Month: January 2022

Posted on

Episode 2 – Shammy Takes The Cake

Like several of the significant steps in Meowm’s life, she didn’t do much research before taking the plunge. A rescue for Meezers, glamorous, right? Something she could do in her spare time – did she really think she had any, working a full-time job and raising a young daughter with a hubby home weekends only? Leave it to her to jump in with both feet and – as you have read – flip flops, no boots. And yes, the sh*t was deep!

First off, we were in the rural neverlands of Virginia. To get anywhere takes forever, including Meowm’s full time job – teaching – a good hour driving the back roads to and from. This meant leaving the house at O700, which, for me, meant morning nibbles happened about 6. A bit too early for Geezer Ward retirement – I was still deep in the throws of shuteye. I didn’t dare wait long, however, for that Mamagayo, older than the wind said the doc, could eat her weight times three. Crumbs left for the rest of us if we didn’t snap to Reveille, sounded by the slobbering woofers who thought every little movement deserved announcing. Spinning through the house and Center like a tornado, Meowm had bowls filled, pans emptied and mini-bean in the car, disappearing until dinner nibbles. I’d like to say calm ensued, but in reality, chaos was only beginning.

By now you have heard about Shammy …  https://siriouslysiri.com/2022/01/27/the-lessons-of-rescue-oh-my-part-1/

He was a real whippersnapper. I think Meowm labeled him as TB#1 and that stood for TroubleMaker Extraordinaire. A wild man from the get-go, he would hunker down at the window, peering through the slats until he saw that car leave the driveway and then, well, the cat was out of the bag. Since he was such a wild man, he was over here with us Geezers instead of at the Center; I guess there was hope he would learn some manners. While I’d like to say he kept us young, he mostly kept us crazy.  People, he would have nothing to do with, but fellow felines, he loved to torment. There wasn’t a corner you could saunter around without that masked bandit making a play for the thigh and roll tackle. And the daily constitutional? Let’s just say you had to be one and done, and fast about it – otherwise, it was squirt and spurt.

Those woofers, however, thought he was the best thing since spilt milk. Actually, they didn’t care what he spilt, they were more than happy to lick it up, chew on it, swallow it – anything and everything Shammy batted to the ground, they disposed of in some form or another. Those six were in cohoots – the five dogzillas and Shammy – disasters in the making. Left the knitting out? Unraveled. That potted plant? Dirt everywhere. Pile of papers? Shredded. And the carrot cake? The one that Meowm worked on for hours getting the frosting and decorations just right? Needless to say, when four-thirty rolled around, Shammy was sucking the cream cheese from between his paws under the bed, us Geezers were innocently mid-afternoon nap, and the woofers were very busy working on who had the best ‘not-guilty’ expression.

Fortunately, our romper room times didn’t last for long – it only took Meowm one experience of falling asleep while sitting in her car at a railroad crossing to realize that something had to give. It was the students or us, and it wasn’t long before Meowm went from full time teaching to full time rescuing. As for Shammy? The beans were spilt. Caught red-pawed, he pled guilty.

Yours truly,

Howard Beakman

Shammy: Is that a guilty face or what?

Posted on

Lemon Meringue Cookies

Frosted, by Bernice Baran, scores another 5 stars with the recipe for Lemon Meringue Cookies. Two sugar cookies sandwiched together with a homemade lemon curd filling, and holding the filling in, a meringue frosting piped around the edge. Wowza. They may not look like much but trust me, one is an entire dessert in itself and is SO good.

Incredible cookies with a lemon curd filling and meringue piped on the edging, these are SO good!
Posted on

The Lessons of Rescue – Oh My! (Part 1)

It is Y2001. Siamese Rescue has been in operation for 3 years now. Oh, and what a learning experience we are having. One can never say that life here is dull. Ever watched someone on a trapeze? Up and down with a pit in their stomach, then butterflies, nervous yet excited, followed by that whoosh whoosh, back down and then up they climb again. So go our days.

