My boys

Bo and Luke are the two precious kitties of the family. Very fat, special kitties are they! At age 25, I got the boys on December 15, 2001 from Jacksonville, Florida, where I was living at the time. Here's their story:

I lived on a golf course in Jacksonville. One day while walking about the course, I heard a faint cry in a bush and knew immediately that it was a kitten. He was a fuzzy little white and gray kitty that somehow lost his mother. Being who I am, I scooped the little one up and happily went home with "Links". Links was a very athletic and energetic kitty, thereby ripping the furniture and carpet to shreds in bouts of boredom and restlessness. My roommate and I decided to have him declawed while he was anesthesized for neutering. Well, Mr. Linksy never woke up. Prior to his one-way trip to the vet for his murder/procedure, I even took Links to my office for all the girls to meet, since they had heard so much of my little feline. It was a very sad time for me...which actually was about this time of year. I was striken with guilt for requesting the declaw; declawing requires a higher dosage of anesthesia than neutering alone. After a while, I realized that the anesthesiologist was an idiot and perhaps I should not carry around so much guilt.

Since I had become so accustomed to the life and entertainment from the little kitten, I decided to get another one. I went to the humane society but all the kittens were claimed. I searched for rescue organizations and discovered "Purrfect Love", an organization that rescues animals from euthanasia at the humane society. In October, Bo and Luke were scheduled to be put to sleep because of a bad respiratory infection. However, Purrfect Love realized the potential health of the kittens, adopted them, and began nursing them back to good health. Choosing my new kitten was difficult for I wanted each one that had been rescued! Some of the older cats were pitiful; one had been doused with kerosene and set afire on Halloween. The next dilemma I faced was splitting up litter mates. That's when the thought occurred that two kittens may be better than one because each would keep the other company. With proper justification, I selected Bo and Luke.

Sick since birth, they were not very pretty kittens. They had pot bellies, runny eyes, and drippy noses. Their illnesses progressed even though they were on a pretty high dose of antibiotics. (For those of you who don't know what antibiotics make a kitty's rump smell like, be thankful!) The respiratory infection was accompanied by a gastrointestinal infection and a good case of ringworm. I could handle the projectile sneezes and stinky side effects, but the GI infection had me considering purchasing newborn diapers and cutting holes in them so the cats could wear them with their tails hanging out. Luckily, it never came to that point. But I unfortunately did not discover their ringworm until I identified it on myself! It was the easiest cure of all...and no harm to me!

After thorough background checks and verifying multiple references, I decided on my new vet. With proper nutrition, medication, and about $800, Bo and Luke were on their way to optimal health! When it came time for neutering, I selected the gas method of anesthesia over the injection form; the vets could remove the gas at any sign of distress in the kitten. For thirty minutes Bo and Luke were put to sleep and neutered, and this is the only time in their lives that they were separated.

These kitties have lived in many places before calling the mountains their home. They lived in three different apartments in Jacksonville, in Athens, Georgia, at Nana and Papa's, our first house in Kernersville, and home. My sickly, city kitties have come a long way in six years. And they haven't had the first cold, only injuries from the farm since they have free choice to go in and out.

In Kernersville, the house had neither screens nor air conditioning. I asked Danny to please put up the screens he had for the windows so we could have some fresh air. With the boys solely accustomed to apartment living, the outdoors was a scary and unfamiliar place to them. While the house was situated in the middle of tobacco fields, a busy road was in the front of the house. Danny assured me it would all work out just fine. Our first evening away from home while dining with his parents, Luke discovered a window I did not lower enough and decided to explore the great outdoors. I hysterically and immediately realized he was gone when we returned. After an hour of searching, calling, and rattling treats, I found Luke crouching and crying under a tobacco plant. Danny was so scared, moreso for himself than for Luke!

The boys love the mountains. They have caught moles, birds, rabbits, and field mice, which they usually bring in their front door with much pride and as gifts for us. These city slickers have even killed a possum! Danny, who was against the kitties living in the house, has taught them that they are kitty cats, not just boys. They don't hunt as much as they have in the first few years here. In fact, they are pretty lazy in their routines. They expect to be fed precisely at 6:15am and promptly at 5:00pm. Little Bo has morning "beg" duty, pouncing on my chest at the first sound of my voice; Luke has evening duty, which starts at about 3:00, following me everywhere I go. Luke enjoys bird hunting after his morning feeding while Bo is more interested in a walk to the barn or mole hunting after the evening feeding. We think something spooked BoBo at the barn because he goes there significantly less often these days. If I procrastinate at 5:00, which I often do to make them keep walking around, they'll get so mad that they fight with each other. Sometimes before bedtime we have kitty wrestling, more physical activity that I encourage. Our vet, Dr. Sluss (again with references), happens to have the boys labeled as severely obese in their files. Bo weighs in at 15lbs with Luke tipping the scales at 17lbs. We have a song we've composed and sing, "Dr. Sluss Is Gonna Fuss"; most of the songs we make up and sing are to old hymn tunes.

