NEWSBYKATE STOVER

Declawing continues to be a common, and all too frequently automatic, procedure people impose upon their cats. Working in a shelter, I saw time and again people adopting cats and, as they strolled out the door, calling their vet to make an appointment for the surgery. This always brought out the urge in me to run after them and take the cat back.

Why would otherwise loving and responsible owners do this to their cats?

It is possible that they don't fully understand the procedure. According to my veterinarian, "Declawing is, in layman's terms, amputating the paws to the first knuckle. It is, obviously, irreversible, and has several possible complications, including paralysis."

It's not equivalent to removing your fingernails; it's like cutting

Over the last few decades, vegetarianism and veganism have become increasingly common. A vegetarian for seventeen years, I'm greeted with a great deal more understanding than in the past, restaurants are much more likely to carry vegetarian alternatives, tofu can be found in most grocery stores, and upon declaring my vegetarianism, I'm no longer surprised to hear "Oh yeah? So is my [co-worker/best friend/etc]."

And the statistics show it: the veggie population is increasing. Polls conducted by the Vegetarian Resource Group showed that the percent of those surveyed who never ate meat rose from 6 to 8 percent between 1994 and 2009; not a huge leap percentage-wise, but an increase of a few million people nonetheless. Half of the respondents to the more recent poll said they "sometimes, often or always" order vegetarian meals when eating out; fifteen years ago, only 20 to 30 percent said they looked for veggie meals on the menu. 

In VRG's latest survey, they noted the change in attitudes toward vegetarianism: "The word now has a positive connotation, as many people who are not actually vegetarian call themselves vegetarians" (which seems to confuse some members of the non-veggie population who have the impression that it's not usual for a vegetarian to have the occasional burger). Going vegetarian seems to be trendy, especially amongst young people. But for those of us who have made a commitment to an animal-friendly diet, does this help or hurt our cause?

I meet a great deal more vegetarians and vegans these days than in the p

How many times are we going to hear about cops apparently losing their minds — and quite a lot of bullets — when they encounter an animal? And it doesn't just happen with dogs.

In Sacramento, the California State Fair is taking place. This event, advertised as "big fun," found itself under scrutiny from animal rights groups in the area when it decided to have a Livestock Nursery attraction. This would include a live cow giving birth in front of large crowds. This, the animal rights groups asserted, was inhumane; birthing mothers need calm and quiet.

The fair may not have been pleased with the negative press from such groups, but they couldn't have imagined what was to come next.

A front door opens and out comes a pet cat, trotting off into the cool night air. Every night this cat is put outside to wander the streets. Her family, who loves her dearly, does this because they believe a cat is meant to spend some time roaming, climbing trees, hunting. Unfortunately, the cat is not the only one out hunting tonight. There is a human stalking the streets as well, a human with deranged urges, and the next time her family sees their cat, her body will have been sliced apart and discarded for that human's entertainment.

This is not the opening of some new horror movie. This is what is believed to be happening in a Sacramento neighborhood, as the mutilated bodies of nine cats have turned up in as many days. And though it's happening there with truly disturbing frequency of late, abuse and even mutilation of cats is far from unheard of anywhere.

Though perhaps one of the most frightening, this is just one of many dangers facing cats that are allowed to roam outdoors.

Whether or not to allow cats this freedom is a question that divides eve

There seems to be the idea out there that fish are something along the lines of mindless, swimming robots with three-second memories and no ability to feel pain. The Discovery Channel show Mythbusters disproved that myth about their memories (as did Dr. Kevin Warburton, a researcher from Charles Sturt University). Not long ago, I addressed the myth that fish cannot feel pain.

Already a great deal has come to light that shows fish are a lot more complex than we thought. But fish are not yet finished having their say. The next area to address? Language.

It has long been accepted that whales communicate with each other through calls that resemble song. This may be such an easily acceptable fact not only because we can hear them, but because we know that whales are, like us, mammals. Yet new research indicates that whales are not the only sea creatures with fins who communicate with sound.

