Secrets of Lost Cats: One Woman, Twenty Posters, and a New Understanding of Love

Description: Secrets of Lost Cats by Dr Nancy Davidson Youve seen them. Hanging on telephone poles and posted on supermarket bulletin boards. But have you ever wondered about the stories behind them? When her orange tabby, Zak, disappeared, Nancy Davidson did what countless people before her had done. She made a lost cat poster. And after days of frantic searching, she found him. Nancy was ecstatic. Zak seemed happy, too--although being a cat, it was hard to tell. Zak may have remained his old self, but Nancy had changed. From that moment on, she became acutely aware of lost cat posters. She studied their language, composition, and design. She was drawn to their folk art. Mostly, however, she was intrigued by the messages themselves--the stories behind the posters. It wasnt long before Nancy reached out to other owners of lost and found cats to offer empathy and support. They told hilarious and often poignant stories. They sought advice. Thats when Dr. Nancy, the cat lover and the seasoned therapist, stepped in and offered insights brought to light by her shrewd, but never self-serious analysis. What they told her--and what she learns - creates a captivating look into the heart of our relationships with our pets and each other. For seven years, Dr. Nancy followed the lost cat trail discovering answers to a question that eventually touches all of us: What will you do for love? The Secrets of Lost Cats traces the evolution of Nancy Davidsons seven-year passion for lost cat posters. From the astonishing, almost implausible posters she encounters across the country--and indeed, the world--to the daring, dedication, and emotional complexity of the cat owners themselves, The Secrets of Lost Cats offers readers an absorbing journey that illuminates love, loss, and learning to love again, even more deeply. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography DR. NANCY DAVIDSON is a psychotherapist, weekend feline sleuth, and the creator of The Secrets of Lost Cats. She lives in Manhattan and Los Angeles. Review "This wonderful book puts an end to the notion that there are cat people and dog people. There are only people--and the animals they love." --Julie Klam, New York Times bestselling author of You Had Me At Woof "Dr. Nancy Davidson takes a brilliant idea for a book, clamps down on it like a cat with its mousie toy, and runs from one insight to another about people and the kitties who own them. But beware. After you read this you may never be able to just walk past a lost pet poster again." --Bob Tarte, author of Kitty Cornered, Enslaved by Ducks, and Fowl Weather "The best animal stories are ultimately human stories as well, and this book is a beautiful testament to just that. The stories in these pages--each one a gem--will make you laugh, cry, hug your own felines a little bit closer, and in the end remind you why those of us who love our cats would do anything in the world for them." --Gwen Cooper, New York Times Bestselling author of Homers Odyssey "A little gem." --Booklist, starred review "An examination of love, loss, recovery, and everything in between that anyone with a cat will relate to." --Modern Cat "She writes with sensitivity and respect about the roles cats and their human companions play with each other and the extent to which a person would go to get their beloved feline back - including breaking and entering and hiring psychics and pet detectives. Some cats were found, others returned on their own - and some never came back, leaving owners depressed and guilty. But the overall feelings Davidson sensed were ones of love and compassion, and these threads run strong throughout The Secrets of Lost Cats." --Shelf Awareness "Each of the brief glimpses into the cat owners lives proves captivating. Davidson has an engaging writing style and clever concept; peoples relationships with pets can reveal much about their personalities, and how a pet owner reacts when his or her pet is suddenly lost can be even more illuminating. Davidson has taken a narrow interest - cat ownership - and used it to examine human nature." --Publishers Weekly Review Quote "This wonderful book puts an end to the notion that there are cat people and dog people . Excerpt from Book ZAK Five days after Zaks disappearance, Id learned nothing as to his whereabouts. People had called to wish me luck-but no one in the neighborhood had seen Zak. Not even Old Man Tony, who sat on his porch steps every day overseeing the comings and goings on the street. Eddie didnt know, either. Eddie was the developmentally disabled man who lived with his mother across the street. Middle-aged but spry, he used to put Zak in his bicycle basket and ride with him around the block. Zak liked it, but after I saw Eddie pedaling away from our street with my cat at the helm, I had to stop the carnival ride. I knew that my best hope for finding Zak rested on the foottraffic flow of