You can’t help smiling when you see this little face. I guess it’s no surprise otters are my favorite animal after cats.
Tag Archives: animals
Do dogs go to heaven?
This is the first time I am reblogging a post I disagree with. I respect this blogger’s religious beliefs and I’m a Christian, but sometimes the crazy on this blog is off the charts, with all its hellfire and brimstone pontifications and nutty conspiracy theories about things like the Illuminati. He has a vendetta against Catholics and I do have a problem with that.
I follow his blog anyway because of its WTF factor. I never commented on any of this blogger’s posts before but I couldn’t let this one pass.
When I look into the eyes of my dog (or any dog, or cat for that matter) I see love, pain, shame, joy, sadness, fear– the whole gamut of emotions humans experience there. They must have a soul. I think animals automatically go to heaven because they do not have free will.
Besides, Heaven without pets in it would be hell to me.
Saying goodbye to Babycat
A few days ago I posted some photos of my pets. Babycat, who is 5, used to be a beautiful semi-longhaired tabby that looked exactly like a Maine Coon. She has always been extremely affectionate and people oriented, but she was always my daugher Molly’s cat first. Since the time she was a tiny kitten she always had a special relationship with my daughter.

Babycat before she lost all her hair.
A few weeks ago, Molly moved out of our home and is now living with a nice, well educated man named Paul who works as a med tech. He is quite a bit older than she (he is 38!) but he seems to genuinely care for her and I don’t get any negative vibes from him. In fact, he’s much better than the various boys she has dated in their early 20s who only care about partying, sex, and getting high. Most of them still live with their parents too. Paul has a good income, his own house, and Molly and he are already in a serious relationship and decided to move into his house, which is larger than mine and has a much more modern kitchen with all the latest appliances.
Babycat has been staying with me, but I have 4 other cats and a dog, and she’s really not the sort of cat who cares to be around other cats too much. She is naturally high strung, jumpy and neurotic but has become more so since Molly left. Since Molly has been gone, Babycat has been depressed, walks around looking lost, and has lost weight and chewed out large patches of her beautiful fur, to the point she now looks like a scrawny shorthair tabby instead of the luxuriously coated Maine Coon lookalike she used to be.

Babycat looking patchy and depressed.
I have been feeding her separately from the other cats, and feeding her a high calorie diet, mixed with the occasional raw egg for her coat, but she hasn’t shown too much improvement appearance-wise, although she doesn’t seem sick.
Paul and Molly stopped by tonight to pick up a few of her things, and to talk about Thanksgiving plans. I talked to them about Babycat, and Molly agreed it would be best for her to take her back to their apartment. She would get plenty of attention and only have to deal with one other cat (Paul’s cat). Most importantly, Babycat will be with her mommy, Molly, who has always been closer to her than anyone else in our family. I think we made the right decision, and with one fewer cat around my small house, the rest of the cats have a bit more space to themselves. I’ll miss Babycat, but I think this is the right thing to do for her. They also plan to take her to the vet as soon as they can, to rule out any serious medical problems.
Psychopaths and pets
There’s been a lot written about the devastating effect psychopaths have on other people, but what about their pets? Do psychopaths even have enough empathy to keep pets?
Unfortunately, yes they do. But for them, pets are a means to an end, a creature that can be exploited in various ways that serve the psychopath, rather than a friend and companion. A pet can be a way to “keep up with the Joneses” (if most of their neighbors and relatives have pets). They have no genuine love for the animals under their care, and often treat them badly or even abuse them. Here is an article I just read last night where the blogger calls out his MN sister about the callous way she puts her cat to sleep because she’s moving, even though there’s nothing wrong with the cat. Later the blogger describes the cruel manner in which the woman’s two beautiful dogs are left outside on a chain even in the searing heat or freezing cold, and are never played with or paid attention to. Eventually, this cold woman tells her brother she will be having her depressed but otherwise healthy golden retriever put down “because he’s old.”
