alas, the staff is smaller

Dear Museum patrons and friends,

Today, our lovely Sally Cat - you may see her in the profile photo, lounging on the monitor - had to be put to sleep due to a cancerous tumor. I've just gotten home. Normally she would be jumping on my lap and helping me type about now, but no more.

We made sure she had one last terrific day: all the food she wanted, cuddles on the couch with our favorite movie, and a long time rolling about in the back yard, as you may see here:

I tried very hard to let her go the right way. My heartfelt thanks to Chambers Creek Veterinary for their loving and expert care.

oysters for the cat

Yes, delicious oysters. Back when Samuel Johnson's cat Hodge was alive, oysters were so plentiful that poor folks ate them regularly; think of that. And in an age where cats were fair game for any mean sport, Johnson loved his cat so much that he himself went to buy Hodge's oysters, saying his servant Francis might feel humiliated by the task. Though Johnson had other cats, Hodge was the one closest to his heart.

In 1778, Johnson's friend Percival Stockdale wrote An Elegy on the Death of Dr Johnson's Favourite Cat, which manages to be heartfelt and tongue in cheek at the same time, and is also the only clue we ever got as to Hodge's color - he was black. Here's a snippet:

And shall not Hodge's memory claim
Of innocence the candid fame;
Shall not his worth a poem fill,
Who never thought, nor uttered ill;
Who by his manner when caressed
Warmly his gratitude expressed;
And never failed his thanks to purr
Whene'er he stroaked his sable furr?

(See poem as a whole in this very cool blog post.)

In 1997 Hodge got his own statue in front of the house he and Johnson had shared. Copyright forbids me to paste it here, but I'll send you to this great photo. And moggies.co.uk has a fine page on Hodge.

amy lowell on a dog's love, 1914

Outside the long window,
With his head on the stone sill,
The dog is lying,
Gazing at his Beloved.
His eyes are wet and urgent,
And his body is taut and shaking.
It is cold on the terrace;
A pale wind licks along the stone slabs,
But the dog gazes through the glass
And is content.

The Beloved is writing a letter.
Occasionally she speaks to the dog,
But she is thinking of her writing.
Does she, too, give her devotion to one
Not worthy ?

-- "Fool's Money Bags," from Sword Blades and Poppy Seed (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1914). And if you thought that was sad, mercy, don't read the poem about the dancing bear.

o sole meow! pets at the opera

My alert crack local reporter Doug (hey thanks Doug!) sent me a clipping from the Portland Oregonian which I cannot wait to share with you all. As many of you stateside Museum friends head back to work this AM (I know, me too), think with gentle envy of the folks behind the scenes at the Portland Opera.

13 years ago, a little cat down on her luck hooked up with one of the Opera's seamstresses. Christened "Nerissa," she began coming along to work and, you know, helping. And as it turns out, her presence made such a positive impact on the office's mood that management decided other pets should come along and help, too. When you think of how many furry friends over the centuries have aided in the creation of art of all kinds, it makes perfect sense.

The original story at the Oregonian site here, and a video in which you may see the lovely Nerissa here.

name that cat! holiday weekend edition

Porkchop Porkchop Malloy.
Taterhead and Poop Dragon.
The Richard J. Daley Memorial Cat.

Just a few of the most excellent creative names from a MetaFilter thread of November 2008 concerning a cat in need of labeling.

Chairman Meow.
Malajust.
Spatula.

You don't believe me? Check out the thread: This Is My Dog, Reginald McPimplewagon.

look, a puppy!

This is an English Setter puppy owned by one of my husband's friends. This was taken in April, so this is probably a big boy or girl by now, scampering about and eating puppy chow. If you'd like to learn more about the English Setter breed, try this page - or, you could do what I'm doing as I look forward to a three day weekend, and just sit here and say AwwwwWWWww.

kingsford, and other pig fascination

By now I'm sure most everybody has seen the delightful video of Kingsford, an Australian feral piglet of tiny size and big personality who seems to spend his time napping, beach scampering, and generally being clever and dainty. What? You haven't? Go here and prepare to crave a pet piglet.