These two kitties destined for euthanasia have given me such sweet companionship for six years. I may have lost one kitty, but I gained two. Although they sleep about 20 hours a day, I enjoy feeling the life in their presence and think how they almost didn't have a chance. I never have to worry about oversleeping, either! Their part of the contract during the adoption process was to stay with me until I'm at the age of 40 for housecats typically live about 15 years, much to Danny's chagrin! We have 8 years remaining in the contract, if obesity complications or that "hard mountain living" doesn't expedite the process.

Elly Mae

When I was at UGA pursuing my doctoral degree, my favorite class was a qualitative research course. Qualitative research involves subjective observation of the themes and patterns of behaviors in a set of people; quantitative research involves measurements and calculations of specific and concrete actions in a set of people. I'm not sure if it was the content matter or the professor, Dr. Elizabeth Payne, that intrigued me. At first, I was certain that the professor was going to live up to her last name! I remember my sister, Wendy, telling me when I was beginning college to not be fooled by my first impression of my professors on "syllabus day", the first day of class. She was absolutely correct because on the first day, professors put up a front to weed out potential problem students and show that he/she has the authority and power over your grade. I know firsthand after teaching courses through my three years of graduate school.

Anyway, Dr. Payne was an intense teacher. She loved her job and it showed. In addition to the four textbooks we had for the course, we had various other book assignments to read about every other week, each about a various culture and the roots of its behaviors. Dr. Payne challenged each of us at a new level. For her dissertation, she moved to an Indian reservation for over a year. She moved in with a family and adopted the culture of the tribe to immerse herself into her research. Dr. Payne believed in the theoretical construct that to truly understand the behaviors and customs of a population, the researcher must "walk in their shoes" to grasp the true foundations of behaviors. She was a cool teacher.

Qualitative research is more time consuming than quantitative, so it is not often the method chosen to collect data. Constant observation and memorization collects qualitative data; the researcher must continually treat every encounter as a collection point. The key to successful qualitative data collection is to blend in with the environment so behaviors of the population are not altered. You know how we each feel knowing a camera is aimed at us or a microphone is near our mouth; we tend to behave just a bit differently. It takes a while to be accepted into another's environment, but after a while, a level of comfort and normalcy is established and true behaviors emerge.

So...why am I babbling about qualitative research? I have had several people ask me if I regret my choice to become a homemaker over completing something as prestigious as a doctorate of philosophy. My dad's joke, which I have used quite often, is that I decided to get my "MRS" instead of my "PHD". I've battled the thoughts that I am wasting my education but recently I have felt true peace about my decision. Ironically, I have had about the same number of people joke with me about all of our animals and my interactions with each. I have even had multiple people, mostly family, call me Elly Mae from the Beverly Hillbillies.

I feel like each day is a collection point of qualitative research because I truly enjoy observing the animals' behaviors and routines. Since we have a variety, boredom is not an issue for me. Research has always been a strong point for me because of my keen perception and memory. If you just watch an animal, you can learn to predict it's behavior and train it easily. Now I'm no horse whisperer, but I am good with animals. They are fun to watch and since most of you don't have 2 fat cats, 5 dogs, 4 horses, and 4 cows plus 3 cows and 3 chickens at the Fowler Farm, I plan to utilize my blogspot to record and share with you some of the interesting observations and encounters that I have.

Some people think I am wasting my time and compassion on animals and should be raising a family instead, for animals have no soul and short lifespans. Some people think I'm just a little crazy. But I feel the Lord has His hand in our lives right now. I feel that He is pleased that I am tending to His creatures, in some way preparing me for the hopeful family ahead.

I am content being called Elly Mae instead of "doctor". I love the companionship of the animals and the labor they require while I am making our home. I believe that my educational training has helped me to adapt to my new home in the mountains and care for the animals that I have acquired. (When Danny and I married, it was just the cats, Bo and Luke, our dog, Scout, and two horses, Sunday and Shadow.) I have immersed myself into mountain living, the job of tending to our home and small farm and the animals that come with it. I wrote in my last blog that I would write about the animals, but I felt it was necessary to explain or perhaps justify my interest of their routines and behaviors before sharing our "barntales". I am also trying to figure out a way to link a story I wrote about the loss of some of our animals in the past year; from what I've heard, it's a good story, but it is too long for a blog. It is the spark flaming my desire to write more...but not right now. :)