Cat Food Recall

Yesterday, WellPet, the maker of Wellness brand pet foods issued a recall of its Wellness canned cat food. The recall text is here in its entirety:

WELLPET LLC VOLUNTARILY RECALLS CERTAIN LOTS OF CANNED CAT FOOD No Other Lots, Products or Dates Affected

Tewksbury, MA (February 28, 2011) - WellPet LLC announced today it has voluntarily recalled certain lots of Wellness® canned cat food.

While recent laboratory testing found that most lots of Wellness canned cat food that were tested contain sufficient amounts of thiamine (also known as Vitamin B1), some of the lots listed below might contain less than adequate levels of thiamine. However, out of an abundance of caution, WellPet has decided. to recall all of the lots listed below.

Cats fed only the affected lots for several weeks may be at risk for developing a thiamine deficiency. Thiamine is essential for cats. Symptoms of deficiency displayed by an affected cat can be gastrointestinal or neurological in nature.

Early signs of thiamine deficiency may include decreased appetite, salivation, vomiting, and weight loss. In advanced cases, neurologic signs can develop, which may include ventriflexion (bending towards the floor) of the neck, wobbly walking, circling, falling, and seizures. If your cat has consumed the recalled lots and has these symptoms, please contact your veterinarian. If treated promptly, thiamine deficiency is typically reversible.

The lots involved in this voluntary recall are:

• Wellness Canned Cat (all flavors and sizes) with best by dates from 14APR 13 through 30SEP13
• Wellness Canned Cat Chicken & Herring (all sizes) with 10NOV13 or 17NOV13 best buy dates.

Consumers who still have cans of cat food from these lots should stop feeding them to their cats and call us at (877) 227-9587 Monday through Friday, 9:00 am– 7:00 pm Eastern Time. Consumers with further questions should visit our website at www.wellnesspetfood.com or call us at this same number.

WellPet discovered the lower thiamine levels during independent testing conducted together with the U.S. Food and Drug Administration in response to a single, isolated consumer complaint received by the FDA. Although WellPet has received no other reports concerning thiamine in its products, WellPet has taken additional steps with the manufacturer to ensure that this does not happen again.

"As a pet parent myself, I'm concerned for the health and welfare of all pets, and as a company we are committed to delivering the most nutritious natural pet food," said Tim Callahan, chief executive officer of WellPet, the maker of Wellness products. "Even though the chance of a cat developing a thiamine deficiency is extremely remote, we are voluntarily recalling all of these lots of our canned cat food as an extra precaution."

The foods being recalled are safe - there's no contamination - they may simply be low on a B vitamin. If you are feeding Wellness canned to your pets, you can return unopened cans for replacement. I had three cases of food from the recalled lot, but decided to keep them since there's really nothing wrong with the food. B vitamins are safe and simple to supplement, so I'm going that route - adding a low dose veterinary multi-vitamin to the food. B vitamins are water soluable, so any excess is washed out of the body. Which means added load on the kidneys, so if you have a cat in renal failure, check with your vet before adding anything to your feline's food.  

Copernicus

 Eight years ago today, Copernicus died. He was eight years old. Sure, he'd been sick, but it had been with something that shouldn't have killed him. He'd developed a urinary blockage, something that can and will kill a male cat if it isn't caught and treated, but we were right on top of it the whole time. I caught it early, had him treated, and when he kept blocking, we opted for surgery. Aspiration pneumonia ultimately took him. 

It's tough to explain why this was such a devastating event in our lives. Copernicus and his sister, Erie, were the first cats my husband and I adopted after we were married. He was our number one furry son. (Erie, at 16, is arthritic, stone deaf and very opinionated, but she is still very much with us. She demands belly rubs every single night.)

He adored me. I'd never been adored before. Not quite like that. Loved? Oh, yes. Absolutely and unconditionally, by parents, grandparents and my husband alike. But they never trusted me to stop the rain. They never believed that I had the power to cause earthquakes...well...DH seems to think volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and destruction on a massive scale is my fault, but that's another story involving past lives. No, when blessedly minor earthquakes struck the Puget Sound region, Copernicus would come find me, where ever I was braced, and level an accusing, exasperated glare upon my person. "Mom. Knock it off."  I was his favorite ladder. His favorite pillow and his favorite bed. We suspected, once or twice, that he resented the claim the DH seemed to have on my affections, too. That was a little weird.

