I began 2011 the same way I ended 2010, pondering a notice about a lost cat that showed up in my mailbox about two weeks before Christmas. It was nothing fancy. A single sheet of white copy paper with text written in black capital letters, except for those words the author thought warranted special emphasis with colored type. Evidently it had been put it put in my box before the mail arrived because I found it mashed at the bottom of a pile of holiday ads and cards.
In spite of the fact that the main text was very short, only 14 words, those words packed quite a wallop. So much of a wallop that I found myself counting the syllables and felt a rush of pleasure when I discovered there were seventeen of them. Just like a haiku. How fitting was that?
But probably, you may be thinking, not the kind of discovery about which significant New Year’s commentaries are written. That might be true about your standard lost kitty haiku-notice but not this one. Quite the contrary, I could write at least three commentaries about the contents of this wrinkled piece of paper and its contents. But because one of my resolutions for this year—alas a resolution I’ve broken many times before—is not to run on so, I’m going to limit this discussion to the most practical aspects of the flyer.
What did this notice teach me that will ensure the highest rate of success should my or your animals get lost or when we seek to help others locate theirs? What did it tell me that would help me or anyone identify any animal we came across as this particular cat?
Well, the author of the notice informed me that the lost animal is a kitty. The kitty’s name. That the kitty is small, black and white. And that the kitty has long white whiskers and a white chin. All of which is quite helpful. I’ve seen notices that mention the animal’s name, but not the species. Names can be helpful because, with luck, hearing their own names even from a stranger may keep some skittish lost animals from bolting. But it won’t help if you got a positive response from a free-roaming-but-not-lost dog named Butch when the Butch who’s lost is a cat.
Knowing the color of the animal’s coat is also beneficial, but it’s also important to know the color pattern. Is the missing cat in my area a black and white cat whose white is limited to chin and long whiskers? Or is this a black cat with white paws and/or a white bib or tummy? Or is the cat more white than black? From the notice, I have no idea.
Similarly, colors or patterns that carry specific meanings in purebred dog and cat circles—such as slate, blue, lavender, chinchilla, red, silver, shaded or ticked —may have no meaning for those unfamiliar with the breed.
And speaking of fur coats, is the missing cat whose notice appeared in my mailbox a short, medium, or long-haired animal? Unfortunately, this information is missing as it is from many notices for lost cats and dogs.
Next up for consideration, what comes to mind when you think of a “small” cat? If you’re like me, you might think, “Small compared to what?” If no age is given, “small” might mean that the animal is a kitten or puppy. Or the animal may be a fully grown but small adult. But not all adult animals are created equally. Some cats have the slinkier conformation of the newer type Siamese and its derivatives rather than the blockier conformation of cats of cold climate evolution. In that case a cat could be relatively small in weight, but tall in stature. Ditto for some dogs. Further muddying the waters, if the lost animal is a purebred, he or she might be small for the breed, but large compared to the members of that same species. But that, too, would only have meaning to those who were familiar with the breed.
So all in the all, the use of adjectives like “small” or “large” in such notices has little meaning unless we describe exactly what we mean when we use those words.
Knowing the animal’s age can also be helpful when looking for a lost animal. Not only may younger and older dogs and cats look different, they may display different behaviors when they become lost. Some younger, fitter animals readily may go into hunting mode whereas older animals with arthritis and/or other ailments or those less skilled may hang around garbage cans or people’s homes in hopes of finding something edible.
Previously I spoke of the lost animal as “he or she,” which brings up another important item for any lost animal notice: the animal’s sex. Admittedly, we now live in an age where some people don’t even want to think about animal external genitalia, let alone actually look at them. But this is a very energy-efficient way of limiting a search for a lost animal. If you’re looking for a black and white female cat you can automatically eliminate any black and white males you encounter. And, yes, it can be tough to sex young kittens, but I do think that learning the sex of one’s own animals is a good New Year’s Resolution to make if one is uncertain about this. Similarly, anyone who wants to help those who have lost their pets find them should be able to tell the difference between a male and female. And while it can be difficult to determine whether some females have been spayed even with an animal who accepts handling, it’s not rocket science to determine whether a male has been castrated. (True the animal may be a bilateral cryptorchid with both testicles retained in the abdominal cavity, but that’s not that common.)