My goal this morning was to bring you a bit more on Kingsford's breed of pig. While I didn't find that, I did find what I'm sure is the greatest website ever on rare-breed pigs: Professor Bamfield's Rare-Breed Pigs, a treasury of pig knowledge served up with respect and humor. Did you know there were Three Powerful Swineherds of Britain? That Portuguese pigs don't say "oink" but "roncar"? That in New Guinea, someone who doesn't eat pork is considered a heathen? And that St. Anthony the Great is the patron saint of swineherds?

If you visit the excellent site, you will learn all that and more. Chrum chrum (oink oink in Polish).

new and beautiful: a coin to a cat

Chris Hagebak, copyright, 2007.

I happened to be surfing DeviantART Saturday as I often like to do when I stopped short at this work. The simplicity of this image, the rich texture of the background, and the perfection of the cat's form appealed to me. And the title? A Coin to a Cat? Sounded familiar.

It WAS. According to Chris Hagebak, the artist, "The traditional Japanese saying "A coin to a cat" is similar to the English 'Pearls before swine' - it means basically that one shouldn't waste their gifts on those who don't appreciate them. It doesn't have any particular significance here - I just like to add old Japanese sayings to my Asian work." That's right, I'd listed that in an earlier post on cat proverbs. That richly mottled background is stained with coffee, and marks part of a short series portraying Asian-themed cats and mice - check out his sumi-e Kanji Mice.

Chris' profile on DeviantART is called RamonaQ, and here's his website.

joni's cat runs away. music happens.

While writing songs for her 1998 album Taming the Tiger, Joni Mitchell had to discipline her cat Nietzsche for being very naughty. She put him outside for the night, which for her was unheard of - and neither was Nietzsche, for 18 days.

She painted his portrait for a lost-cat notice to give all her neighbors. She called his name, she listened for his steps. And in the silence of her missing cat she wrote the song "Man from Mars."

The cat came back, and in an interview of 2000 Mitchell says (among other tales of her four cats),

When I played the song for him, he stood on his hind legs and danced, so he
recognized it somehow. What had happened is that I was outside at night,
calling, trying to hear his voice, and in so doing I heard far into the distance
in my neighborhood. I'd never listened to my neighborhood as closely as I did
when he was gone.

You can hear a snippet of "Man from Mars" from the Amazon.com sampler here. There's another telling of the story at Anecdotage.com.

a big dog smile from 1850

Identified as "Children of Lt. Montgomery C. Meigs, in donkey cart with dog, probably Mary Montgomery, Charles, Montgomery, and John Rodgers." Photographer unknown, but taken 1850 or 1851.
Credit: Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-USZC4-3599 DLC. With great thanks.

See the smile on that dog? No? Look here:

the frolicsome kitten, 1824

Dear kitten, do lie still, I say,
for much I want you to be quiet,
Instead of scampering away,
And always making such a riot.

There, only see, you've torn my frock,
And poor mamma must put a patch in;
I'll give you a right earnest knock,
To cure you of this trick of scratching.

Nay, do not scold your little cat,
She does not know what 'tis you're saying:
And ev'ry time you give a pat,
She thinks you mean it all for playing.

But if your pussy understood
The lesson that you meant to teach her,
And did not choose to be so good,
She'd be, indeed, a naughty creature.

-- from Rhymes for the Nursery, by the authors of Original Poems. 16th ed. London: Printed for Harvey and Darton, Gracechurch-street, 1824.

the dudley experience

His name was Dudley. He was long and low and coal black, and he ate things. Like the pompom off my cute jacket. He was taken in by Carolyn and Mike when Carolyn's dad passed away, and was a secure source of comic relief and aggravation ever after. Then he shuffled off to mutt heaven. End of the story? Oh no. You don't know Dudley.

And so I share with you this essay by my friend, writer Carolyn Rose, about the dog who could manifest chaos beyond the grave.

* * *

Anyone who spent any amount of time with Dudley knew he wasn’t an easy dog to have around. He wanted things his way—RIGHT NOW.

Yesterday I packed up his ashes to mail to NY so my brother can scatter him on the mountain with Dad.