I remember when we lived in a trailer park for about a year, some of our neighbors treated their animals very badly. I don’t know if it was just ignorance (most of the people living in the trailer park were not too well educated) or if we had a surplus of psychopaths living around us, but I remember one poor dog in particular. In fact, this dog was a black lab/Doxie mix who was the sister of my dog, Dexter (who we acquired from a family who lived in another trailer in that park).
Rain or shine, snow or sleet, or on the hottest days of summer, that poor dog was left outside attached to a clanking metal chain in the driveway. The few times I saw anyone interacting with that dog was when the owner, a raging drunk whose wife had called the police on a number of occasions for abusing her, would kick the dog or yell at him. I would have called the police, but was afraid of the repercussions, and also the dog had become so aggressive I knew no one would adopt her and she would have been put down. Maybe that would have been the best thing for her though, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time, being embroiled in my own mess with my own psychopath. I did try to interact with the poor dog occasionally, but she would just bare her teeth and growl. I would look at my Dexter, with his sweet, affectionate personality, and think of what his poor sister could have been had she been cared for by loving owners. I have no doubt that owner was a psychopath. Anyone acting that cruel toward his pet is someone without much or any empathy. A person who just dislikes animals would not have a pet at all, not keep one around just to abuse it. The owner probably kept the dog for “protection.” Why else have one?

Is this dog’s owner a psychopath?
In fact, you see that a lot. There are many people who keep a dog, usually an “aggressive” breed such as a Rottweiler or Pitt Bull, as a method of security. No one will try to break into a house or trespass if there is a barking, aggressive dog present. People who keep dogs as a form of security aren’t necessarily psychopathic though. A normal person who keeps a dog for such a reason will still play with the animal and be affectionate toward it when it’s not “on duty.” But if the animal is ignored, or left outside all the time, that’s a different story. Whenever you read or hear a heartbreaking story about a vulnerable animal being neglected or abused, you can bet it’s owner was a psychopath. In fact, pets, being helpless and trusting, often serve the same purpose as a child or vulnerable person: as a scapegoat.
There are other psychopaths who like to brag about how aggressive their dog is. The dog is an extension of themselves, and they take pride in training it to attack or act aggressively toward others, not as a form of security, but as a way to intimidate other people through their dog. Training a dog to be aggressive just to be aggressive is also a form of animal abuse.
Then there are those who, like my MN mother, keep a dog or other animal as a status symbol. They always choose a purebred animal, often a type that is trendy or expensive and makes them appear to be wealthy to others. My mother has a purebred Bichon Freze, a very cute dog, but it’s an extension of herself rather than a companion. She takes it in to a groomer monthly to have its nails done and puts bows on its head. I’m sure if this dog develops health problems, no matter how minor, she will have the dog put to sleep. Several years earlier, she had a purebred toy poodle, and when she got old, callously had her put to sleep, even though she had no health problems other than a little trouble walking due to arthritis. When I questioned her about why she took such drastic action, she just shrugged and told me she didn’t have the time to deal with an ailing animal. I don’t recall her even shedding a tear.
There are purebred animals that have been inbred so much they have health problems. I think anyone who breeds a dog or cat for a certain “look” at the expense of its health is lacking a conscience or empathy, at least toward animals. These people are breeding animals to have a deformity! Imagine breeding humans to have a condition such as Spina Bifida. How is it any different? Persian cats are a perfect example of a cat breed that has been bred to have a pushed in, flat (and in my opinion, ugly) face and as a result they have breathing and other health problems. Some dog and cat breeds, such as the “munchkin” cat or Bassett hound have serious spinal issues or have trouble walking due to their excessively short legs.
