No, I do not deserve credit for finding Duchess the cat.
Or at least not total credit.
I did not brave the cold last Wednesday night, ready to climb the tree in which the 1-year-old feline was shaking in her puss and boots.
That task went to Shelley, Mike and Amanda Putz, family members of Matt Putz, who was out of town at the time but is the boyfriend of Kortney Pippenger, who is the owner of Duchess, who had been never been outside in her life but had now been missing for four days.
Got that straight?
Pippinger, who recently suffered an injury and can't walk very well right now, somehow managed to plaster posters around town in search of Duchess. Over the course of four nights, she sat outside on the porch of her home on 21th Street and called Duchess' name for 40 minutes at a pop, even leaving her clothes out in case the cat picked up on her scent.
It was the culmination of an awful week for the college student who just turned 20. Because of her injury, she had to leave school in Madison and return to her parents' home in Monroe to rehab. Her roommate kindly brought Duchess to her for comfort, but the cat freaked out as it was brought out of the car and bolted off into the winter cold.
I saw one of the missing-cat posters at Stop-N-Go and called Pippenger Wednesday night. She sounded beyond distraught that her beloved pet of nine months was missing, so I told her I'd write a special-edition column to go in Friday's newspaper. I explained that I'd written similar columns before and they had all led to the rescue of the missing critter.
Sure enough, thanks to the mere idea of my involvement, Duchess was found a few hours later.
"I was out calling her name again, and I thought heard her respond," Pippenger said. "I wasn't sure if it was just what I wanted to hear. I thought maybe I was going crazy."
The Putzs came over and, much to everyone's delight, there was Duchess, up in a tree. They teased her with her favorite laser pointer in an attempt to lure her down, and also sprinkled food about. Finally, Duchess descended.
Amanda Putz's involvement was extra brave considering she is big-time allergic to cats.
When they brought Duchess in the house, she went straight to Pippenger's lap.
"Then she ran off to the litter box," she said. "I thought, 'You were outside all that time and didn't realize you could go?'"
So, all is well that ends well, but for the record I must remind you my emergency column was ready to go. You see, folks, while this column may seem a big self-centered at times, deep down it is here to serve the people. Whether it be a missing cat to report, or the warning of an impending storm, or an update on beer prices at Bartel's, this column can be unleashed at the drop of a hat. You have my word on that - all 5,000 of them.
Oh, you are wondering about the other critters I helped save? Well, I'm glad you asked. (And to think some of you thought this column was over with. Fools.)
nnn
Not long ago, I wrote a similar column that helped lead to the homecoming of a Maine Coon - he was the spitting image of my own cat - who was lost in the dense woods near McFarland. He was finally drawn out by the aroma of a fried egg, which is what he had eaten for breakfast every day of his life.
Then there's Dakota the educational owl, who was rescued as an injured babe and raised in captivity in an Oconomowoc animal shelter. He could not fly or fend for himself - I heard he too not only got an egg day, but demanded it be scrambled - and lived the life of a rock star, making countless appearances in front of adoring schoolchildren.
Well, one night a couple of high-school punks broke into his cage and kidnapped him. They then took him to a party where he photographed amongst empty beer cans and revelers, and the picture showed up on Facebook page. His face showed terror, but it was kind of funny at the same time. Someone opened the door at the party and out he went, and for months he hid in the ice-cold woods.
The cops busted the thieves via the Facebook page, but Dakota was feared dead.
I covered his disappearance with what seemed like daily updates. Patty Hearst could have only dreamed of such publicity and effort. You may recall she eventually had to rob a bank in order to be found.
Meanwhile, Dakota's disappearance was the talk of the town, and search parties were on the owl prowl. For me, it gave all new meaning to "hooter alert."
Anyway, eventually he was spotted standing on someone's patio table. I would like to say the homeowner asked "Are you Dakota?" and the owl responded by saying "Who?" but that would be a stretch.
Finally, the call of Dakota's handler got a response and he was found.
You can Google "Dakota the educational owl, Oconomowoc" if you want to share in the saga.
As for Duchess, you little rascal, this could not have been a happy ending - my involvement notwithstanding. Don't do this again, kitty cat. Remember, you only have nine lives. Now you're down to eight-and-a-half.
- John Morton covers the city beat for the Monroe Times. and can be reached at jmorton@themonroetimes.com or by phone at 608-328-4202, ext. 50. His column appears Mondays.