By this time you may have been thinking the obvious: Why don’t these people print a copy of their pet’s picture on the notice? While some may be quick to accuse those who neglect to do this of stupidity, I’m not among them. I know of too many good people who went to pieces when their beloved pets sneaked out the door or didn’t come in like they always do right after they relieved themselves last thing at night. Add the “Do something immediately!” mindset that pervades our society and the thought of dashing to the computer and printing out a hundred notices asap seems like the logical response.
Ironically, we also live in an era when we may have many more pictures of our pets than in the past, but they’re in different computers or on different drives or disks and we can’t remember where the file for the best one for this purpose is. Or maybe we know where it is, but it’s in the wrong format and we don’t have time to master some obscure photo-technique to put it in the right one. Or maybe our spouse or kids or next door neighbor always does that kind of stuff for us and it’s too late at night to bother them or they’re out of town.
So instead we count on words. But as the notice in my mailbox and countless others that appear on phone poles, in newspapers, and on local bulletin boards make clear, our words often fail to compensate for the lack of that picture.
But the worst part of all this is the heart-breaking sentiment summed up in two words at the bottom of the limited description on the notice I received: MUCH LOVED high-lighted in purple ink. I don’t doubt that sentiment for an instant. And I can easily imagine the distress of the person making his or her way down my sparsely populated road in the frigid air slipping the notice with that sentiment into mailboxes.
It’s the idea that the notice for that little, lost, and much loved kitty contained so little useful information that made me resolve to write my New Year’s commentary about a resolution I’d like you to consider. Take the time to study your pet(s) as if you were describing them to someone who had never seen the animal before and to whom you wanted to give the information that would make it as easy as possible to identify your pet. Jot down notes on those critical factors discussed above. Then compose a concise, meaningful description of your pet(s) now when you have time, and add a picture or file of same.
Once you’ve done that, print and give or email the material to someone who doesn’t know your pet and ask them to critique it. Is there anything you forgot to include that they think would be helpful? Once the description passes muster, put it someplace where you can easily find it even if you’re upset. Each New Year’s update it as needed.
With luck you’ll never need to print up notices because your animal will never get lost. In that case, you’ll wind up with a collection of descriptions that will serve as a record of how your pet has changed over the years. If such a print job should be necessary, you’ll be able to accomplish it quickly and well.
Either way, the fact that your animal is much loved will be apparent.
I began 2011 the same way I ended 2010, pondering a notice about a lost cat that showed up in my mailbox about two weeks before Christmas. It was nothing fancy. A single sheet of white copy paper with text written in black capital letters, except for those words the author thought warranted special emphasis with colored type. Evidently it had been put it put in my box before the mail arrived because I found it mashed at the bottom of a pile of holiday ads and cards.
In spite of the fact that the main text was very short, only 14 words, those words packed quite a wallop. So much of a wallop that I found myself counting the syllables and felt a rush of pleasure when I discovered there were seventeen of them. Just like a haiku. How fitting was that?
But probably, you may be thinking, not the kind of discovery about which significant New Year’s commentaries are written. That might be true about your standard lost kitty haiku-notice but not this one. Quite the contrary, I could write at least three commentaries about the contents of this wrinkled piece of paper and its contents. But because one of my resolutions for this year—alas a resolution I’ve broken many times before—is not to run on so, I’m going to limit this discussion to the most practical aspects of the flyer.
What did this notice teach me that will ensure the highest rate of success should my or your animals get lost or when we seek to help others locate theirs? What did it tell me that would help me or anyone identify any animal we came across as this particular cat?
Well, the author of the notice informed me that the lost animal is a kitty. The kitty’s name. That the kitty is small, black and white. And that the kitty has long white whiskers and a white chin. All of which is quite helpful. I’ve seen notices that mention the animal’s name, but not the species. Names can be helpful because, with luck, hearing their own names even from a stranger may keep some skittish lost animals from bolting. But it won’t help if you got a positive response from a free-roaming-but-not-lost dog named Butch when the Butch who’s lost is a cat.
Knowing the color of the animal’s coat is also beneficial, but it’s also important to know the color pattern. Is the missing cat in my area a black and white cat whose white is limited to chin and long whiskers? Or is this a black cat with white paws and/or a white bib or tummy? Or is the cat more white than black? From the notice, I have no idea.
Similarly, colors or patterns that carry specific meanings in purebred dog and cat circles—such as slate, blue, lavender, chinchilla, red, silver, shaded or ticked —may have no meaning for those unfamiliar with the breed.
