Your cat wants you to read this

As housemates of a beloved orange tabby named Gatsby, we've been following closely the recall news on poisoned pet food. Fortunately, the Gat Cat won't eat wet food, so unless it shows up in IAMS dry kibble he's probably OK.

However, now there's this: Cats May Be at Greater Risk in Pet Food Recall.

The article quotes Steve Hanson, director of the ASPCA's Animal Poison Control Center as saying, "Cats are very sensitive to many different chemicals, whether drugs, pesticides or plants. We certainly know they have some unique physiological responses that make them susceptible in cases where we wouldn't expect it in other species."

A quick Google search also turned up Ten Tips for a Poison Safe Household at the American Cat Fanciers Association web site.

If you have pets of any kind, you may want to check out those links and take down the number for Animal Poison Control, open 24/7: 888-426-4435. (They do charge a $55 consultation fee, FYI.)

Your cat will thank you. Well, maybe your cat will thank you. If he's in the mood.

Starting fresh

Well, that's it. All the old blogs I can find are deleted, except for the private, "experimental" ones here and at AOL. They're good for spare parts, so to speak. The AOL version of Maraca has been freshened and tidied up, and saved links will be added here in time. This feels soooo good.

On the pleasures of the pen

Those who know me well know I prefer to do any serious writing on good paper with a real pen. In my aforementioned purge of the Blogs of Yore, I discovered one related, rambling entry in Midnight Maraca. Unfortunately, it requires a font that Blog spot doesn't offer, so I posted it over at ::gasp:: AOL.

Here you go -- the first and last public peek into my now-defunct inner sanctum: Vladimir Script.

(Poor old AOL. Their ability to attract loyal users was surpassed only by their talent for driving them off. )

Spring cleaning

Looks like my office isn't the only thing in need of a good pitch-'n-ditch session.

I happened to click on my name in a comment I left on an AOL journal, just to see what happens these days when you do that, and was shocked to find a list of five - count 'em, five - journals that I don't use and barely remember having.

The main one was the old pre-Exodus Maraca. One was Bloggy Goodness, a sub-journal for Maraca, linking to other AOL journals.

One was called Pocket Change, for investing and saving ideas and related links I wanted to keep handy.

Two were private, with no readers allowed: Experiments, for trying new features without the risk of demolishing a real journal, and Midnight Maraca for the dark, introspective crapola and stream-of-consciousness writing that nobody needs to see. (Hence the plural, "mymaracas". Just FYI.)

Five. And that's just for one screen name on one service. There may still be others out there, if memory serves. So what's up with that? What the hell is wrong with me? Am I the only one does this?

Anyway, here goes. I'll move over a post or two and links I want to save, and then I'll delete whatever's left. I think I'll hold on to the old Maraca on AOL though, mostly because I'm too lazy to wade through it. Maybe revamp it as an archive/landing page.

While I'm at it, I have noticed that a number of linked journals on this blog have stopped working. Others have been abandoned or gone private, or the owners no longer keep in touch. I'm keeping the list on my computer, but the links are going bye-bye. (If there's anybody out there who'd like to be linked, please say so.)

Wish me luck.

Blink ...

I seem to be awake. It must be Spring.

I believe there are bears in my family tree. Hibernation comes too naturally to me for it to be an accident. Once the holiday hooplah passes and the dark, snowy silence sets in, I love nothing more than sleep. Every chance I get, I burrow into the soft warmth of a down comforter and drift away to a better place. The longer I stay there, the more colorful and bizarre the dreams are. And I do love dreams.

Now there is that unmistakable change in the air, a freshness, the scent of new earth and possibilities. The drapes are open. The bed is made. It's time to shake off the stupor, step into the sun, and see what's going on in the garden.

(How do people live where there are no seasons?)

Happy Saint Pat's!

' Tis a while since in here I've been messing
(The reasons are not worth confessing)
But I'm back for today
To stop in and say
A favorite wee Irish blessing:

May you have warm words on a cold evening,

A full moon on a dark night,

And the road downhill all the way to your door.

*With many thanks to Bon and Mal for the warm words and moonlight in my colder, darker nights.