Some psychopaths use pets as a way to torment or control their children. They will purchase or acquire an animal for a child, and then if the child misbehaves, hold the threat “I’ll have Fido or Fluffy put to sleep if you do that again” over the kids’ heads. This is mental torture. My N-ex’s mother was a narcissist herself and used this tactic to manipulate him. When Michael was five, his father brought home a white puppy. He loved that dog and spent all his free time with him (he may not have been a narcissist yet, it’s hard to say). One day when he was five, he was coloring with crayons on the hardwood floor, sitting in a patch of sun that came in through the living room window. Buster, the puppy, was sitting next to him watching. There was also a pair of child’s plastic scissors on the floor. As children will do, he left to do something else without putting the crayons and scissors away. But before he came back, Michael’s mother discovered the crayons had melted all over the wooden floor. Surely she couldn’t have really thought the melted red and purple crayons were blood, but when Michael returned to coloring, she pointed to the waxy, melted mess and the scissors and accused him of “cutting the dog.” Buster did have a little red crayon on his fur but was not cut and wasn’t hurt in any way. To punish Michael, his mother announced she was having the puppy put to sleep, in order to “teach him a lesson.” And so she did. So psychopaths will use animals to manipulate, control and torment their children.
Some psychopaths and narcissists will acquire a pet to control other people. My ex, Michael (the grown up version of the little boy in the last paragraph) did this. Now he actually was an animal lover (and always said he preferred animals to people), but he also used them as a way to say “fuck off” to me. I’m an animal lover and have always had pets, but I remember when in 2011, he adopted a dog without asking me how I felt about it. At the time, I already had three cats and Dexter, my dog. The house I live in is small, and there wasn’t room for another dog. For several weeks he had been combing Craigslist looking at puppies. He wasn’t working and was basically freeloading while I paid all the bills. Not only was there not room for another dog, I couldn’t afford one. I begged him to not get any ideas. Michael assured me he was “just looking” and to stop worrying.
Well, lo and behold, one day I came home from work to find a puppy in his arms on the couch. I was angry and told him there was no way I could take care of another pet, and he would have to take it back. He said he wouldn’t. “Too bad, he’s here to stay,” he said.
The puppy was a Jack Russell/Beagle mix and the loudest, most undisciplined, and hyper dog I ever met. Michael refused to train him and a year later this dog was still pooping and peeing in the house. He also tore up everything, and I’d regularly come home from work to find the house in a shambles. Michael never bothered to pick up the mess. He’d just make excuses for his pet, whining “but he’s just a puppy!” even though the dog was a year old. If me or my daughter tried to discipline him, Michael accused us of being cruel. Talk about gaslighting!
The dog (who he named Barnaby) also barked constantly and ran away at least 3 times a week. We’d hear Barnaby barking and howling somewhere in the neighborhood but he wouldn’t return for hours, no matter how much we called him. He was a neighborhood nuisance, and three times neighbors called animal control. Still, Michael refused to discipline or train him. That job fell to me and my daughter, but of course we were “cruel” or “hated animals.”
The third time animal control showed up, I told them to please take the dog. I never wanted him in the first place, and I couldn’t control him. I didn’t want to pay a $75 fine to keep him, so away he went. I felt bad about the fact he would probably be put down, but there was nothing else I could do. Michael, of course, was livid, and said “I never realized how much you hated animals.” Of course only HIS needs mattered. He didn’t care that all the training and financial expense of the dog fell on me. He also didn’t care about Barnaby’s needs: he was wel aware that Jack Russells (and Beagles) are extremely active dogs that need to run. It’s in their genes. We were living in a small house with a tiny unfenced yard, and that’s not an appropriate setting for a dog like Barnaby. But like all narcissists, Michael was like a three year old: “I want a dog and I better have one and I don’t care what you think!” Now I love dogs, but in Barnaby’s case, I was never so happy to see the last of that animal. I hope someone with a large fenced yard and time to train him appropriately adopted him.
So yes, psychopaths do keep pets, but they are kept for all the wrong reasons–to control others, to serve as scapegoats or status symbols, to guard property, and generally to serve as extensions of the psychopath. And that’s about it. Psychopaths and narcissists have no genuine love for animals, just as they have none for other people.
Trivia and Snoopy: A love story
WARNING: If you are easily upset by sad animal stories, you may want to skip reading this post.