And speaking of fur coats, is the missing cat whose notice appeared in my mailbox a short, medium, or long-haired animal? Unfortunately, this information is missing as it is from many notices for lost cats and dogs.
Next up for consideration, what comes to mind when you think of a “small” cat? If you’re like me, you might think, “Small compared to what?” If no age is given, “small” might mean that the animal is a kitten or puppy. Or the animal may be a fully grown but small adult. But not all adult animals are created equally. Some cats have the slinkier conformation of the newer type Siamese and its derivatives rather than the blockier conformation of cats of cold climate evolution. In that case a cat could be relatively small in weight, but tall in stature. Ditto for some dogs. Further muddying the waters, if the lost animal is a purebred, he or she might be small for the breed, but large compared to the members of that same species. But that, too, would only have meaning to those who were familiar with the breed.
So all in the all, the use of adjectives like “small” or “large” in such notices has little meaning unless we describe exactly what we mean when we use those words.
Knowing the animal’s age can also be helpful when looking for a lost animal. Not only may younger and older dogs and cats look different, they may display different behaviors when they become lost. Some younger, fitter animals readily may go into hunting mode whereas older animals with arthritis and/or other ailments or those less skilled may hang around garbage cans or people’s homes in hopes of finding something edible.
Previously I spoke of the lost animal as “he or she,” which brings up another important item for any lost animal notice: the animal’s sex. Admittedly, we now live in an age where some people don’t even want to think about animal external genitalia, let alone actually look at them. But this is a very energy-efficient way of limiting a search for a lost animal. If you’re looking for a black and white female cat you can automatically eliminate any black and white males you encounter. And, yes, it can be tough to sex young kittens, but I do think that learning the sex of one’s own animals is a good New Year’s Resolution to make if one is uncertain about this. Similarly, anyone who wants to help those who have lost their pets find them should be able to tell the difference between a male and female. And while it can be difficult to determine whether some females have been spayed even with an animal who accepts handling, it’s not rocket science to determine whether a male has been castrated. (True the animal may be a bilateral cryptorchid with both testicles retained in the abdominal cavity, but that’s not that common.)
By this time you may have been thinking the obvious: Why don’t these people print a copy of their pet’s picture on the notice? While some may be quick to accuse those who neglect to do this of stupidity, I’m not among them. I know of too many good people who went to pieces when their beloved pets sneaked out the door or didn’t come in like they always do right after they relieved themselves last thing at night. Add the “Do something immediately!” mindset that pervades our society and the thought of dashing to the computer and printing out a hundred notices asap seems like the logical response.
Ironically, we also live in an era when we may have many more pictures of our pets than in the past, but they’re in different computers or on different drives or disks and we can’t remember where the file for the best one for this purpose is. Or maybe we know where it is, but it’s in the wrong format and we don’t have time to master some obscure photo-technique to put it in the right one. Or maybe our spouse or kids or next door neighbor always does that kind of stuff for us and it’s too late at night to bother them or they’re out of town.
So instead we count on words. But as the notice in my mailbox and countless others that appear on phone poles, in newspapers, and on local bulletin boards make clear, our words often fail to compensate for the lack of that picture.
But the worst part of all this is the heart-breaking sentiment summed up in two words at the bottom of the limited description on the notice I received: MUCH LOVED high-lighted in purple ink. I don’t doubt that sentiment for an instant. And I can easily imagine the distress of the person making his or her way down my sparsely populated road in the frigid air slipping the notice with that sentiment into mailboxes.
It’s the idea that the notice for that little, lost, and much loved kitty contained so little useful information that made me resolve to write my New Year’s commentary about a resolution I’d like you to consider. Take the time to study your pet(s) as if you were describing them to someone who had never seen the animal before and to whom you wanted to give the information that would make it as easy as possible to identify your pet. Jot down notes on those critical factors discussed above. Then compose a concise, meaningful description of your pet(s) now when you have time, and add a picture or file of same.
Once you’ve done that, print and give or email the material to someone who doesn’t know your pet and ask them to critique it. Is there anything you forgot to include that they think would be helpful? Once the description passes muster, put it someplace where you can easily find it even if you’re upset. Each New Year’s update it as needed.
With luck you’ll never need to print up notices because your animal will never get lost. In that case, you’ll wind up with a collection of descriptions that will serve as a record of how your pet has changed over the years. If such a print job should be necessary, you’ll be able to accomplish it quickly and well.
Either way, the fact that your animal is much loved will be apparent.