Copernicus purred simply because I entered the room. In the evenings, as we would get ready for bed, he'd come pull the towels off the towel rack, giving them a precise, practiced yank that flipped one towel beneath him while the other settled over the top of him. I was expected to lean over the breathing bundle of towels and whisper sweet nothings to him. The bundle of towels would rumble with pleased purring. That same purr lulled me to sleep each night as he snuggled in beside me, his head pillowed on my arm.

For the eight short years I had Copernicus, I walked on water. We had rough days, days where we hurt one another's feelings. But it didn't ever seem to dent his esteem for me. Maybe it goes without saying that I thought he was the handsomest, sweetest, bravest, and cleverest of felines. He seemed to think he was, too, until he started feeling so poorly. After his passing, other cats entered our lives and our home. They, too, are sweet, beautiful, brave, clever, loved and spoiled. But Copernicus was our number one feline son.

So after years of planning, saving and scrimping to buy our dream boat, when we finally signed the papers on a catamaran of our own, there wasn't much discussion about what it should be named. After I told DH in no uncertain terms that we would NOT be naming the boat Nostromo after the ship from the movie Alien...

Axe Murderers

Faye (who might could have been an axe murderer, herself) read my post entitled "The Internet is Full of Axe Murderers" and pointed out that I'd never quite explained the whole axe murderer thing. Any new technology brings with it a pre-existing set of baggage - like cell phones and brain cancer. You know that one, right? Use youre cell phone too much and it'll microwave your brain, giving you cancer. (Research has found no such link, but studies are ongoing and the story changes every other week. So use your cell phone at your own risk.) When the internet was bright, shiny, and new, it inspired fear. The most obvious fear was over 'meeting people you couldn't see'.

You'd get to chatting with someone on the internet - via email, IM or some other old-fashioned mode of communication. The person is nice. You suggest getting together in person for coffee. Your family is horrified. "Make sure you meet in a public place! I mean, you never know! This person could be an axe murderer!" No. I have no clue why someone would believe that people on the internet were supposed to be more predisposed to violent crime than, say, that creepy guy who lives at the end of your block. Obviously, what with the Craigslist murders and whatnot, there are complete nutjobs out there in the world determined to do damage anywhere, anyway possible. But that was true long before the internet came along. So.

The amusing aside is this. I'm a member of an international cat fancier's loop called Feline-L. The people on the list are some of the most helpful, friendly and caring people you'd ever care to know. Most of us have never met in person. So, one year, a group of Feliners decided to have a Gather. A location was found, hotel secured, and Feliners from all over the US and Canada descended. We emailed all sorts of jokes about axe murderers met over the internet.

The Gathering went off beautifully. People met, mingled, chatted, and ate Kitty Litter Cake. http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Kitty-Litter-Cake/Detail.aspx. For those of us who couldn't make the actual physical event, the participants set a time and sent a URL for a webcam. They'd group up and wave to those of us watching.  At the appointed time, many of us sat at our computers, glued to the screen as people we hadn't yet met began assembling in front of the camera. Finally, there they all were. And was that . . ? Yes, indeed. It was. An axe. One of the women had brought it, because, as she said, "No Gathering of Internet Axe Murderers would have been complete without the axe".  Okay. The story loses something in the telling. It was funny. You'll just have to trust me. Because of course I'm on the internet and you can believe everything you read here.

In Pursuit of Warm, Sunny Adventure

We returned from a week cruising the western Caribbean. It's apparently been a messed up cruising year what with one cold front after another slamming through the region. When we arrived in Tampa, the storm front that had brought snow to Atlanta had just moved past. Tampa was chilly. But we got lucky. Our first port of call was Key West. It was deliciously warm and humid. DH and I walked around a bit, found the Civil War era fort, toured that and then walked back to a bar set up on a dock over the water. Directly across from us, anchored between a couple of mangrove thickets was an early version of our boat - a Gemini 3200. With more time in Key West, we might have been able to connect with our fellow Gemini owner, but the cruise ship waits for no one. So we boarded just as a major rain squall rolled in and unloaded. We spent a glorious day at sea in bright sunshine and warm temperatures. Belize was next. We cruised into Belize City and went on a tour of a cavern system that the Maya had once used as a sacrificial site. The photo above left is the ceremonial entrance of the cave. It's called the Dragon's Mouth. Forgive the lack of focus and definition - cell phone photo. Because of the tight passages in the cave, the guides weren't keen on letting me take the good camera in to be smashed against the stone. The cavern system is active. It is still forming. It is also still an active archeological dig. We were allowed only in the top two tiers of the cave where agricultural sacrifices were performed - petitions for a fruitful harvest and such. These rites did include blood as needed, but required little more than a few drops from the petitioners. In the deeper levels of the caves, human sacrifices were made. One of the reasons we weren't allowed into those areas. I was fine with that. I had no wish to descend that far into the Mayan Underwold, much less walk the same path a sacrificial victim had once walked. No, thank you. My one regret: I couldn't get a photo of the bats clinging to the roof of the cave. They were cute (fruit and insect bats, not vampire bats - which Belize has.)