There’s a bunch of us here. How many, people often ask. We lose count. Kind of like a revolving door most of the time, and you don’t bother with numbers. A few in, a few out. The home crew stays relatively steady, but the ones considered transient? So many new whiskers to twitch. Meowm and Paw do well. The cats we remember, they say. The adopters? They all look the same. I can see their point. I was never big on looks anyway. Now smells, that’s a different story. Specific looks don’t do much for us felines. Shapes, however, is another thing all together. Take Toko Thai for example. He likes tall blondes. And Annie? She likes wide people. Me? I’ll take anyone who has cheese danish.

Anyway, back to the Center. I’m never sure what to think about life at the Center. So many comings and goings. But compared with the previous digs, there is both comfort and variety.

We have two living facilities here now – the House, commonly known as the Geezer Ward, and the Rescue Center itself. Just a stone’s throw from each other, the House has the permanent residents – those of us who fit the mold of unadoptable for whatever reason. Then there’s the Rescue Center, hosting up to fifty furries at a time, all hoping for a new home. I live in the Geezer Ward.

In 1998, when Meowm opened the doors to nomad Meezers, they all stayed in the House. Meowm hadn’t quite grasped the concept of rescue and release, and the number of permanent residents increased within a few short weeks from two to six. Take Sapphire for example. She was VA0002. Her mom was moving to California and couldn’t take her. She came and visited with Meowm who did what she tends to do – rambled on and on about her idea of a rescue and all that was involved – without letting the poor lady get a word in edgewise. Hours later, the woman left, and Sapphire sprawled happily on the couch (she was happy just about anywhere provided there’s a food bowl within reach). It was only after the fact that Meowm realized she had been so busy yabbering that she had neglected to inform this lady she was going to find Sapphire a new home. And no, she had not gotten the lady’s address or forwarding number either (told you she was talking too much!) Feeling that it was not right to rehome her without the lady’s okay, Sapphire, the lump, stayed.

Who was VA0001 you might ask? No, not me I’m afraid – I waited to make my appearance until Meowm and Paw had this Rescue thing down pat (my name is Howard Beakman, and I am VA1000). Ming was the first. His family had gone through a divorce and left their trailer, and Ming, to do their own thing. By the time Ming had been found, however, he had gone so long without proper care that his glucose was off the charts. Meowm got two lessons for the price of one with him – Rescue wasn’t going to be cheap, and there weren’t always happy endings.

By the time we got to number 0003, she was getting the hang of it. JoJo, though a far cry for a Siamese, found a home not 45 minutes from here with a nice couple who weren’t allowed to leave until they promised to be on the Board of Directors – Meowm needed to create one so she could meet IRS requirements for a non-profit.

Ahh, those early lessons. The next three arrivals taught us that not every cat with a home lives comfortably, and not every cat is social. Responding to a phone call from a man whose wife had been hospitalized, it was a Meezer scavenger hunt in the wilds of the Virginia mountains. Windy roads led to what could be described as a goat path flooded by recent storms; the water cascading down the mountain sides. In sneakers and shorts, and with mini Bean (age 8) and Grandma Muddles in tow, what a picture of naivety as they were led to a sagging abandoned shed. It didn’t take a keen sense of smell to note that this would be a memorable experience. Forcing the door open, inches of cat feces blocking the way, the 6×8 room was a mass of flying fur – up the walls, across the ceiling, back down again. Other than furry ferals, the room was completely empty save some old French fry dishes with week old food. Waterbugs paddled happily in a bowl of pea green water. Any Meezers? Yes, quite a few, but it was impossible to get a count – every movement brought wild panic to their eyes as they launched like rubber band torpedoes off every surface. If you could have seen Meowm standing there with her mouth agape, carrier helplessly in hand – it was quite a sight. Last time she went anywhere questionable in shorts and flip flops, with her young daughter, elderly mother, no gloves or plan, let me tell you. I think humans call this behavior clueless.

Well anyway, after about 20 minutes of America’s Funniest Home Videos, as Meowm swooped the carrier through the air hoping one of the Meezers would land inside, one actually did. I’m not sure who was more surprised, the cat or Meowm. Luckily she thought to close the carrier door before the moment had passed, and she had it, her first real wild Siamese catch. His name was Shammy, and you’ll meet him in the next episode. https://siriouslysiri.com/2022/01/31/episode-2-shammy-takes-the-cake/

Yours Truly,

Howard Beakman

That’s me under the palm tree, soaking up the Sun.
Posted on

Integrating a New Cat (Will You Be My Friend?)

So you’re getting a new cat! How very exciting! Once upon a time, I combined households with hubby #1, bringing his cat, Broadway, over to my house and plopping her down in a room with my two cats. All three were laid back; I figured they’d sniff each other and be wonderful friends from there on in. What ensued was a fur-flinging, pee-spraying fight that lasted almost 10 years. They never got over that (WRONG) introduction and poor Broadway lived out her life in misery because we didn’t introduce them the right way. Don’t make that mistake!

Whether or not you have other animals, it is highly likely that your new cat may be a bit overwhelmed by the change of scenery, particularly if it’s past kittenhood. Cats like small places, so before bringing your new family member home, set up a room that can be the ‘safe room’ for your cat. A place to hide (under the bed is fine), food and water, and of course the litterbox are the main components. The chosen room should be a quiet one; ideally a space where you can easily spend time (even if it’s sleeping) – so a bedroom, den, study or home office works well. Make sure that the food, water and litterbox* are fairly close to wherever you suspect the cat may hide and that they don’t have to cross an enormous spanse of scary space to get to them. Ideal isolation time (if you have other animals) is 10-14 days, just in case your new cat breaks with a sniffle or a bout of loose stools from the stress of the new environment (you don’t want any existing animals to catch anything). If you do need a vet visit (and it’s always a good idea with a new family member), it’s ideal to make your appointment at or around the ten day mark, allowing you an opportunity to observe and get to know your cat. This way you can provide information on eating, drinking and litter habits to the vet. (You definitely want a vet visit in place before your cat meets any existing pets). Rushing off to the vet on day one can be done, but doesn’t allow you to provide any feedback as to how the cat is adjusting. Obviously if your cat is sickly or comes from a situation where it hasn’t been vetted, an early vet visit will be prudent.

Even if you don’t have other animals, you will know your cat is ready to explore when you walk into the safe room and your cat is standing there looking at you expectantly, as if, surely, there must be more to your home than this small space. Don’t rush this, there’s no hurry, ensuring your cat is good and comfortable with you as well as with the smells and sounds of your home is key before giving them the entire house to explore. I always liken this time to a person’s first ever visit to a large city: New York City for example. Imagine you are a country person with no experience in a metropolitan area – you could easily be overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and even smells of such a large place. For a cat, your home may be similarly overwhelming, so take it slow.

If you have other animals, you can help the integration process during the 10 days by exchanging bedding, the litterbox, even by placing the carrier your cat used out in the general population so that it can be inspected. Remember that animals and particularly cats work by smell, so providing every opportunity to smell the new member without actually interacting with them is ideal. Basically you want to wait for two things – first, existing pets appear bored by the fact there is a new addition behind closed doors, and secondly, the new pet is showing comfort within their safe space – laying on the bed, acting relaxed, interacting with you, etc.

When it’s time to integrate, depending on how many other pets you have, you may want to introduce them one at a time, rather than the entire slew, so that there is no opportunity for gang behavior. I have always been a fan of simply leaving the door to the safe room open, as if I did it by mistake, and letting nature take its course. Again, depending on the size of your home, you’re not going to do this if you live in a massive place and your new cat is spooked. You may need to gradually increase their comfort zone by closing off extraneous doors as you allow your cat the opportunity to explore the new digs.

Patience is really key. You are working here to build a long-term relationship between you and your new cat and your new cat and the existing family members, both furry and human. Cats who are overwhelmed need time to decompress – they are unlikely to want to be held, cuddled, carried around until they trust you – no kissing on that first date. If you rush things, forcing yourself or others on the cat before they are ready, establishing trust and bonding between family members is going to be so much more difficult to attain. There is no hurry – relationships are not built overnight. Failure to integrate properly often results in rivalries that cannot be overcome, as was true for poor Broadway. She spent her entire life tormented by the other cats in the household and, in hindsight, would have been a much happier cat if we had found her a quieter home. But that’s a blog entry for another time.

Building a strong relationship between cats takes time - just as it does with humans. Patience is key.
Kokomo and Gummy became good friends, but it took some time

*Cats should eat and drink within the first 48 hours of getting home. Remember that production in the litterbox means something is going in. If they are so frightened they are not eating or drinking, it’s time for a vet visit asap.

Posted on

Orange Chocolate Scones

Definitely a five star bake, and pretty easy at that. This recipe came from Sarah Kieffer’s The Vanilla Bean Baking Book (highly recommend), pg. 39. With the exception of an orange and maybe the bittersweet chocolate, it has ingredients probably sitting in your baking pantry. It does require a little dough rolling but minimal; also ten minutes in the freezer at one point. It made 8, next time I might cut them smaller and double the amount. Just delicious!!!

Posted on

Becoming Mrs. Lewis

What a great story. I loved this because: a), the writing. Very well written with the description and the dialogue. b) the story – a quirky hard to believe story that is c) historical fiction which is just plain fun and my favorite when you are reading about something that really happened and has clearly been well researched. Great book, great job.

Posted on

Teyla’s Tail

It was 2004 and the Siamese Rescue Center (SCRC) had been in existence for six years. Initially a small Center in Virginia where all the cats were housed, SCRC had by this time expanded to numerous East Coast states, thanks to a myriad of fantastic volunteers who stepped up to help in a variety of ways. Whether it was pulling cats from a shelter, fostering them until they found a home, transporting them to that home, or interviewing applicants, SCRC was impacting the eastern third of the US, evaluating, rehabilitating and placing cats in homes throughout 15 states.

Enter Teyla.

Teyla as a kitten

Teyla came into our program in the Florida area and was fostered by a vet, a wonderful woman who not only vetted cats for us, but helped in many of the other ways listed above. Found as a stray kitten, she was adopted by an older couple after only a month in the program.

Fast forward to 2017; Teyla was 13 years old. The husband had passed away and the wife was entering a nursing home and was no longer able to care for Teyla. Without anyone to take her, SCRC’s safety net was activated and Teyla was brought back into the rescue program so that we could work our placement magic once more.

Teyla went to stay with one of our experienced foster moms, Rinn, where she could have a room to herself as she adjusted to a new environment. Having been an only cat her entire life, we knew it would take her some time to become accustomed to rescue life, and finding a foster spot for her where she didn’t need to be caged and could be housed by herself was key. Over the next 280 days Rinn worked hard with Teyla, but she was one angry mess. Swatting and hissing, she wanted no part of humans, let alone other animals. All possible medical causes for her anger were checked; Teyla just was a very unhappy camper at having lost her home and family.

After 9 months with Rinn, we decided that a change of venue might help the situation, and brought her here to the Center. Experience had shown us that if a foster cat was not doing well after a significant period of time with one foster, changing locations sometimes did the trick. In January of 2018 Teyla began her extended stay here at the Center. She was given an entire bank of cages (nine individual cubbies that connected with each other) where she had the option to stay sequestered if she wanted to be by herself. At the same time, one door was always open so that she could come out and interact if she felt like it. While it was clear she was not keen on other cats, the room was large, the population was small, and no one bothered her. She remained hissy and swatty, but by late summer I was able to get in several very quick head scritches when I put down her tray of wet food. I had to withdraw my hand quickly, however, or blood would be drawn.  Progress was frustratingly slow. Teyla remained uninterested in making friends with humans or cats, and maintained what I would term a ‘semi-feral’ state of mind. In the 20+ years of having rescue cats, she was by far the angriest cat we had seen.

Teyla at the Rescue Center

January of 2019 came around. Teyla had now been back with Siamese Rescue for 573 days and the progress was minimal. She certainly did not fall into the category of adoptable. It was time for another move, and this time we wondered whether she was really best suited for a sanctuary – a situation where she could live out her life without human interaction (unless she wanted it). The down side of sanctuary living was she would be around a lot of other cats. It was not ideal, but given we were making so little progress, the option had to be considered.

And then along came Chelsea, a cat whisperer. Chelsea had buckets of rescue experience and had been one of our fosters for quite some time. While she had a houseful of cats, she did have an empty finished basement where Teyla could stay. Certainly a better option than a sanctuary if she was willing to give Teyla a try. Why not, what could it hurt, she thought. We readily agreed.

From there, the progress was impressive:

Month one – Teyla sniffs hands but bats if Chelsea tries to pet her.

Month two – Teyla accepts pets on head, but gives a smack if you try to touch her body.

Month three – She is sleeping next to Chelsea when Chelsea sleeps in the basement.

Month six – Teyla can be picked up and moved, but will still smack unless she initiates the contact first.

Month seven – Teyla becomes a lap sitter.

And then, and continuing into present day, take a look at this picture. You just never know. It has to be the right situation – the right person, the right environment, and a good dose of time. But even those cats with a face of trauma https://siriouslysiri.com/2022/01/12/the-face-of-trauma, if you can find the magic scenario, and you can wait them out, their heart just may heal.

Teyla 2021, photo courtesy of Chelsea Willis
Posted on

The Forest of Vanishing Stars

One of my newly preferred authors, The Forest of Vanishing Stars by Kristin Harmel is a solid coming of age story set during WWII, loosely based on the families of Jews that hid in the Eastern European forests during the Nazi occupation and how they survived the challenges. While it took me a little while to get engrossed in the story, once the premise was established it was a book I couldn’t put down with both a good twist and some good opportunities to reflect on what’s important and who your family is. Five stars for the Forest of Vanishing Stars.

Posted on

Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake

You know, I wasn’t going to give this a five star rating until day 2. NOW it’s five star. Don’t get me wrong, I love peanut butter, so much that I eat it every day for breakfast. But I rarely bake with peanut butter – no idea why not, it’s just not been a popular ingredient in my recipe repertoire. But this cake, day two, wow. And day one was not too shabby.

I am not finding it on her website, but it came from her cookbook, Sally’s Baking Addiction (pg 73). This is a dense but delicious peanut butter cake that is one layer and doesn’t rise much, topped with a very thick, very fudge-like chocolate frosting (the recipe makes more than you need for the cake, so you end up with some yummy leftover to use on something else). You do have to be careful not to overcook the cake (pay attention to her note to cover the cake half way through the baking so it doesn’t brown too much); I also needed 8-9 TB of heavy cream in the frosting vs. her 6TB. Use a good quality cocoa powder (note, I recently learned that Dutch Processed Cocoa and Natural Cocoa are totally different and really not interchangeable in recipes, although I’m sure I’ve done it before) – good article at https://www.epicurious.com/ingredients/types-of-cocoa-powder-recipes-article. Like I said, day 2 is amazing. (Next time I wouldn’t grid the drizzled peanut butter and simply stripe it I think).

Amazingly delicious dark chocolate peanut butter cake thanks to Sally's Baking Addiction
Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake
Posted on

The Face of Trauma

Sammi! SAMMI! Come out from under that bed! Honestly, Sam, enough is enough. We’ve been through the same thing every day for the month and a half you’ve been here. It’s not going to get any better if you stay hidden 24/7. You really must get a hold of yourself.

Sammi was not an easy one. As a matter of fact, in all the residents we’d had here, she was one of the toughest nuts to crack. Couldn’t get her to open up one bit, could barely get her to share a snack. And look you right in the eyes? Forget it. Always staring away, eyes awash with terror.  Fled if you approached.  Daily therapy sessions were getting us nowhere. This gal was going to be here for the long haul.

Sammmm. It’s okay, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Honestly. It’s just that, well, I’m so frustrated. We walk down this path every day. Nothing changes. It’s still just me, trying to be your bud, and you’re so frightened of it all. Try to relax. Just give it a shot. You don’t even have to look me in the eyes, you can stay curled up in your ball with your eyes tight shut if you like. But talk to me. Tell me what’s up – or down – or any which way for that matter.

I was met with the same thing as yesterday – the day before – and the day before that. Every muscle tensed – ready to flee at a second’s notice. Yet I thought I saw a twitch – or was it just wishful thinking?

Come on, Sam. Start anywhere. Tell me about the day you were born. Your first home. Can you remember that far back?

Silence. But another twitch.

What about your parents? What were they like? I crouched down and peered under the bed, only to be met by the largest, saddest puddles of blue water I’d ever seen. My heart tore without having heard a word.

Sam? I shifted my bony hips into a more comfortable resting position. Sam? I’m here, I won’t hurt you. Share with me. I want to be your friend, but I can’t do it without knowing more about you.

And then it came. The Niagara Falls of stories. And the blue puddles spilled everywhere.

I was an unplanned pregnancy, resulting in an unwanted birth and then just plain unwanted. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my second go round was an after-thought, without much, if any, pre-thought, for I was one of many. Too many in a small place, and bottom of the totem pole. I spent my entire life, hour after hour, waiting, watching, perched carefully where I could see in all directions, for you never knew. You always had to watch your back – and your front for that matter. Unpredictable was putting it mildly. One moment all would be quiet, and you’d take a deep breath. The next, out of nowhere, screeches and screams, a blur of voices and bodies, of blood and urine, and things grew dim – hidden under the bed or in the closet, ears and eyes covered, searching for that internal safety net. Blankets over my body, eyes tightly shut, ears scrunched closed, I could be safe; safe from the unpredictability and irrationality of the world. There it was just me, and I could take care of me, I just had to stay strong, had to have faith in myself, had to keep protected. Never let anyone in, never trust anyone, for even those closest to you could erupt without a moment’s notice. You’re born alone, you die alone, you’ve got to watch your own back.

Flying through the air. Voices. Objects. Terrified. Hunkered down, blankets over my head. Can’t see you, you can’t see me. No one will know. Closed up inside, safe, safe inside my head. Don’t let anyone in. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t listen. Quiet. The quietest breaths possible. Not a move. Stay very still. No emotion. Nothing helped. Just shut down – shut tight – keep safe. Safe. Hold on for dear life. They’ll find you if you’re not careful. Better move. Find another spot. In the closet, in the very back. It’s dark. That’s good. Secret. Safe. Holding tight. But have to pee. Bathroom is far. Far across the chaotic terrain. Can’t hold it. Got to go. Will just go here. Shhhh. Don’t tell. Got to move. Wet and uncomfortable. Under the bed, quick, dash! Look out! They saw! They’re in pursuit. Angry, raging, grasping, ripping at you. Hold on, dig in, oh please please PLEASE! Stop! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, don’t hurt me, please! Curl tight in a ball. Protection, protection. The pain. The knives, they slash, they cut. Over and over I somersault. And then. The ground shakes. Heavy boots. Harsh voices, yelling, glass exploding by my head, shiny glistening fragmented spikes snowing everywhere. They disappear. I meld to the bedpost, becoming one, searching deep inside for the path of safety – the one that takes me away. There it is, I can just see it. Close those eyes and ears tight, sink down, down deep, look, look hard, reach out, you can just grasp it if you try. Reach, reach, and hold tight, don’t move, don’t breathe, it’s inside, you’re alright, you’re alright, hold on, you’re going to be alright…..