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Quirky Folk - May 2008

My New Phobia

May 29th 2008 21:00


Photo by Walter Siegmund. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.



Regular readers of this blog would know about my fear of caterpillars, maggots and other larvae. But it wasn’t until today that I discovered I am also scared of dental procedures.

I have never liked going to the dentist but I am not anxious about it either – except when he sticks the needle in my mouth.

So I went for my semi-annual chomper check-up today, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. After all, I take good care of my teeth and any problems I have get looked at straight away. I haven’t had a toothache for years and normally my check-ups go smoothly…until today’s that is.

So there I was, clutching photos of Butterscotch the cat to take my mind off the dentist when I was told I might need root canal therapy in six month’s time. As my dentist showed me a diagram showing a cross-section of a tooth, complete with all the nerves and other gory bits and explained to me how root canal therapy works, I started to get anxious. It didn’t help when he said the other alternative was to have the tooth taken out. He explained due to the positioning of the tooth and the number of roots (or ‘legs’ as I call them) that yes, it will be complicated and yes, despite the needles to numb my jaw, I will still feel him yanking the tooth out. This only made me feel even more anxious. My dentist also told me root canal wasn’t going to be fun and that it might be uncomfortable. Of course, given my anxiety he could inject Valium into my arm to keep me relaxed throughout the whole procedure. This did nothing to reassure me as I wanted to be completely knocked out. Plus I hate needles.


My third option was to do nothing. This meant I would have to live with a constant toothache and eventually the tooth would have to be extracted or have root canal therapy done on it anyway.

Of course, my dentist stressed that he was giving me the worst case scenario. He said there is a fifty per cent chance I might not need anything done after all.

I am now dreading my next dentist’s appointment. I am so not happy right now. My dentist did say that if I am that anxious about the root canal/extraction that I can always have either procedure done under general anaesthetic. That’s the only option that doesn’t cause me anxiety. Of course, it will be a lot more expensive than having it done the ‘normal’ way but I’m prepared to pay the extra money. That was how I had my wisdom teeth taken out. I just hope my health insurance will cover it.
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The Day I Became a Cat Person

May 28th 2008 21:00


My favourite cat


My neighbour will kill me for saying this but I have to be truthful. I used to be a dog person for the same reason most people are dog people: dogs seemed more loyal and more fun. You can take them on walks and play fetch with them. Dogs are also friendly while cats are aloof.

Becoming acquainted with my neighbour’s cats did change my perceptions but I still preferred dogs to cats. It didn’t help that my neighbour’s cats were timid, reinforcing my feline preconceptions. And then I met my friend Brett’s cats, Butterscotch and Gingersnap. It was love at first touch. Butterscotch, being the more outgoing of the two, reached for me and stuck his paws inside my top. He and Gingersnap surrounded me, sniffing me and then started crawling all over me. I had never come across such friendly cats. When I pulled out my digital camera to take photos of them, Butterscotch would reach up and try to grab the camera strap. Gingersnap would hang around in the background and once Butterscotch lost interest in the strap, Gingersnap would have a go at trying to grab it. The same thing happened with my MP3 player – I looked down and found Gingersnap happily chewing away on my headphones. I got them away from him but it was too late. The headphones’ cords were chewed to the point of no return.

Then there was the purring. I have never encountered cats who could purr as loudly and constantly as those two. How could I not be affectionate towards them when they were showering me with so much love and happiness? To feel them headbutt me or rub their slender bodies against me gives me so much joy.

I am now both a cat and dog person. I enjoy both species but almost all my friends who have pets have cats so I end up spending more time with them.
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I was shocked when I read the following true facts in a book. According to Andrea McHugh, author of How to Have a Happy Cat, the oldest cat to give birth to kittens was 30 year old Litty. This was back in May 1987. On 7 August 1970, a Burmese cat called Tarawood Antigone gave birth to a whopping 19 kittens by Caesarian. Four of them were stillborn. I feel sorry for the poor things. Cats over 30 years old are rare so it’s like having your grandma or great grandma give birth! And how exhausted poor Tarawood would have felt after such a long labour. I wonder if both events made the Guinness Book of Records. I also wonder if Tarawood’s kittens survived as they must have literally been fighting for nipples to suckle on. Perhaps Tarawood rotated her kittens so each had a turn. Or maybe her owners also hand fed some of them.
Macicky
Photo by Prskavka. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.
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Helena’s Rabbit Dies

May 26th 2008 21:00

Photo supplied by Angus McLellan. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.


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Photo by Thomas Voekler. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.



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Photo supplied by Markus Hagenlocher. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.


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Tuxedo Sam Lolly Jar

May 21st 2008 21:00
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Beer For Dogs?

May 20th 2008 21:02
I saw this in Monday’s paper and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes.

Dog Beer story

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Why Do People Hate Cats?

May 19th 2008 21:00
Photo by Fir0002. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.



