Decode Your Cat’s Behavior

via weheartit.com

Why do cats cry early in the morning (or all the time), roll like dogs on their backs, or ignore their litter boxes? Take a look at a few funny and frustrating cat antics and learn more about your cat’s personality.

Why do cats act like alarm clocks?
Crying in the morning can be traced to two things, the season, and well, you. Cat’s circadian rhythms adjust just as ours do. When summer approaches and the birds are up earlier, so is your cat, wanting to do exactly what predatory creatures are made to do: hunt. Not all pet owners will be okay with releasing their little lion into the great outdoors, so if your indoor cat is inappropriately waking you for food, you need to take action. Feeding your cat when he cries reinforces the crying, while waiting for the crying to end, or not instantly responding to the behavior with food, teaches your cat there will be no reward for early-morning wake-ups. Figure out when breakfast will be and stick to your schedule.

Why do cats roll on the floor?
Does the strange drop-and-roll move your cat performs puzzle you? Cat owners see this rolling all the time but many don’t know why it happens or what it means. About.com suggests looking to the time and location of the rolling for clues, adding that it’s a definite look-at-me maneuver designed to grab your attention. Does it happen when you’re doing computer work? As you lace up your sneakers before leaving the house? No matter where or when it happens, if your response to your rolling kitty is affectionate cooing or a tap on the head, know that you’re providing exactly what he wants: attention. While dogs may roll for a belly rub, your cat’s reasons for rolling are, well, cat-like, meaning on his terms (read: rubbing your cat’s belly could leave you with a scratch or two!).

A Prayer for the Animals

“Before you go, I wanted to tell you what happened last night,” she said. We had been together, but in separate vehicles, and it surprised me to hear her short trip home, no more than a few minutes further than mine, could have ended up eventful.

“We were driving home, and as we were approaching the high school, just before the church, I saw what looked like a huge piece of cardboard whip across the road. It was a deer, it had been struck by a car.”

“That’s how fast it spun,” she continued as I stood there, hand over mouth, “that it looked like it was flying through the air. Johnathan saw.”

“Oh no,” I said. He’s a sensitive kid, and like all children, you feel a natural urge to shelter them from seeing animals in pain.

“He told me, ‘We need to go back, mom, and see if he’s okay’,” she continued. “I knew it would be bad, but I turned the car around. The deer was clearly dead.”

“Oh how sad,” I said. It surprised me she didn’t find a struggling creature, bloody, frozen and shocked. I have never (thank God) hit a deer or witnessed one meet its demise, so I don’t know what that’s like. I never want to.

“They must have been going very fast to have killed him so suddenly,” I added. It’s a village road, one you’re not supposed to speed on, but we all know how those things go.

“Well, as we sat there, across from the church, and I explained to Johnny that the deer was dead, he whispered, ‘We need to say a prayer, Mom.” Her eyes widened in the same way I can imagine they did at that moment, in the car, listening to her son ask to pray for a dead deer.

“So what could I do but begin praying?” She says, breathless now, still surprised at the entire incident.

“I watched him cross himself, in the rear view, and as I began to pray, he repeated after me.”

“Wow,” I said, amazed, and yet also proud and scared for my nephew, this boy whose heart pangs for all living things.

“You know, it goes to show, we really can only thank ourselves for how much he loves animals.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” I said. It was a sad story, but pretty much encompasses so much of our  childhood, growing up, sisters… side-by-side, in the back of a car, parked along so many nameless roads, waiting for our mother help an animal to safety.

I told her just yesterday, I need to write this down, this conversation, for so many reasons. Mainly, to help our own children make sense one day, of where we came from, and how our hearts ended up so big. I hope I did the moment justice.

See also:
The Perils of Pavement: A Lament for the Souls Lost to Summer

Dive Into Shark Week Like It’s Your Job

It is my job to create content based on trends.

image via moonstonedesigns at etsy

voilà!

Jaw-Dropping Ideas for a Summer Shark Party

♬ Listening to: Kiss the Girl (Who doesn’t love The Little Mermaid?!)

Jaws is overrated. :)

The Perils of Pavement: A Lament for the Souls Lost to Summer

It happens all the time, but more so in summer. Animals that we share our environments with, or rather, who allow us their space forlornly, lose their lives on our roads.

Honestly, it’s got to be one of the worst parts of taking a walk outside, or jogging in the suburbs. I try not to look when I’m on foot. I cross the street and fix my eyes straight ahead, to avoid the carnage, to shield my heart from breaking. And yes, we’ve all probably been there, behind the wheel, maybe too late in the night… at fault, or in the wrong place at the wrong time. We say accidents happen, but we are cautious near playgrounds. We slow down near schools. We would brake for a child. Why not practice these precautions for helpless animals?

I was coming home from the grocery store recently when I saw a fawn in the road. My first thought was, Poor baby. And then I thought of his or her mom, and I began to cry. I cried all the way home, mostly because I am empathetic to the fact that, while animals can feel sadness, they can’t make sense of it. That understanding alone can hollow you out if you have enough heart.

There’s something that separates the kind from the careless, and it is reflected in Jack Forbes’ poem, “Something Nice,” (below). I think of it from time to time when I realize this is a trait that’s hard to come by.

We must exercise caution when driving and watch for God’s creatures as we would our own children.

“He prayeth best who loveth best / All things both great and small.”
~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge