The Artemis Project Helping Homeless Animals in NYC Winter Newsletter 2012
Your support has made the difference for many animals since the Artemis Project began in 2001. We work exclusively with Lincoln Square Veterinary Hospital (LSVH) at 140 W. 67th St. in Manhattan. By donating to Artemis, you have helped to bring joy to many people and a fresh start for hundreds of stray and abused animals. Thank you for your kindness. Artemis volunteers wish you and yours—both two- and four-legged—a wonderful holiday season and Happy New Year. —Dorian Rence
Animal Adventures I never cease to be amazed at the many ways animals affect people’s lives. Animal people appreciate how much their lives are enriched by their pets. Most, however, don’t know the steadily mounting data showing how animals influence people’s mental and physical health. A quick search on the internet showed some surprising statistics about their effects on heart health. The American Stroke Association presented a study of 4,500 patients showing cat owners have a 40% lower risk of death after heart attack and a 30% less risk of dying from other heart problems such as heart failure, heart disease, and stroke. It’s known that interacting with animals decreases stress hormones and blood pressure. It increases levels of oxytocin, a hormone making us happier and more trusting. It’s not just older people that derive health benefits. Children raised around animals have a lower instance of developing allergies and asthma. The Los Angeles Times reports “…there’s a growing body of evidence that exposure to pets early in life can stimulate the immune system to do a better job of fighting off infection.” The journal Pediatrics reports that kids who live with pets during their first year of life are more likely to be healthier than their non-pet counterparts. Of course kids can learn valuable life lessons as well. They learn the responsibilities of pet ownership. They observe the natural cycle of life. And who doesn’t need another friend, especially one that waits eagerly to greet you after school? Then there are the service animals. Their role is constantly expanding. Seeing-eye dogs have been around for years. Now dogs are being used to signal people with uncontrolled epilepsy that they’re about to have a seizure. Increasingly, animals are being used for therapy. Animals that have been traumatized are being paired with handicapped or traumatized people—veterans with PTSD, autistic children, addicts. It’s a win-win combination. Both sides regain the trust necessary to rebuild life. Perhaps because I recently turned 60 years old (YIKES!), I’ve been thinking a lot about the truly amazing animals I’ve been privileged to include in my own family. They have enriched my life immeasurably. In most cases, they were every bit as interesting as the people. Here’s a sampling: As a teenager, my sister barrel-raced in rodeos on a quarter horse named Joe. When in the natural cycle of things she left home, Joe went into semi-retirement and my dad took care of him on the farm.
Daddy and Joe (on left) Joe and my dad had several things in common. They were both mesomorphs, tending towards fat. They both loved junk food. Neither could stand anything tight around their middles. Both had their ornery side. My father was ornery in the way most dads can be. Joe, however, showed true genius in this area. For instance, there was nothing that offended Joe more than the thought of being ridden. It was a humiliation he simply would not endure. He bit, crow-hopped, bucked, and reared. If after all that the rider remained seated, Joe changed tactics. He tried to rub you off against a tree or fence. He ran away with you. If all else failed, Joe would simply sit down in the middle of the road. He was on strike. The only way to get him moving was to drive the pickup behind him and gently push him forward onto all four feet. Oh well, there’s more to a horse than mere transportation. My dad introduced Joe to the gastronomic delights of junk food. Generally speaking, horses are herbivores. Daddy taught Joe to chow down hot dogs. He learned to swill Fanta orange soda from the bottle. Watching Joe eat peanut butter was funnier than a Jerry Lewis movie. Snickers became a staple. Of course, such fun comes with a price. Both Joe and my dad packed on the pounds. In later years, neither one would abide anything tight around their middles. Daddy took to wearing overalls with elastic waistbands. Initially the waistbands puckered, but soon they were stretched taut. As for Joe, occasionally we would still saddle him up. As we tightened the cinch, old Joe would swallow air until his belly got distended. What we presumed was secure soon proved anything but. Joe, quite literally, left us in the dust. (cont.)
