." Social parasites inject themselves into the social systems of other species and thrive there. Dogs are masters at that. They show a range of emotions--love,anxiety, curiosity--and thus trick us into thinking they possess the full range of human feelings. They dance with joy when we come home, put their heads on our knees and stare longingly into our eyes. Ah, we think, at last, the love and loyalty we so richly deserve and so rarely receive. Over thousands of years of living with humans, dogs have become wily and transfixing sidekicks with the particularly appealing characteristic of being unable to speak. We are therefore free to fill in the blanks with what we need to hear. (What the dog may really be telling us, much of the time, is, "Feed me.")

As Archer dryly puts it, "Continuing features of the interaction with the pet prove satisfying for the owner."It's a good deal for the pets, too, since we respond by spending lavishly on organic treats and high-quality health care. Psychologist Brian Hare of Harvard has also studied the human-animal bond and reports that dogs are astonishingly skilled at reading humans' patterns of social behavior, especially behaviors related to food and care. They figure out our moods and what makes us happy, what moves us. Then they act accordingly, and we tell ourselves that they're crazy about us."It appears that dogs have evolved specialized skills for reading human social and communicative behavior," Hare concludes, which is why dogs live so much better than moles.

These are interesting theories. Raccoons and squirrels don't show recognizable human emotions, nor do they trigger our nurturing ("She's my baby") impulses. So, they don't (usually) move into our houses, get their photos taken with Santa, or even get names. Thousands of rescue workers aren't standing by to move them lovingly from one home to another.

If the dog's love is just an evolutionary trick, does that diminish it? I don't think so. Dogs have figured out how to insinuate themselves into human society in ways that benefit us both. We get affection and attention. They get the same, plus food, shelter, and protection. To grasp this exchange doesn't trivialize our love, it explains it.

paw

I sprained my foot in the back yard a couple days ago. My, it is wearying.

I am bagging out on a full post today. Instead, why don't you go to a slide show of awfully cute Brittany puppies? Take a good look at those piercing eyes and then you can feel what it is like to be me at dinnertime.

ermines

We've talked about this before: ermines are the white phase of the weasel/stoat family. Their white fur made for a fine luxuriant trimming of noble robes. The House of Lords in Great Britain still sport "ermine" trimming on their robes, but these days, I am happy to report, it is faux. The ermine was also used as symbolic shorthand for the purity and innocence of the wearer. Though not much found in households now -- in favor of the more docile ferret, a very closely related species -- they served in times past as workers and pets.

You will see this illustrated nicely in The Medieval Ferret, or Ferrets in Art History, a well assembled page with extreme ermine/ferret close-ups of each work!

lapdogs come to ireland

From the Concerning Dogs page of Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland, courtesy of SacredTexts.com, which is a pretty amazing website for sheer organization and content.

In Cormac's Glossary there is an interesting account of how the first
lapdog came into Ireland, for the men of Britain were under strict orders that
no lapdog should be given to the Gael, either of solicitation or of free will,
for gratitude or friendship.

Now it happened that Cairbré Musc went to visit a friend of his in
Britain, who made him right welcome and offered him everything he possessed,
save only his lapdog, for that was forbidden by the law. Yet this beautiful
lapdog was the one only possession that Cairbré coveted, and he laid his plans
cunningly to obtain it.

There was a law at that the in Britain to this effect: "Every criminal
shall be given as a forfeit for his crime to the person he has injured."

Now Cairbré had a wonderful dagger, around the haft of which was an
adornment of silver and gold. It was a precious jewel, and he took fat meat and
rubbed it all over the haft, with much grease. Then he set it before the lapdog,
who began to gnaw at the haft, and continued gnawing all night till the morning,
so that the haft was spoiled and was no longer beautiful. Then on the
morrow, Cairbró made complaint that his beautiful dagger was destroyed, and he
demanded a just recompense.

"That is indeed fair," said his friend, "I shall pay a price for the
trespass."

"I ask no other price," said Cairbré, "than what the law of Britain
allows me, namely, the criminal for his crime."

So the lapdog was given to Cairbré, and it was called ever after
Mug-Eimé, the slave of the haft, which name clung to it because it passed into
servitude as a forfeit for the trespass.

Now when Cairbré brought it back to Erin with him, all the kings of
Ireland began to wrangle and contend for possession of the lapdog, and the
contention at last ended in this wise--it was agreed that the dog should abide
for a certain the in the house of each king. Afterwards the dog littered, and
each of them had a pup of the litter, amid from this stock descends every lapdog
in Ireland from that time till now.

After a long while the lapdog died, and the bare skull being brought to
the blind poet Maer to try his power of divination, he at once exclaimed,
through the prophetic power and vision in him, "O Mug-Eimé! this is indeed the
head of Mug-Eimé, the slave of the haft, that was brought into Ireland and given
over to the fate of a bondsman, and to the punishment of servitude as a
forfeit."

Note: Cormac's Glossary is an encyclopedia of Irish oral tradition by the tenth-century priest-king of Cashel, Cormac mac Cuilennan.

joe

"On this particular Sunday in March, six years ago, I was in the biggest fight of my life."

Joe was a scrappy mongrel who had run out of luck when the editor of zuzu.org found and laboriously rescued him (and I do mean that adjective -- you'll see when you read the story).

Every so often, it's good to hear what an animal can go through without care and responsible love. This is something that happens all too often, and I lose track of it myself among the poems and art. This story has a happy ending. What can I do to make more of those?

Bonus material!! A young zuzu.org writer enthralls us with the tale of

The Cat That Wasn't Right

oh and other good young authors too but, come on, that title. It is fiiiine.

a cat

That's all. Just "A Cat" circa 1904-08 by Gwen John (British, 1876-1939), courtesy of the Tate Online.

Gwen John loved her cats, and the page for this deft watercolor tells a bit about that. Meanwhile, don't you love how perfectly she's shown those little fur-fat bulgy parts a cat gets when it's attentively seated? And those whiskers! Made from nothing. Really: it looks like the pencil marks show you not where the whiskers are, but where they are not.

whoops. must find luck elsewhere.

After writing yesterday's post I was resolved to say "Rabbit rabbit" immediately upon awakening. But no. What I actually said was "HEY HEY HEY!" to the two cats that were beating the whiskers off each other at the foot of the bed.

I must look elsewhere. Somewhere convenient. Like said cats, perhaps.

Here are some ways to change your luck with a handy cat.

• If you see a cat eating grass, quickly make a wish, then turn away. If your wish is to come true, you mustn't see the same cat again that same day.
• If you see a cat looking at a fire with its tail away from the fire, make a wish. Don't ever make a wish on a cat whose tail is toward the fire, or the opposite of your wish may happen.
• If you see a cat washing its face, touch each of your cheeks and then your chin; after that, make a wish.
• If a black cat crosses your path, make a wish. If a black cat crosses your path, say "Black cat, bring me luck." If you meet a black cat, stroke it three times from head to tail and then make a wish. (This is more powerful than just seeing a black cat.)
• If you see a white cat, make a wish after saying: "White cat has fur, Drinks milk from a dish, White cat can purr, And bring me my wish."
• If the cat purrs as you are making your wish, there is a good chance that your wish will come true.
• If a gray cat crosses your path, this is a sign of very good luck; you should strengthen the luck by making a wish for good luck.
• If you see a three-colored cat, make a wish. Repeat it three times.
• The first time you meet any given cat, you should stroke it seven times, repeating your wish with each stroke.

This is simply the "cat" part of a most exhaustive animal luck page!