On a previous trip to the P.O. I’d been advised to pack the ashes in a small flat box and then put that in a priority mailing envelope. Seemed simple enough, right?

But, aware of what I call “the Dudley factor,” I showed up with my box, unsealed in case someone wanted to check the contents. I brought along a roll of heavy tape, a scissors, and a marking pen. I even brought the certificate of cremation.

I was second in line and there were four clerks on duty. Within seconds I was standing at the counter where the clerk informed me I needed to seal the box with paper tape. Fortunately, they were able to supply that and I took my project to a work table in the lobby.

When I was done, I got back in line behind four people. There were now only two clerks on duty, so many minutes passed before I reached the head of the line and was called to the counter by the same clerk. “Oh no,” she told me. “You’ve done this wrong. The tape must go lengthwise and seal all the edges. You’ll have to do it again.

Back at the work table, I sealed with a vengeance and then returned to the line to stand behind seven people now waiting to be served by just one clerk.

Twelve minutes later, I reached the counter, handed over the roll of paper tape and damp sponge, and explained that the sealed box (looking not unlike something from an Egyptian tomb) should go inside a priority envelope. “You didn’t need to seal this up if it’s going in an envelope,” he said.

Gritting my teeth, I explained what the other clerk had told me. “Well, it can’t hurt to have extra tape,” he said. He’d slipped it into an envelope when another clerk appeared and told him he’d need to seal up all the seams of that envelope with more paper tape and, “It might not be according to regulations even then.”

“Let’s take a chance,” he said, and sealed away, finishing off by stamping all the seams with “Vancouver” and the date.

And so, after half an hour and $21.95 in postal fees, to my great relief I watched the clerk put the envelope in a canvas sack.

Dudley is on his way back to the Catskills. This trip is far different from the five-day Odyssey that brought him to Vancouver, but return journeys are seldom the same. And somewhere Malcolm, my father, is having a good chuckle about a dog that tried the patience of us all and perhaps, at the same time, strengthened our characters just a little.

-- fini
copyright C Rose 2009

a day late: happy mother's day!

snoop holds up a wall

And does it with style, too. Some equal-time graffiti appreciation after Monsieur Chat, this dapper pup is "Cork Graffiti, Snoop by Cuf2." I believe the Cork referred to is (thanks Michael - Corrected from city!) in Ireland.

more andalusian beauties

Yesterday, when I wrote of El Cid's horse Babieca, I found myself quite frustrated at having so little to offer on what was clearly a special and exemplary breed of horse. Today I went looking for more on the Andalusian horse. . .
. . . and hit the jackpot.

I have found the website for the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art, or Fundacion Real Escuela Andaluza del Arte Ecuestre, in Cadiz, Spain. Established in 1973, the School is dedicated to the Spanish horse, its training and the history and art in which the horse played a major part. This all originated with a show called "How the Andalusian Horses Dance," which is still available to see today, but there is so, so much more. You cannot take this site all in even in 2 or 3 sittings. There is a page detailing the Museum of Equestrian Art, and another for the Horse Carriage Museum. You can learn about the gardens. And if you can get to Spain, you can take courses. Perhaps you would like to watch these elegant, slender, tender-eyed horses train, or tour their shining clean tiled stables.

What a trip you'd have! Have a look.

a stupid horse? hardly

Perhaps that really is what happened - young Lord Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar looked over all the horses his godfather had, and chose a white Andalusian that looked spindly. Exasperated, his godfather yelled "Stupid!" Babieca! And in a bit of reverse psychology, the horse and the boy grow up to become the greatest warrior team in Spain's history.

Or maybe the horse was actually named Bavieca and the name got warped. Which isn't anywhere near as good a story.

But the tale of who Rodrigo became with the help of his mighty horse still makes for a great story. He grew up to beome The Cid (c 1040 - 1099), the warrior who conquered Valencia and made it his own fiefdom. Smart and strong, the white horse Babieca was his loyal friend and fellow fighter during these adventures; El Cid's enemies were frightened of him.