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Animal Adventures (cont.)
Joe and Daddy continued to live large. However, as Joe neared 30 years old, daddy began receiving more and more calls from farm neighbors during blizzards. “Richard, old Joe is down again.” This was serious. Horses get pneumonia if they can’t stand. Daddy would then drive for hours over nearly impassable roads to get to the farm to aid his friend. He would rig up space heaters in the shed, massage Joe’s half-frozen legs, and feed him warmed mash as the bitter north winds howled. One sad winter’s day, old Joe died. A horse is a large animal. Loving junk food, Joe was especially large. How do you bury a 1,200-pound animal in the frozen earth? The glue factory called. They were eager to take the carcass and pay for the privilege. But of course, Daddy didn’t see it that way. He did something that moves me to this day. He went out in the bitter cold every day for a week, building fires to thaw out the ground, inch-by-inch, so he could dig a grave for his friend. Old Joe was at last laid to rest under the pastures he loved to graze, and with the extraordinary help of his best friend, my dad. Growing up in a family like that, how could I not love animals? I just had a space problem. No horses for me in Manhattan. I concentrated on cats. I got my first cats in the early 1980s and I found myself on a steep learning curve. I was used to animals that at least pretended to want my approval. Let’s face it, most cats don’t care. At first, I found this offputting. I’ve since come to embrace it. Cats are refreshingly honest. They live independently and freely. Their ways are mysterious, perceptive, and intuitive. Any cat owner knows how cats tend to disappear when it’s time to go to the vet. I have to deal with their ESP often, since I frequently go on tour. My cats are never happy about it. Even though I never pack or even look at my suitcase until the day of departure, they always seem to know. They begin to give me the cold shoulder, sitting with their backs to me and rebuffing all my guilt-ridden attentions. Their reactions to my return can also surprise me. There was the time I returned, set down my suitcase, and thoughtlessly went out to a restaurant. I came back to a floor covered in cat urine. It was hard to get mad. From the cat’s standpoint, I’d abandoned her and not even greeted her properly when I returned. It never happened again. I’d learned my lesson.
Aeschylus the first movement. Whenever I got to that page they would begin to meow piteously and flee the room. It wasn’t very flattering, but it did make me laugh. Aeschylus was the cat that touched me the most. Aeschylus was an old battle-scarred tomcat that began hanging around my backyard. He had multiple injuries from his nightly fights. One wound on his leg was especially severe. Every morning I would go out to see if Aeschylus had survived the night. And every morning my gladiator cat had more wounds. He was losing, and badly. I started putting out food for him. I set a trap, but he refused to go in. I left a trail of sardines that led to an open crate. Aeschylus would eat at a distance he judged to be safe, but he refused to come close to either me or the crate. I felt hopeless. Aeschylus was not going to last much longer. Out of ideas, one night I had a heart-to-heart talk. “Listen, cat. I can’t be the only one working here. You’ve got to make a decision—life with me, or no life at all.”
Then there are things that my cats do that are inexplicable. I had two elderly sister cats, Min and Caitlin. Min eventually went blind. I was amazed she got around as well as she did. However, when Caitlin died Min began running into walls. I realized she’d been using her sister as a seeing-eye cat.
The next night, I sat out by the open crate. I had zero expectations. I didn’t even bring food. Aeschylus approached. He calmly walked past me and into the crate. I couldn’t believe it! I slammed the door shut. There he sat—no yowls, no spits. Aeschylus had clearly made his decision.
Min and Caitlin also read music, or so it seemed to me. The Bartók Viola Concerto has an extremely high passage midway down a page in
The next move was mine. I took him to the vet. He was checked out and the news was not good. His leg wound was so extensive it would probably never heal properly. Aeschylus tested positive for FIV (the feline version of HIV) and he was clearly feral.
