Playtime with Ozzy the Weasel!

I thought it was time to post something ridiculously and disgustingly adorable.

Ozzy is a “Least Weasel” (Mustela nivalis). It’s the smallest member of the Mustelidae (as well as the smallest of the Carnivora), native to Eurasia, North America and North Africa, though it has been introduced elsewhere. Despite its small size, the least weasel is a fierce hunter, capable of killing a rabbit 5-10 times its own weight

Is it possible to get any cuter than this?

This little gecko will turn that frown upside down. 🙂

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Spiderkitten.

My daughter’s 3 1/2 month old kitten Zelda was climbing the walls today.

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Update on Mr. Biggles.

I wrote about Mr. Biggles in this article; he had to be rehomed several months ago (along with my black lab mix, Dexter) because I simply didn’t have the space for so many kitties or the time to devote to my dog, who was alone in the house all day (I wound up keeping Cleo here). I gave Mr. Biggles and Dexter to my ex for awhile because he is always home (that is one thing I can trust him with–animals), but now he is living with my daughter and her boyfriend and seems to be thriving. If anything, he’s fatter and hairier than ever.

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That’s my daughter holding Mr. Biggles.

Chunky (Chunks): RIP 2003 – June 20, 2015

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I am very sad right now and this will probably be the only thing I write tonight.
A couple of hours ago, my fat cat Chunks died. I think it was cancer, most likely a tumor that eventually blocked her intestines.

I got her in 2011, when she was 8. She was already middle aged, fat but sassy, and while she loved her people (especially me) she used to show my other kitties (and dog Daisy, then Dexter) exactly where they stood. One of the things she loved to do was suck on my fingers at night. She was probably dreaming of kittenhood, being fed by her mom, when she did that.

No matter how many low fat diets she was put on, or how many reduced feedings, she kept getting fatter. When I could afford to, I took her to the vet and he put her on a special diet for awhile but it didn’t work because she didn’t like the bland Science Diet he gave her.

Generally though, she was healthy–as an overweight middle aged lady can be. Occasionally I’d give her a little catnip and that would perk her up and she’d run around the house making everyone laugh because it was so unexpected and she looked so funny running around like that.

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The past few weeks I noticed she was losing weight. She started vomiting more than usual (she always puked a lot because she ate too fast) but not excessively so. I tried putting her on a blander diet and giving her smaller portions. But she started to become lethargic last week and went off her feed. I couldn’t find any vets who wouldn’t charge and I couldn’t afford to take her to one, but she didn’t really seem that uncomfortable. I spent more time with her and brought her up on my bed at night to sleep with me. She hadn’t done that in awhile.

Yesterday she stopped eating. This morning she vomited something that looked and smelled like feces. I knew her time had come. There wasn’t anything to do but wait.

She slept most of the day and at about 3 PM I heard her cry in pain. I rushed into the living room where she lay, and dark brown, almost black blood was coming from her mouth. Normally something like that would gross me out (I’m a pretty squeamish person) but when it’s someone you love, it doesn’t. You heart breaks for them of course, but the sight of blood or bodily fluids isn’t disgusting, not when there’s love there.

She went unconscious and started to convulse badly. I cried as I sat down on the floor next to her and petted and stroked her as she finally went across the Rainbow Bridge. I said a prayer and told her I was sorry I couldn’t have done more. I told her I loved her.

She didn’t suffer for long, only a minute, and the spot where she died was the exact same spot my dog Daisy died 2 1/2 years ago. Wiping away tears, I read the copy of The Rainbow Bridge, and then found a cardboard cat carrier to lay her in, put a towel on the bottom, and covered her with a little dog-and-cat printed blanket.

I’ll miss you, Chunks.

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Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….

Author unknown…

Dexter at home in his new home.

Dexter has been living with my daughter and her boyfriend now for over a month. I think he looks very chill and happy.

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Click photo to enlarge.

Obligatory cute kitten post.

https://vine.co/v/ea0bJgvBdiL/embed/simple

Sorry, but I wasn’t able to embed this Vine video. Click on link to watch. ❤

Happy Caturday

I felt like I needed something light and cute after my last post. This made me smile. 🙂 Cats are awesome.

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Downsizing the menagerie.

Today I will be rehoming my dog, Dexter and two of my cats–Mr. Biggles and Cleo. I wrote about all my pets back in November in this post.

Some of you may be shocked or even upset with me that the person who is taking them is none other than my MN ex. You may assume I don’t care about my pets or that I am a terrible pet owner for allowing this. But there’s a few practical and even good reasons I made the decision to let him take my dog and two of my cats.

1. My ex, in spite of his terrible treatment of people (women in particular) has always been very kind to animals. I have never known him to be cruel to any animal and in fact he has more patience with them than I do. Even psychopathic malignant narcissists like him may have their good points–a small uncorrupted part of their soul that sticks out from the mass of malignancy like a blade of grass sticking out of a pile of dog crap.

2. Mr. Biggles was his cat (my ex was the one who brought him home originally) and he was always more attached to him than I was. In fact, Biggles was his favorite.

3. Cleo would be living in a more remote area that is less close to the main roads than I am (my ex finally found a place to live and it’s nice). She’s an indoor/outdoor cat (who prefers the outdoors) and will be less likely to be hit by a car.

4. Dexter was initially my ex’s dog (he adopted him too) and frankly, I’m more of a cat person than a dog person which means I don’t give Dexter the attention he requires or play with him as much as I should. Lately he’s been whining a lot and acting neurotic due to the lack of attention but I just don’t have enough interest or time (because I work all day) to spend more time interacting with him, although I do try. My ex was always very attached to Dexter and I know will spend more time playing with him than I do. He’s also on disability so is home all the time.
He also has a fenced in area in the back of the house that I do not. Dexter needs to run, and I can’t afford to have my yard fenced in right now.

