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Friday, February 22, 2008
Bill heps us to the latest news on cats vs dogs. When a dog just won't do:
A new study suggests cat owners are less likely to die of a heart attack or stroke than people who, well, don't own cats. And no, dogs don't do the same trick. The study, by researchers at the University of Minnesota, found that feline-less people were 30 to 40 percent likelier to die of cardiovascular disease than those with cats. Yet dog owners had the same rate as non-owners. "No protective effect of dogs as domestic pets was observed," said the study, which was presented Thursday at the International Stroke Conference in New Orleans. Labels: Animals Thursday, January 18, 2007
Did you know there is such a thing as cat AIDS? It's all true, as SP likes to say.
Read all about it. Feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV) causes an infectious disease in domestic cats and cheetahs similar to human immunodeficiency virus (HIV infection) in humans. The virus attacks and weakens the body?s immune system, making the animal susceptible to infections and diseases that don't affect healthy cats. There is no cure for FIV. FIV is a lentivirus, a virus that causes slowly developing disease. Although the disease is eventually fatal, an FIV-positive cat can live for many years without any signs of illness. More proof that God hates cats. Labels: Animals Monday, May 22, 2006
The story of our cat Lola showing an almost Atomizer-like taste for gin brought about a number of interesting responses.
JB puts her action to song: Well she walked up to me and she asked me to dance I said no not now you're just a cat Lola L-o-l-a Lola She dipped in my gin when I turned my back I said shoo you beast 'fore I pound you flat Lola L-o-l-a Lola EJ reports that gin fever is not restricted to felines: Major Lewis and his lovely wife had a yellow lab named Morgan, who used to visit us on the patio whenever we barbequed. Mom and Dad always had a big martini beaker filled with ice they'd leave in the kitchen to sweat the gin. Every weekend they went through quite a bit of gin and couldn't figure it out. They suspected us kids, but we only stole the beer. Anyway, they finally realized that every time they got up, they were putting their martinis down on the ground next to their chairs and then Morgan would get up from his usual spot, walk over to lap up all the gin he could from their glasses, and then quickly go back to his favorite spot and lie down. They finally figured out why he was so friendly and well-behaved because one Saturday evening Mrs. Lewis called Morgan to come home when we were all sitting outside grilling our supper and Morgan got up, knocked over all the tray tables and crashed headlong into the bushes before beginning a zig-zagging and stumbling jaunt all the way across our backyards to throw up on Mrs. Lewis's back porch. He threw up six olives and of course wreaked of alcohol. So that's how we met Major and Mrs. Lewis, who thereafter frequently came over for cocktails and brought Morgan, who always got his own martini. He'd lie on the ground with his martini between his paws and just lap it up. We gave him a glass that he couldn't quite get his nose in, but had just enough room to "sip" off the top. We'd refill it for him and give him another olive, but Mrs. Lewis insisted he not get so drunk that he couldn't walk home like a proper dog. We tried giving him beer and scotch, but he wouldn't touch it. He only liked gin. Beefeater. And he was always very well-behaved. Cool dog. And finally, Henry can't resist having a little fun: I always thought catatonic applied only to felines lapping up gin and quinine water. [Ba doom boom] Labels: Animals Sunday, May 21, 2006
Saturday night and I'm preparing to fire up the grill and throw a coupla steaks on. Before I head outside to 'que, I mix up a batch of Martinis made with "ridiculously good" Hendricks Gin, pour myself one, and set it on my basement bar. I then walk over to select a bottle of wine to serve with dinner.
When I return to the bar, I recoil in horror as I see one of our cats, Lola, standing with her hind paws on a bar stool, her face on the bar, tongue in my Martini. Tongue in my Martini!?!? It wasn't like she just had a sample sip out of curiosity either. She was lapping it up like a saucer of milk. Unbelievable. After shooing her away, I kept a close eye on her the rest of the night to make sure she didn't suffer any adverse reactions to the booze. She seemed fine, if a little more laid back than normal. In the future, I'll be mindful not to turn my back on my Martini when she's in the room. Cats dig gin. Who knew? Labels: Animals
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