Min and Caitlin
Aeschylus had trusted me, so I felt honor-bound to make every effort to give him a good life. The vet tried, several times, to repair the leg wound. Though it was never pretty, his wound did finally heal. As for dealing with his FIV, I couldn’t risk exposing my other cats to him. Aeschylus got his own bedroom. By far the biggest obstacle to our life together was his feralness. Our relationship started out rocky. He gave me the worst bite of my life. Aeschylus had the massive head of an intact male. His jaws were studded with combat-tested teeth. Those teeth clamped down on my leg. My shin bore their imprint for quite a while.
Animal Adventures (cont.)
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Weeks went by. We continued to be wary of one another. Gradually, we built up trust. I began sleeping (wearing safety glasses) in his room to get him used to my smell. I remember the night I woke up and he was sleeping close to my leg. I was elated. In the end, Aeschylus became my favorite cat. He was never a pet. He was something more. He was a friend and my equal. Building that friendship required both of us to take risks. It was one of the most moving experiences of my life. I find it remarkable that agencies like NASA devote time and energy to finding other intelligent life forms in the universe. I don’t begrudge them the search. However, if they would just open their eyes, they would discover that we’re surrounded by intelligent life forms right here on earth. We call them animals. I call them family. I’ve had the privilege of living with them for 60 years now.
Artemis has helped hundreds of animals since 2001. We’re different from other rescue organizations. We don’t turn cats away on the basis of age or health. We see every animal’s life as precious.
• Delilah’s owner surrendered her to a kill shelter. She wanted to trade her in for a kitten. At 14 years-old, Delilah stood no chance of surviving in that shelter. Artemis rescued her. One of our volunteers adopted her. Delilah’s golden years are now love-filled.
• Moshe Dayan was a one-eyed geriatric cat dumped on a street. He used up his nine lives. Through Artemis, he got medications and surgeries that gave him a tenth life in a loving home with a new best friend.
• York would have fallen through the cracks in many facilities. They would have waited until her kittens were weaned and adopted them out. York was then expendable. Please support The Artemis Project this holiday season. And if you’re looking for an animal adventure of your own, come see our cats currently up for adoption.
Adoptable Animals Beautiful York The eyes have it! York is a big-eyed beauty with a delicate face and silky white and gray coat. She was found in a Bronx park over the summer, struggling to care for five tiny kittens. Though her babies have all been adopted, their mom is still waiting for someone to take her home. A natural "meeter & greeter," York is temporarily working in reception at a Manhattan vet clinic. She's happy to see everyone who comes through the door, two- and four-footed, and especially thrilled when she can coax a visitor to give her a chin rub. Earnest Ebeneezer Ebeneezer—along with his sister Noelle, who has been adopted—was TNR’d by an NYPD officer at a Harlem precinct. The officer thought that this pair was friendly enough to have a chance of getting a home. While he sometimes has his guard up, Ebeneezer is all bark and no bite. Someone who can coax him out of his shyness will surely be rewarded!
York Gorgeous George George is a handsome marmalade of many interests. He loves being active and throws himself happily into playtime, but also enjoys settling down for some TLC. More and more, he's warming up to one-on-one time with familiar friends. George was a "teenager" when he and his siblings were removed from a large colony in the northern part of Manhattan (his mother produced 20 kittens the year he was born; she has since been TNR'd). It took months of gentle handling to overcome his initial shyness. Now one-year-old, neutered and vibrantly healthy, George grows a little more trusting each day. He's looking for a patient someone who'll give him the time he needs to feel completely secure. His potential as a loving companion is boundless! Will you be George's best friend for life?
George
Ebeneezer Sweet Solomon Solomon is a very affectionate two year old male who was rescued from a deli in the Bronx where they kept him locked in the basement with the garbage. He has patiently spent the last couple of months in isolation at LSVH while being treated for ringworm. His rough start in life hasn't dampened his spirits though. He has the most precious heart & wants nothing more then to be your best friend. For the person looking for a lap cat - Solomon is your guy!
Solomon
To find out more about these animals, e-mail info@artemisprojectnyc.org or visit artemis.petfinder.com
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