5. Not that I really give a damn about my ex’s feelings anymore, but having these 3 animals he already knows well would make him happy. I’m a nice person.

6. Living in a 2-bedroom house, I have more pets than I can practically afford or maintain. This will bring the number down to three cats.

7. The cats would be happier if there weren’t so many of them crammed into a small place like this. They like their space and are invading each others’ boundaries!

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Cleo.

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Mr. Biggles.

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Dexter.

It’s not without some sadness I will be saying goodbye to Cleo, Mr. Biggles and Dexter today. I love all three of them and will miss them, but I know this is the right decision and that they will be okay. If I knew they would be treated badly or ignored, I would not be parting with them.

Can narcissists feel empathy for a pet?

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I wonder.

Earlier today I posted Sam Vaknin’s story about his goldfish Ned. He seemed to be feeling something close to empathy for the tiny creature’s suffering when it became ill and something closely resembling grief when the end finally came. Rather than watch the fish continue to suffer, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Did he do this to end the fish’s suffering–or to end his own suffering?

But even if he only desired to end his own suffering, watching the goldfish suffer was causing him pain. So either way, he cared about the fish, even if he only did what he did because watching Ned continue to get sicker was too painful.

This made me think about other narcissists I know who own pets. Do they really care about their pets, or are their pets, like their children, just extensions of themselves?

I think the answer is both. Yes, many narcissists who own pets regard them as extensions of themselves. I think of a neighbor of mine, an insufferable, conceited malignant narcissist if I ever saw one, who has a purebred Bichon Friese. She said she would never own a “mutt” from the pound. Oh, no. Only a purebred dog who makes HER look good will do. She puts bows in Fifi’s hair and gets her toenails painted at the groomer’s. She takes her everywhere and shows her off, as if she’s showing off a new car. Narcissists treat their children the same way–as accessories to make them look good, but because a dog isn’t supposed to have a mind of its own, it’s more acceptable and far less damaging to a dog to be treated this way than it would be for a child.

Yet it’s clear she loves that dog. She spoils Fifi rotten, and the little dog seems happy enough. Again, it’s a dog, not a child, so being objectified is probably okay. I know if anything were to happen to Fifi, this woman would be devastated with grief, at least until she found a new source of canine narcissistic supply. She’s the type who would probably have a funeral for her dog and a custom made urn with Fifi’s likeness painted on it to display on her mantel.

But she would also not hesitate to have Fifi put down were she to become ill. Some may say this is the humane thing to do–that anyone with a conscience and a heart would not want to see a pet suffer needlessly, and that’s true if the pet is truly ill and has little to no chance of recovery or is in a great deal of pain. But to a narcissist, a sick pet is also an inconvenience and a burden. A sick pet is no longer an acceptable extension of themselves; it becomes a separate being who has needs of its own that do not fit the narcissist’s agenda. A sick pet no longer makes them look good.

How much will a narcissist sacrifice before having an ill pet put down? Most people won’t euthanize a pet unless everything else has been tried first. It’s a last resort, something none of us want to do, but at some point it becomes more selfish to try to keep a sick pet alive than to put an end to its suffering. I remember years ago a narcissistic woman I knew had her cat put down because it had worms. The cat was suffering severe diarrhea and was losing weight. The worms could have been easily treated, but she didn’t want to be bothered. Cleaning up the cat’s messes was too much of a chore, and apparently so was taking the cat to the vet to be treated. So she had her cat put to sleep. It’s pretty obvious this woman didn’t have the cat euthanized out of humane compassion, but because it was more convenient than trying to keep him alive. To her, the cat was not a living creature, but a toy to be tossed away the minute it was no longer so much fun to play with or required maintenance.

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It can work the other way too. I knew a narcissistic man who also had a dog, a beautiful Golden Retriever named Bruno. When Bruno was about 12, he developed cancer. The man was very attached to Bruno, and used to tell everyone he was the only friend he had. Even when Bruno got to the point where he stopped eating and slept most of the time, the man refused to have him euthanized. The animal was clearly suffering, and everyone told him it was the only humane thing to do, but the man still refused. Bruno finally died at home in an emaciated state. Clearly, this man cared nothing about Bruno’s suffering even though he appeared to love the dog. He obviously was attached to his pet, but if he truly loved him, he would have put the animal’s needs first, even if it hurt to do so. Real love–whether for a pet or another human being–requires sacrifice and putting the other’s needs first. This man may have “loved” his dog, but he was putting his own needs first.

Most narcissists claim to be attached to their pets, and most of the ones I know truly are. But is attachment love? Or does attachment to a pet just mean the animal is another source of narcissistic supply–a creature who is never going to judge them, disagree with them, insult them, or abandon them?

Sam’s grief over his goldfish appears to have been real, and I think he did the right thing because that fish was most likely suffering (as much as a goldfish can suffer) and wasn’t going to make it. Would he have been the same way with a cat or a dog–or a child? We can’t answer that. Maybe it’s easier for a narcissist to feel empathy and act in unselfish ways for a simple creature–a reptile, fish or invertebrate–who is very unlike a human (unlike a cat or dog, who resemble human children in many ways) and therefore make fewer emotional demands on them. Maybe narcissists just can’t empathize with other humans or highly evolved animals who resemble them too closely or make too many emotional demands.