If Pets Could Talk

By Jackie Kellum

Does your pet have ‘whisker stress?’ Yes, there is such a thing.

Whiskers serve a purpose for both cats and dogs. Whiskers are not like hair as they are thicker at the base and narrow toward the end and are three times deeper than hair follicles. They are located generally around the nose, eyes and under the chin, on the forelegs, near the ears, and they are in place at birth. The placement of dog whiskers tends to vary from one individual to another in an irregular and unpredictable manner. Whiskers follicles are full of blood vessels and nerves.

Human’s sense of touch is in their fingers, while cats and dogs touch with their whiskers. They can sense distance, space and feel vibrations, much like antennas on insects. This is why if your pet is wearing a ‘cone’ after surgery it may act disoriented, as he cannot ‘see’ as well without use of his whiskers. These ‘tactile hairs,’ do not feel anything, they transmit information to sensory cells when they detect objects or movement. If air moves against them or an object touches the whisker, it stimulates the hair follicle nerves. The nerves are complex and can detect the shape, size and speed of near-by objects. When your pet is resting, so are his whiskers; when he is alert, they are too. A happy-curious pet will elevate the whiskers above his eyes, giving a wide-eyed alert expression. If the pet feels threatened he will flair the whiskers on the muzzle area and direct them toward the perceived threat.

The theory of ‘whisker stress’ sounds reasonable if you are constantly touching a highly sensitive spot anywhere on the body. This fulltime alert system can fatigue the area, and in some cases, even cause stress. Both dogs and cats utilize their whiskers in a similar way, but dogs use their whiskers in a less pronounced way.

Dogs and cats with reduced vision are especially dependent on their whiskers. Dogs are known for their great sense of smell and hearing. However, canine vision is better at a distance and can have difficulty focusing on objects up close. The use of whiskers helps them “see” things that lie right under their noses by constantly sending information to their brain. As a dog approaches something in his path, he stirs up air currents that bounce back when they hit solid objects. Whiskers detect very faint vibrations caused by these changes in air currents and act like radar detectors. When a dog approaches a narrow space, his whiskers help him determine if he can fit through the space. When at the groomer, be sure to mention that you do not want your dog’s whiskers touched, because this may decrease his special awareness and confuse him.

No one has done a study on ‘whisker fatigue’ but it has been observed and reported more by cat owners than dog owners. These are signs that your cat may be experiencing ‘whisker fatigue’: refusal to eat or drink from their usual dishes, pacing in front of the food bowls and meowing like something is wrong or pawing at their food trying to pull it from the bowl and put it on the floor to eat. If you observe this, a possible solution: just change your cat’s food and water bowls to a wider flatter bowl with plenty of space for the whiskers on both sides of their face so their whiskers do not touch both sides of the bowl. Because issues with eating can also be signs of disease or other health problems, always rule these out by taking your cat to the Vet.

Jackie Kellum

By Rosamund Levy

My husband Michael and I have been boating together since before

we were married. For many years we lived on the shores of Lake Ontario, in and around Toronto, but kept our boat several hours drive north, on Georgian Bay. For those who may be geographically challenged, Georgian Bay is a large body of water attached to Lake Huron, carved out of the bedrock by glaciers millions of years ago. It is rugged, wild, and incredibly beautiful. Our favourite playground was called 30,000 Islands, for good reason, a stretch of coastline filled with bays and inlets, and places with names like Frying Pan Island, Wreck Island, Echo Bay, San Souci (which means without care) or in today’s vernacular No Worries.

Otters and fishers play in the shallow shoreline areas, and beavers change the landscape with their lodges and dams. Sightings of deer, moose and bears are not uncommon. Rattlesnakes keep everyone on their toes, and the loons sing their mournful song while the ospreys dive for fish.

The boating season is short up there, from April or May when the ice melts, to the following October or November, when winter begins to set in again. But those summer months are glorious, and we spent as much time there as we could, forming lifelong friendships with other folks at the marina where we kept our boat.

One particular summer, about 8 years ago, the marina was plagued by an unusual number of raccoons. We had all had our own encounters with the sneaky little thieves getting onboard and helping themselves to whatever goodies they could find, often with the boat owners present at the time of the crime, watching open mouthed as they were robbed of fruit, bread, snacks...anything edible. They can unzip zippers, undo snaps, open latches, and squeeze through very small spaces. They’re smart, and brazen, and pretty much fearless. They can cause thousands of dollars of damage if they decide to settle in for any length of time. And, if cornered, can become quite vicious.

One Friday evening, Michael and I had just arrived at the marina, and loaded our weekend supplies onto the boat. One of our dock mates, being a good neighbour, had decided to open up his buddy’s boat across from us in preparation for their arrival. He climbed aboard, opened the canvas bridge enclosure, and went below to open up some of the windows. He came back out again very quickly, saying there was dog food strewn across the floor, and a raccoon asleep in the forward cabin. A very big raccoon.

Word quickly spread from boat to boat, and of course everyone had an opinion on what to do next, but the consensus was to wake it up somehow so it would leave the boat. We made sure kids and pets were safely out of the way, should the beast make a run for it along the dock. A few of the guys started to bang on the hull. No reaction. Someone suggested firing an air horn through the open porthole. Still no movement from Rocky.

The crowd was growing by this time, shouting suggestions and encouragement, all liberally fueled by Friday night cocktails. Finally, three brave souls (Michael included) decided to risk the dangers of a cranky raccoon. Armed with a fishing net and a chair cushion (don’t ask) they were going in. It got very quiet on the dock as the rest of us waited with baited breath and drinks in hand.

Suddenly, from on board, a flurry of activity, and a cheer from the three hunters as they appeared topside, the vanquished marauder displayed for all to see. His limp body was held aloft in triumph for us all to admire. There was moment of shocked silence from the spectators on the dock. We never thought they’d actually kill it. Just shoo it away. And then we began to realize what had really happened, and shouts of laughter filled the air.

So our good neighbour, who only wanted to do his friend a favour, ended up the talk of the marina, and the butt of more than one friendly joke, for organizing a hunting party for a stuffed toy raccoon.

And as for Rocky—well, he has moved up in the world, to a place of pride on the bridge!

But the question remains—how did all that dog food get scattered around inside the boat, and who, or what, is to blame? How did it get in? And, most importantly, will it come back? Probably—now that it has a friend on board!