In 1968, when I was eight, we acquired a cat. My parents weren’t cat lovers, but my two parakeets (Maurice and Herr Vogel) had recently died (their cage sat on top of a heat register and the cage had overheated) and I was paralyzed with grief. My father (recently identified by me as a low-level narcissist and enabler), in one of his infrequent moments of compassion, decided to bring home a kitten to cheer me up.
My dad named her Trivia, because she was so small. Trivia was a brown and black female tabby, with huge, beautiful green eyes. I fell in love with her and soon recovered from my grief over my lost birds.
Trivia grew up to be friendly and playful, and always slept curled up next to me at night. Unfortunately, I have no photos of her anymore (since my MN-mother told me she threw away all the family photos because I asked for them), but here is a photo of another cat that looks a lot like Trivia:
At first Trivia was an indoor cat, but when she was about a year old, she started sneaking outside and there was no keeping her confined to the house once she got a whiff of the great outdoors. At first I was worried she might not come back or something might happen to her, but my fears were unfounded. Trivia always came home before it got dark or when she got hungry. She was never very far, and even came when you called her name.
Next door was a large gray tabby tomcat named Snoopy. He was about three times Trivia’s size and looked intimidating, but soon they became close friends. The cats would snooze together on the neighbor’s porch, and sometimes you could find the two of them on top of my father’s big yellow Pontiac, grooming each other or just sleeping. Every morning, Snoopy actually came to the back screen door and meowed loudly and pitifully until we let Trivia out. I really think he was in love with her. He was certainly an attentive and devoted lover, and very handsome to boot.
One beautiful summer evening Trivia didn’t come home. We called and called her, but she wouldn’t come. This just was so unlike her. My father and I looked all over the backyard, and then the neighborhood. Some of the neighborhood kids even joined the search, but Trivia was nowhere to be found.
She never came home that night, or the next. Snoopy was nowhere to be found either.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny. My mother found Snoopy meowing at the backdoor again, and thought he was calling for Trivia to come out. She shooed him away, but Snoopy stood steadfast. She called me downstairs to take Snoopy back to his house. When Snoopy saw me, he mewed sadly and I knew something was wrong. He turned and walked slowly back to his house next door. Something told me I should follow him.
There was an overgrown hedge of boxwoods that ran along the far side of the neighbor’s home. That’s where Snoopy went, and I followed him there. I was overtaken with a feeling of impending doom. Snoopy stopped in front of the most overgrown thicket of hedge, and looked up at me. I looked down into the patch of weeds on the ground, and saw a patch of brown tabby fur. It was Snoopy’s best friend, Trivia.
I leaned down to get a closer look, then leapt up and ran home sobbing. We came back with a blanket and wrapped her up in it, and drove her to the animal hospital. The examination found that she had been fatally hit by a car but hadn’t died immediately. She suffered massive internal bleeding but somehow managed to make her way to the hedges next to Snoopy’s house to die there. I realized that the reason we hadn’t seen Snoopy for almost two days was because he had been with Trivia, keeping vigil over her in the hedges.
Snoopy was never the same after that. In fact, we never saw him much anymore, and when we did, he didn’t look the same. He lost weight and a year later died of natural causes. I truly believe animals can feel love the way humans can, and poor Snoopy died of a broken heart.
Meet my pets
I meant to post earlier about my pets, but I had to make some space on my phone to take new photos. This morning I finally got the opportunity. I have 5 kitties and a dog, Dexter. Each of them has their own unique personality and hopefully these photos capture some of that. I’m posting the cats in the order I acquired each one.
Chunks is about 9 or 10, so she is the oldest of the group. Her original name was Ione, but it didn’t stick and Chunks is who she became, and from these photos you can see why. She looks like a meatloaf! Chunks spends most of her time sleeping, and (surprise!) eating. At night she likes to sleep at the foot of my bed and sometimes licks my fingers. I think she must be part Siamese because of her bright blue eyes and and loud meow.
