Drawing Conclusions

In reviewing my birthday greetings to Douglas Adams, I realize an explanation may be in order. I may have been unclear or, at least, I may have made some faulty assumptions about you, Dear Reader:
1. I assumed you already knew the comic and imaginative genius of Douglas Adams (creator of the radio series The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which morphed into a series of novels, plays, comics, and a popular film; also the author of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, which became a TV series).
2.You knew he cared deeply about conservation (hence his fundraising for Save the Rhino and his nonfiction contribution to the cause, Last Chance to See).
3. You know climate change has imperiled polar bears.*

The photo of the polar bear is, in my mind, tragic—and I believe Adams would concur. I didn’t intend any connection between the word laughter and the precarious position of the bear. I hope I didn’t mislead you. I hope I didn’t cause you to laugh at the stranded creature.

Though Adams and his works are immensely quotable, I chose yesterday’s particular quotation because I’ve been awed by ignorance lately—flabbergasted at what people choose to believe about animals, Nature, corporate responsibility, natural resources, poverty, and climate change. I’m waiting for the scales to tip—waiting to be more frequently awed by insightfulness and compassion and intelligence that I may revere and emulate. Of course, it’s occurred to me that I could be waiting several lifetimes for this to happen, so I’ve been researching how best to cultivate understanding—specifically regarding animals—and how I may play my part in the cultivation. This means steeping myself in the mythologies, religions, and cultural practices that threaten understanding.

If you’re already on the front lines of this cause, please tell the rest of us how we may help.

“We are not an endangered species ourselves yet, but this is not for lack of trying.”
―Douglas Adams, in Last Chance to See

* With this on my mind at the library yesterday, I checked out Zac Unger’s Never Look a Polar Bear in the Eye: A Family Field Trip to the Arctic’s Edge in Search of Adventure, Truth, and Mini-Marshmallows. Unger set up residence in Churchill, Manitoba—“The Polar Bear Capital of the World”—to investigate the nature of the bears and the validity of the media reports about their demise. I’ll let you know what he discovers in a future post.

Look Who’s Behind the Wheel!

One of the stories I heard while visiting with my family last week involved car trouble. My sister was travelling in her powder-blue vintage VW Bug (similar to the one pictured) with her trusty terrier when the trouble began. A tow truck was called to get the Bug to a repair shop, but the driver refused to allow a dog in the cab of his truck. What to do?

The solution must have turned a lot of heads as the convoy made its way through town: Manning the wheel of the vintage vehicle (which attracted attention all by itself) was a small, buff-colored terrier—who looked for all the world as if driving a car was no different for him than fetching a ball.

But maybe driving really isn’t all that extraordinary for dogs. Check out this video from New Zealand:

Granted, it’s a crazy gimmick. Yet I hope it gets the message across about the intelligence of shelter dogs. After all, my sister found her accomplished chauffeur when he was but a pup abandoned in a parking lot.

Spread the word: Shelter dogs rock…and drive!


[Pic from Das Blog.]

The (Equine) Reading Life

Here’s a horse after my own heart:

This is Shana, whose guardian is equine coach Nicole Birkholzer. In a post on her Mindful Connections blog, Birkholzer asks whether horses are studious. Take a peek at the other horse pictured and you’ll have no trouble answering the question.

I.Q. Reexamined

“If a rabbit defined intelligence the way man does, then the most intelligent animal would be a rabbit, followed by the animal most willing to obey the commands of a rabbit.”
—Robert Brault

[Art by Bunny Griffeth.]

A Friday the 13th Tale: Crossing the Line

This tiny tale has no spook factor except, perhaps, for its starring black feline. (And truth be told, when you stepped close to her, you could see she was more auburn than black.)

A purebred Sable Burmese, she entered my husband’s life after being abandoned by a second set of human “guardians.” When my husband’s life expanded to include me and a couple of other cats, her indignation rang loud and clear. She kept to herself and was easily annoyed by everyone around her. She had a range of strident, nails-on-a-blackboard vocalizations that we all dreaded and, as she aged, she added barking to this repertoire.

One evening we were watching television. The two younger cats were amusing themselves elsewhere and, in a rare moment, the Burmese deigned to join us. We gave her a treat—the last bit of yogurt on a spoon. Placing the spoon in a bowl, we set the treat on the floor for her.

Heaven! She was all over that spoon! We’d made her one very happy kitty.

But then she made such a racket clanging the spoon against the bowl that we couldn’t hear the television. As we turned to watch her, she stopped. In the quiet, she uttered one of her signature “Hrrmphs” and next, as if it was so-ooo-oo beneath her, she picked up the spoon with her right front paw, brought it to her tiny mouth, and licked the last bit off—the bit that had resisted her during all that noise.

My husband and I looked at one another, then back at the cat. She returned the spoon to the bowl and, satisfied, walked away.

We witnessed it only once, but it was enough to convince us that the Burmese was capable of anything—speaking five languages, roller-skating, leading Special Ops. Of course, these are mere Human activities and she crossed the line only when she deemed it absolutely necessary.

Animals are a great deal smarter than humans give them credit for. Just ask the Burmese. But don’t expect an answer.