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Illustration by Dr F. Nemos. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

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It wasn’t until I had a vivid dream about caterpillars the other night that I realised how often they crop up in my dreams. I often dream about all the things I’m afraid of: falling down the stairs, maggots, caterpillars and my teeth falling out. With the exception of the falling-down-the-stairs dream (which always makes me wake up) these dreams just end and they fade into darkness or blend into a new dream. But the other night I had a caterpillar dream so vivid that the fright I experienced was enough to jolt me awake. I dreamt I was standing somewhere and I happened to be resting the heel of my palm against a pole. When I happened to look down I could see several caterpillars right against my palm. They were unusual caterpillars too – yellow, football–shaped ones with black hairs on the middle of their backs. I immediately gasped and pulled my hand away and in the process, I woke up and found I was safe in my bed.

It was like I was reliving a nasty experience I had at school. One day I was with a fellow caterpillar phobic girl and we were standing at the front lawn at school. We found a picnic table and were standing around talking to a guy called Richard when all of a sudden Richard pointed out to the girl that she had just placed her palm on the picnic table which now had caterpillars crawling towards her. The girl shrieked and we both ran off, much to Richard’s laughter.

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Mognancy: Kitty Pregnancy

May 14th 2008 21:00
Photo by Julianortega. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.
I told my workmate Kathryn that I wanted to give birth to a cat. A cat? Yes, a cat. I’m not big on human babies but puppies, kittens, ducklings…in fact most baby animals make my heart melt. Some human babies are cute (particularly those on Anne Geddes cards) but I find that most are not. Just look at newborns. Most of the time their faces look squashed, wrinkly and haggard. Sometimes you can even see forceps marks on them. Or, in my case, my head was squashed when I was born so one of my friends started calling me Egghead after she saw my baby photo. So not funny.

I’ve got a book at home called the RSPCA Complete Cat Care Manual by Dr Andrew Edney. The book has pictures of a lovely Burmese cat going through the stages of mognancy (my word for feline pregnancy). She looks so happy and at peace with herself, especially in the photo of her sitting in her kittening box, waiting to give birth. I am willing to go so far as to say she has that pregnancy glow, even though that sounds like one big cliché.

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Even though I am interested in animals, by no means do I claim to be an expert on any particular animal, except for maybe ducks and that’s only because I had personal experience with them as pets.

So imagine how surprised I was to find out from a book called Cats for Dummies that cats probably eat stillborn kittens. Ugh. One question kept popping into my head: Why?

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Photo by Bjarmason. Courtesy Wikimedia Commons.


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Polar bear taxidermied
Photo by Quadell. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.

Back in the days when we had our beloved ducks, Brown-o and White-o, my sister went through a pro-taxidermy stage. Even though she was only 14, she was already planning what to do when our ducks died. Our parents, who aren’t sentimental types, said they would simply put the ducks in the trash. We were horrified when we discovered this and felt our ducks deserved a better fate. My sister and I discussed burial. We thought it would be nice to bury them in the garden where they spent each day foraging through the plants. Then my sister came up with the taxidermy idea. We thought that was cool: We could get someone to preserve and stuff our dead ducks and we could have them inside the house as ornaments. Then we could pat them and pretend they were still alive. The idea they were still with us in a way appealed to us.

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Anyone who has been watching Sir David Attenborough’s Life in Cold Blood series would have seen footage of an African rock python swallowing an antelope, hooves and all. I almost couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My sister rang me during the commercial break to say, “Did you see that? That was disgusting!” Whilst I wasn’t disgusted, I marvelled at how it could open its mouth wide enough to be able to swallow the antelope. It also had me wondering – before Attenborough answered my question by saying the python won’t need to eat for another year – how often it devours such large prey. I dare say it wouldn’t be a comfortable experience. I wonder what will happen to the hooves and bones. Will they be digested along with the rest of the antelope? And what about the fur? It can’t be too tasty.

So when I saw this news item today,

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Under Your Wing Duck Book

May 7th 2008 21:00
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I recently discovered my father has necrophobia. He is scared of anything that is dead. While he can tolerate looking at dead plants and handling meat (he used to run a Chinese restaurant after all) he can’t stand the sight of dead people or animals. I find this strange as the rest of my immediate family are terrified of larvae and he used to yell at us for being too chicken to kill maggots in the bin or the stray caterpillar that crawled inside our house. You would think that since he has a phobia of his own he would have been more tolerant of us.
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Salty_egg
Photo by Kok69. Courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

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Bear Bride

May 4th 2008 21:00
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Tiger the Cat

May 1st 2008 21:00
This is my friend Craig’s daughter’s cat called Tiger. Tiger has been trained to jump up in the air and press the top of her head against Craig’s hand when he says, “Kitty pats.” Tiger was actually given to Craig’s daughter as a present. When he told me this I started to say it was good that he and his daughter were happy to provide a home for a cat as often animals given as presents are often dumped once the novelty was over. Craig interrupted and said that the person giving the cat away had called him in advance to check if it was okay to buy his daughter a cat. Now that’s responsible pet giving!

Tiger is a very gentle and quiet cat. Craig’s had her for years but she has never scratched anyone. I found her very calm and friendly. It was also cute to watch Craig standing there saying, “Kitty pats” and watching Tiger jump up to meet his hand. The only negative thing I can say about Tiger is that she’s hard to photograph because she’s always moving around. This was about as close as I could get to a photograph.

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