Babycat is 5. She was adopted by my daughter as a tiny kitten whose mother had been killed by a car. You can’t tell from these photos, but Babycat used to look like a Maine Coon and had gorgeous semi-long fur and a bushy tail. But she is very nervous and jumpy, and has a habit of chewing her fur until she pulls it out. I think she also may have a skin allergy because she is also missing fur in places she can’t reach, like the back of her neck. When I have the funds I plan to take her to the vet and find out what can be done so she grows back her beautiful fur. But Babycat is also very friendly and affectionate, as long as you don’t pick her up (she will squirm to get loose). She gets along well with Chunks, but seems to prefer to keep her distance from the other kitties.
Sheldon, my black and white tuxedo cat, came to my home at the same time as Cleo, but they aren’t from the same litter. He and Cleo are about 4. Of all the cats, Sheldon is the most people oriented and can be downright doglike in his demands for attention! He will follow you around meowing and he announces himself when he walks into a room, chirping and trilling like a bird. He loves my dog, Dexter the most and wrestles with him more like a puppy than a cat. Sheldon’s also the most likely to get into trouble, knocking things over (for attention I think!) or scratching the furniture. He’s a funloving guy who loves to go out, and will not leave you alone until he gets his way. The first two photos show him begging to go outside. It was very hard to get him to stay still long enough to get a good photo!
Cleo is an easygoing kitty and very small. She still looks like a kitten. But don’t let her delicate appearance fool you. She is a world class hunter and often brings home a “surprise.” She has even captured rabbits and other animals much bigger than a mouse! She can run up a tree faster than you can say “Boo” and knows how to get herself back down too. She gets along well with everyone and while not as affectionate as Babycat and Sheldon, doesn’t mind being pet and occasionally even carried around. Sometimes she jumps down from a perch on the cat tree and rides around on my shoulders. The first photo is one I took of her during the summer.
Mr. Biggles is about 3. He is a handsome guy and as you can see, he’s the most photogenic of all the kitties. He knows how pretty he is because he’ll actually stop and stay still for the camera. He’s an easygoing, chill guy who gets along well with everyone but he’s terribly clumsy, and often misses when he tries to jump to a high surface. Nothing phases him though, and pretty soon he’ll try again. He’s fearless. He also loves his beauty rest.
Dexter is a very pretty black lab/Dachsund mix (he mom was a Doxie) who we adopted from a neighbor when he was about 4 or 5 months old. He’s a very sweet, affectionate boy and loves car rides more than anything. He likes all the cats, especially Mr. Biggles and Sheldon. He will whine for attention and loves to run. He’s a terrible watchdog though, and rarely barks unless he is playing.
Here’s a couple of bonus photos I took of the cats on the cat tree in the living room, after I sprinked some catnip on it. The brown and white cat in the bottom left side of the photo is Isaiah, a friend’s cat we are watching while he is away.
Click on the photos to enlarge.
Ways to pet your cat.
Spooky Coon!
Fluff piece
I try to balance my blog without losing its focus on narcissism and related personality disorders, because that’s the whole reason I started this blog–to help myself and others enmeshed in psychopathic relationships and/or recovering from the wounds they inflicted on us. So if I notice too many posts in a row unrelated to narcissism, I’ll deliberately post a few about narcissism. But even people interested in a topic can grow bored, so if I think I’ve blogged too much about narcissism, or if I notice they’re not getting as many hits or likes, I figure people need a break and I’ll post about something else.
I also try to include a fluff piece here and there to keep things light–something humorous or silly, or a nice photo with just a few words. Today was going to be my day to do that, since I haven’t posted one in a while. My post “Saying goodbye to a friend” qualifies I suppose, but its subject matter is so sad I have to post a real fluff piece today. So here it is.
Saying goodbye to a friend
My son had to put his pet ferret, Ozzie, to sleep today. Ozzie was suffering from cancer and was having seizures, so having him put down was the humane and compassionate thing to do. This photo captured their last moment together at the vet’s office. It made me cry, and I don’t cry easily. There’s just something about the human-animal bond. Ozzie must have known he was loved.
RIP Ozzie. You’re over the rainbow bridge now.


