Then we were on to Honduras. We had a gorgeous full moon that night and one of those sunrises that takes your breath away. I'd gotten up early to watch the moon set and the sun rise. As a result, I was witness to the fact that no matter how experienced the captain, docking is just a pain in the butt. We were aboard the Holland America ship Ryndam. It's one of the smaller vessels in the fleet. Still, the channel into the the docks in Roatan was only slightly wider than the ship itself. And the captain had to back in. All was going well. He had the boat lined up with the middle of the channel. The moon set. The sun rose. A 20 knot wind roared up out of no where. We were broadside to it. In an instant, that great big hunk of steel was up against the channel markers with no hope of manuvering off. The only option was to gun it, get out of harm's way and realign for another run at the channel. (Just to make sure there was no pressure or anything, there are two rusting wrecks on the reefs.) DH and I felt immeasurably better about our adventures in docking our little 34' cat. . .and believe me, we've had a few. There are sections of the air out at the marina that still glow bright blue from the swearing we've done. The captain lined the boat up with the red channel markers (red right, returning) and waited for the wind to shove the ship just past the point that the boat would hit the marker and he poured on the power. It did the trick. He got the ship into the channel and into the lee of the island where he could then dock without having to fight the wind as much. Honduras was beautiful. Hills and mountains covered in lush, vibrant foliage. We parked our backsides on the beach and I swam in the 80 degree water. We managed to fry DH's upper torso to searing red. Oops.

Mexico was next. We landed in Costa Maya on the Yucatan Peninsula. I knew the Yucatan was covered in jungle. I remembered that much from fifth grade geography, but I had it in my head that jungle = mountainous. I couldn't have been more wrong. The Yucatan Peninsula was flat and only barely above sea level. The entire thing is geologically recently uplifted sea floor. The soils are young and thin. The whole of the region is riddled with sink holes and caves because of the porous limestone being hollowed out by running water. From the coast, the Yucatan looked barren and parched. Once we docked and went inland a little, the foliage thickened and grew taller and more in keeping with my Hollywood-inspired notion of 'jungle'. But the land was still flat as a pancake. Then we looked up at the tops of the trees and there was Mayan temple. No wonder so many of the Mayan cities were lost. You could walk right up to them and unless you tripped over the stairs, you'd never know they were there. We visited Chacchoben, a nice sight because it's smaller and not quite as crowded as some of the better known ruins. The complex has not yet been fully excavated or catalogued. Apparently, satellite imaging has given archeologists the locations of thousands of sites throughout Mexico, Belize, Guatemala and Honduras. With so many investigations to be done and so few resources to go around, Chacchoben has been left only partially excavated and reconstructed. At this site, we hiked through 'hills' covered with dirt, trees and oddly shaped limestone rocks - the remains of another structure - one that has yet to be investigated. I loved walking through the banyan and palms, while a toucan (a real one!) made a fuss overhead, knowing that entire new chapters of history waited to be dug out of the dust.

It was our final hurrah. We turned around and headed back after that. Tampa was 47 degrees when we arrived. No one was happy with that. 85 and humid in the Yucatan one day, 47 freaking degrees the next. My grumbling alone should have super heated the atmosphere.  I leave you with this last photo. Me. Kitted up for caving. Hey. No one ever claimed safety was pretty.

The Internet is Full of Ax Murderers

This is fantasy and science fiction author Noel-Anne Brennan. We're friends, even though we've not yet actually met in person - have I mentioned that I love the internet? She's coached me through all of the rejections and writing frustrations the calling is heir to. Because she's been so generous in sharing advice and experience, she was one of the first people I called when my first book sold. Into the bargain, she's a cat person, and she makes and sells her own jewelry.  (http://tigermoongems.com/)  So how cool is it that in the midst of some of the worst snow of the winter, Noel-Anne found my book in a local bookstore and took the time to grab a cellphone photo?? Find Noel-Anne's books here: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_17?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=noel-anne+brennan&sprefix=noel-anne+brennan

This is my dear friend Louie. At the risk of exposing myself and Louie as terminal geeks, we're gaming guildies. Currently, it's World of Warcraft, but our association as slayers of evil, online bad guys goes all the way back to Ascheron's Call. I refuse to post any info about that game which might expose the year it was released. I can say I had the great pleasure of meeting Louie in real life (irl for my fellow gamers) when he flew out to visit the Seattle area. Now my fellow guildies and I are lobbying for him to visit again, but this time with his lovely wife and daughter. We're hoping to entice them into moving to this side of the country. We're selfish that way. He wore my book tee shirt to work under his police uniform. Can you blame any of us who know and love our epic hunter, Zar, for attempting to lure him and his family closer?

Harbinger of a Good Day

This is Cuillean, a shy and delicate girl, suffering, as many of us do, from an excess of weight. (We're working on that.) She's my cat, as opposed to hubby's. And she's skittish. In fact, to this day, when DH walks in or makes a sudden move, she runs. This in no way should reflect on the gentle, caring person he is - the DH adores his felines, too. It came as some surprise, then, when a few years ago as DH was packing his gym bag, as he does every morning in an effort to manage his health, Cuillean climbed atop his gym bag and settled down. He turned around to put his work shirt into the bag and stopped. He blinked. "Cuillean," he said. "That's my bag." She murped and jumped down.

You can see this coming, can't you? She did it again the next morning. Only, she declined to get off the bag when spoken to. DH did the only thing he could do. "I'll just have to pet that cat on my bag," he said. Cuillean had successfully conditioned the human. Thus began the ritual of 'Morning Pets'. It no longer involves the gym bag. Now the alarm goes off, DH shuts off the alarm, rolls to his back and turns the covers down. I roll to my side facing him. He pats the mattress five times. Cuillean jumps up on the bed, strolls into that spot between us and gets her ration of chin and butt scratches. Then she flops over on her side and kneads my husband's armpit. This is unbearably cute when Cuillean isn't in need of a claw clip. This goes on until something startles the girl or until the second alarm goes off. Yes. We now set the alarm a half an hour early just to accommodate Cuillean.

DH has mentioned that there's a direct correlation between quality morning pets and the quality of his day. No morning pets, crappy day. Good morning pets, much better days. I can't help noticing how something so small, so inconsequential - a cat sitting on a bag - grew into a meaningful, emotionally fulfilling ritual. I'm taking an online course wherein I'm encouraged to write in fifteen minute increments. Starting with something small. Think I'll go set my timer.

This Way Lies Madness

Been awhile, hasn't it? Have I mentioned that holidays make me insane? This year's trip into hair-tearing nuttiness was bad. Somewhere in my life, I absorbed the notion that it's my job to recreate everyone else's childhood holiday memories. Societal expectation? My own? Who knows. Over the years, I've managed to whittle back a few traditions at a time. We no longer have a tree at all. We're both allergic to the real thing (this was a terrible blow, because who doesn't love the house smelling of pine in midwinter when it's dark and nasty?) We'd gone to a fake tree, only to realize there was a warning label on the box saying "Cancer causing, blah, blah, lead, blah, toxic, blah" and the cats liked chewing on the fake tree branches. End of tree. Which only made us cling to other traditions - like the baking and goodies. Which, naturally, are *my* tasks. For whatever reason, this year, the To Do list just got longer and longer. I became crankier with each passing hour. The picture here is the a holiday tradition I started two and a half decades ago while I was still living with my folks. It's a favorite. Christmas Brunch. I comb recipes starting in October, looking for showcase dishes. No dish is ever repeated (so far - this may change). The brunch menu is a secret each year until everyone sits down to eat. Typically, we have at least one dish that's a huge win - and one dish that's an epic disappointment. This year, dessert was a disappointment - but one we were able to salvage. It all worked out. It was over brunch that we realized that our entire holiday seemed to revolve around food most specifically sugary, fatty food. And my stressed out gnashing of teeth. We kicked around ideas for changing things up a bit. How do you take the emphasis off the cookies, candies and breads you don't eat at any other time of year? How do you ease the burden of holiday stress and expectation?

You get the heck out of town. We have a list of three places we'll investigate for next year. Why shouldn't we go hang in a nice hotel and let someone else do all of the holiday cooking for us in a location we love? We don't have kids. Just cats, who, if we return with quality catnip, won't care what day of the year it is. I'm thinking of loading up the Kindle with lots of yummy books. I'll sit in a comfy lounge, sipping a nice drink. Happy future holiday...