Or at least not total credit.
I did not brave the cold last Wednesday night, ready to climb the tree in which the 1-year-old feline was shaking in her puss and boots.
That task went to Shelley, Mike and Amanda Putz, family members of Matt Putz, who was out of town at the time but is the boyfriend of Kortney Pippenger, who is the owner of Duchess, who had been never been outside in her life but had now been missing for four days.
Got that straight?
Pippinger, who recently suffered an injury and can't walk very well right now, somehow managed to plaster posters around town in search of Duchess. Over the course of four nights, she sat outside on the porch of her home on 21th Street and called Duchess' name for 40 minutes at a pop, even leaving her clothes out in case the cat picked up on her scent.
It was the culmination of an awful week for the college student who just turned 20. Because of her injury, she had to leave school in Madison and return to her parents' home in Monroe to rehab. Her roommate kindly brought Duchess to her for comfort, but the cat freaked out as it was brought out of the car and bolted off into the winter cold.
I saw one of the missing-cat posters at Stop-N-Go and called Pippenger Wednesday night. She sounded beyond distraught that her beloved pet of nine months was missing, so I told her I'd write a special-edition column to go in Friday's newspaper. I explained that I'd written similar columns before and they had all led to the rescue of the missing critter.
Sure enough, thanks to the mere idea of my involvement, Duchess was found a few hours later.
"I was out calling her name again, and I thought heard her respond," Pippenger said. "I wasn't sure if it was just what I wanted to hear. I thought maybe I was going crazy."
The Putzs came over and, much to everyone's delight, there was Duchess, up in a tree. They teased her with her favorite laser pointer in an attempt to lure her down, and also sprinkled food about. Finally, Duchess descended.
Amanda Putz's involvement was extra brave considering she is big-time allergic to cats.
When they brought Duchess in the house, she went straight to Pippenger's lap.
"Then she ran off to the litter box," she said. "I thought, 'You were outside all that time and didn't realize you could go?'"
So, all is well that ends well, but for the record I must remind you my emergency column was ready to go. You see, folks, while this column may seem a big self-centered at times, deep down it is here to serve the people. Whether it be a missing cat to report, or the warning of an impending storm, or an update on beer prices at Bartel's, this column can be unleashed at the drop of a hat. You have my word on that - all 5,000 of them.
Oh, you are wondering about the other critters I helped save? Well, I'm glad you asked. (And to think some of you thought this column was over with. Fools.)
nnn
Not long ago, I wrote a similar column that helped lead to the homecoming of a Maine Coon - he was the spitting image of my own cat - who was lost in the dense woods near McFarland. He was finally drawn out by the aroma of a fried egg, which is what he had eaten for breakfast every day of his life.
Then there's Dakota the educational owl, who was rescued as an injured babe and raised in captivity in an Oconomowoc animal shelter. He could not fly or fend for himself - I heard he too not only got an egg day, but demanded it be scrambled - and lived the life of a rock star, making countless appearances in front of adoring schoolchildren.
Well, one night a couple of high-school punks broke into his cage and kidnapped him. They then took him to a party where he photographed amongst empty beer cans and revelers, and the picture showed up on Facebook page. His face showed terror, but it was kind of funny at the same time. Someone opened the door at the party and out he went, and for months he hid in the ice-cold woods.
The cops busted the thieves via the Facebook page, but Dakota was feared dead.
I covered his disappearance with what seemed like daily updates. Patty Hearst could have only dreamed of such publicity and effort. You may recall she eventually had to rob a bank in order to be found.
Meanwhile, Dakota's disappearance was the talk of the town, and search parties were on the owl prowl. For me, it gave all new meaning to "hooter alert."
Anyway, eventually he was spotted standing on someone's patio table. I would like to say the homeowner asked "Are you Dakota?" and the owl responded by saying "Who?" but that would be a stretch.
Finally, the call of Dakota's handler got a response and he was found.
You can Google "Dakota the educational owl, Oconomowoc" if you want to share in the saga.
As for Duchess, you little rascal, this could not have been a happy ending - my involvement notwithstanding. Don't do this again, kitty cat. Remember, you only have nine lives. Now you're down to eight-and-a-half.
- John Morton covers the city beat for the Monroe Times. and can be reached at jmorton@themonroetimes.com or by phone at 608-328-4202, ext. 50. His column appears Mondays.