My boyfriend works at a veterinary clinic and tends to come home from work full of stories. It seems that anything that can happen to an animal, he's encountered: from the wonderful (an emaciated former stray blossoming into a healthy pet) to the bizzare (a dog getting into his owner's cache of illegal drugs) to the tragic ... which is what happened the other day when a neglected outdoor dog was brought into the clinic.

The dog had only ever been allowed in the owners' yard and had lived his life on a chain. The weather has been very hot and humid recently, and this dog had long, shaggy, black fur. And he hadn't been given much water. By the time his owners brought him to the clinic, the dog's temperature was astoundingly high. His living conditions had also been so unsanitary that he was covered in maggots. The owners had nothing to say for themselves, except to fight over who had to pay for the dog's care.

The dog died that day.

Horrified, I asked, "Didn't anybody call anima

I've been a vegetarian for a long time, and have heard some interesting arguments against vegetarianism. One of my favorites is the idea that cows need to be kept for our benefit; that over the centuries they've become far too domesticated to be able to go wild. Proponents of this argument imply, and sometimes outright say, that humans are doing cows a favor by eating them, drinking their milk and using their skin as leather.  "Because," they rationalize, "what else would happen to them if we didn't?"

They might live long, comfortable lives.

But let's say, for the sake of argument, that domestic cows would need to earn their keep while they're out grazing in the fields (factory farms are obviously not part of this picture). You don't need to slaughter them for that; all you need to do is follow them around with a shovel.

Not so long ago, people flatly denied that animals other than humans could have feelings or intelligence. I always found this a shock, however often I heard it. I could see how happy my dog was to see me when I came home from school. I could tell that when one of our cats passed away, the other mourned her. My decision to go vegetarian at age six was partly based on my inability to forget that the burger on my plate had been someone's child.

Now, my own alma mater, the University of Exeter, has brought forth new research to assert that animals have a great deal more to their inner lives than we've given them credit for. Scientists from the university's School of Biosciences have, through observing and experimenting with banded mongooses, concluded that even smaller-brained animals are capable of passing along rudimentary cultures and traditions. 

In mongoose families, the biological parents do very little in raising their young. Instead, the young choose a grown mongoose — who might be an older sibling, cousin, or uncle — to be something of a father figure-type mentor. This mentor teaches the young mongoose its preferred method of getting into hard-shelled prey. The researchers found that the young mongoose nearly always still used the learned method later in life, teaching it to its own tutees and thereby passing on a tradition.

For the past few weeks, Octomom Nadya Suleman had a sign posted on her home: "Don't Let Your Dog or Cat Become an Octomom. Always Spay or Neuter." Though she was being paid by PETA for the sign, Suleman claims she fully agrees with spaying and neutering pets. 

Yesterday was the city of La Hambra, California's deadline for the campaign, so the sign would have been taken down. I can only hope that its message will remain.

Many of us have grown up surrounded by this message. I, for one, can't think of daytime television without hearing Bob Barker telling me to spay and neuter my pets. Unfortunately, the one thing that both Ms. Suleman and Mr. Barker neglect to explain, and the one thing I always asked when being told what to do, is why. 

Earlier this week, Stephanie Feldstein wrote about a couple who had been running a dog rescue in Florida. They were charged with 261 counts of animal cruelty; one for every dog they owned. Deputies rescuing the dogs could not enter the home without gas masks due to the smell.

In California, dozens of cats and dogs were found last week in a 32-foot long trailer. There was only one bowl of water, and feces littered the floor.

In Washington, over 75 animals, ranging from horses to a guinea pig, were removed from an unsafe home. Animal Services had been working with the owner to reduce the number of animals, but then progress stalled and the condition of the animals was going downhill fast.

These three stories aren't the only large-scale rescues that happened in the past week. This is the ugly face of animal hoarding, a complex problem that touches thousands of people and an estimated quarter-million animals a year. What sets these people apart from other pet owners? How does someone go from rescuing animals to hoarding them?