The story of El Cid and Babieca - the two are pretty intertwined - can only be flirted with in a little post. Lean more by going to this article on The Cid at Wikipedia, and this essay on Babieca.
Here's a Flickr image of their sculpture in Balboa Park, San Diego. And here is their monument in Burgos, Spain.

wanda gag

Today I must admit I am disappointed. I had planned to bring you all a post on Wanda Gag (1893-1946), the author and illustrator best known for Millions of Cats and The Funny Thing. (I loved that last one when I was a kid - boy, was that foreshadowing.)

As this informative page on Gag tells me, she stood up to a number of struggles early on in life, including being orphaned and responsible for siblings at a young age. Yet she made it to the Art Students' League in New York in 1917. Bearing in mind the strong "folk" woodcuts being explored over in Europe at that time, it doesn't surprise me now that her work had a simple, playful quality. And here is where I get disappointed. I wanted to send you directly to good looks at her work, but such does not seem to be readily available online.

All I could find to show you was part of The ABC Bunny and The Funny Thing (without The Funny Thing!).

sure. a zebra cart. why not.

Walter Rothschild (1868-1937) was a baron and a member of the Rothschild family, and therefore in a position to do pretty much whatever he wanted, as the folks were not hurting for cash flow.


What did he want to do? To create an animal museum. He ended up working in the family bank, but his wealth enabled him to spend his off time establishing and working with the zoological museum he founded at the family estate in Tring, Britain. (You may see their appealing website here, and don't miss the pages on Rothschild, who seems to have been a nice man.)

Walter had a particular fondness for zebras, and betook upon himself their training and an interbreeding program with horses. (You can see a Flickr photo of the museum's taxidermied zebroid foal - a zebra/horse mix - here.) He would drive carriages powered by one to six (so I've seen noted) zebras, preferring the Burchell's zebra (Equus quagga burchellii) for the purpose, as you may see in this copy of an 1895 bulletin. But for a fun photo of that, go here.

I wish we had more people like him kicking around today. He sounds marvelous.

the "staff" takes the air

I thought it would be fun to take this short movie with my phonecam. The quality is imperfect, but you can see Elizabeth, Bac and The Sally ankling around.

Minutes later the skies clouded over and we were treated to a deluge.

a text book for teaching kindness to animals, 1897

San Francisco, 1897 - Emma E. Page, "Organizer and Lecturer for the National Department of Mercy," publishes a school textbook through The Whitaker & Ray Co. Titled "Heart Culture: A Text Book for Teaching Kindness to Animals, Arranged for Use in Public and Private Schools," it offers several chapters on beasts wild and tame, with a list of thought-provoking questions to conclude each lesson.

For example, here's a few that follow Chapter XXVI, on The Dog:
What kind of a friend is the dog?
Will he like you better if you are rich?
Will he desert you if you become very poor?
Are dogs common?
Is it needful then for everybody to understand their rightful care?
Do dogs need to be kept clean, and how?
Do dogs need exercise?
If they are kept in close quarters, how often should they be taken out for a run?
Does confinement tend to make a dog cross?

And a little text from Chapter XXV, on The Cat: ". . . if you are ever tempted to lose a cat or little kitten away from home, think of it. Do not wrong so much devotion, and do not harden your own heart by so cruel a deed. It is far better that a cat should be killed humanely than that it should be driven out to pine and starve, a homeless tramp. When we have reached the highest civilization, no family will go off for a summer vacation and leave a cat unprovided for. Such a thing is shamefully cruel."

How about this shining treat from the chapter on The Hog?

The young of many wild animals are unattractive, not to say ugly. Many birds that are remarkable for grace and beauty have clumsy, naked baby birds that can be pretty only in their fond mother's eyes; but the young of our domestic animals are irresistibly winsome and beautiful, as a rule, and the baby pig is no exception. Shapely, active, knowing, affectionate, and clean, they captivate any unprejudiced observer.
Compte says, "The animals about us become partakers of our humanity." Let us look to it that we do not make them partakers of our degradation. "The noble and unselfish mind makes better and happier every living life it touches."

This is a most lovable book and I wish such things were taught in schools today. Why not have a look at it through Google Books?