strangers who may or may not stop to read my lost-cat poster, my own plea for help. But what were the statistics on finding your missing cat? I had no idea, but I wanted to give Zak the best possible odds. So when I searched for him-and I searched every day-I carried extra posters and a staple gun. A previously unexplored street would soon have a set of posters with Zaks handsome face tacked to streetlights-on each side of the street. I wasnt leaving anything to chance. During my search, I quickly discovered my psychological borders-what I considered my emotional-neighborhood turf. We all have these emotional maps, whether we realize it or not. Well go to this convenience store, not that one. Well buy our coffee here, not there. We wont cross at these lights, preferring instead the block ahead. Its simple, really. We feel more comfortable in some places than others. Surely that must be true for animals, too. I thought about that as I continued to search for Zak. If he has to be missing, I reasoned, then at least let me find him on a street that felt soothing, a friendly looking street. As crazy as it sounds, I wanted Zak to feel comforted. Maybe on a nice street hed feel less lonely. Yes, I anthropomorphized that Zak had human feelings-mine. I knew the difference between his core animal needs and my human ones, but intellect couldnt stop my worries. I wished I could send a message through mental telepathy. At least hed know that I was frantically looking for him. After five days of searching I understood the importance of the elements. Rain, in particular, posed a threat. Besides worrying that my posters would disintegrate, I worried that Zak was wet and cold. It had rained that morning, so I was out checking the telephone poles to see which posters had survived. Some were perfectly intact, while others were left dangling by a staple. A few had been so ravaged that Zaks likeness resembled an Impressionist painting gone soggy. I had to get to work. The sun pushing through the clouds meant that people would soon be traveling on the sidewalks, and perhaps stopping to read my posters-a crayon drawing of an orange cat. SOS. Nothing worked. The hours drummed by; days and nights passed of not knowing. Dread walked with me. Five days after his disappearance, I gave in. I picked up the phone. "Hello, do you find lost pets? Could I hire you? My cat is missing." I heard silence, followed by the click of a lighter and a long, breathy inhalation of smoke. Then the deep, raspy voice of an elderly woman whod obviously downed some gin in her day replied: "Hes alive!" She exhaled. My nightmare was over? "Really! Really? How do you know?" I was feeling the surge of relief, but I wasnt going to be totally taken in. I had my suspicions. "Hes a beautiful, big cat … orange." She took another drag from her cigarette. "Bushy tail." How did she get his coloring right? How did she know that he was handsome? Pride swooped in. Zak was alive and still good looking. "Hes been gone five days," I said. "Theres a neighborhood kid." Exhale. "A young boy. He knows." My heart sank. "The strange kid next door," I said. "But theyre away. Nobodys seen them for days." "Very friendly, handsome." "Yeah, thats Zaky. Did the boy do something to him?" "The little boy knows." "Is there something else I should know?" "The boy knows." Inhale. "Okay, okay. What do I owe you?" "Nothing." Click. Id made the call after my vision cleared. Id been at my desk crying when I saw the psychics card lying on top of Zaks posters. I had to decide whether contacting the psychic was brilliant or insane. Brilliant meant that I had faith in my ability to think outside the box. Insane meant that I was desperate to believe in magic. It also made me vulnerable to a con job. Its not that Im against creative solutions, but in this case it was the source of the suggestion-a client-who gave me pause. Zak had been my sometimes co-therapist for ten years. I didnt encourage him to enter the field. He chose it himself. When he was a kitten, I spent as much quality time with him as I could, but when it was time to work, I closed my office door. Not one to be put off so easily hed wander down the hall, sit right outside my door, and meow. A lot. Id see his little paws under the crack of the door, but I never stopped the session, knowing hed fall asleep soon enough. Until one day, at the end of a particularly intense exchange, a client burst into laughter. I followed her eyes and saw two little orange front paws-pad sides up-sticking out from under the office door. Apparently, Zak had fallen asleep on his back. And resting on the floor, in between his paws, were two upside down orange ear tips. "Can he come in?" my client asked. He was a great therapy cat; even the cat-hating curmudgeons all thought Zak was "cool." They especially appreciated the way hed escort them to their sessions. Springing onto the hood of a parked car, he would walk across the front windshield and stare at the driver with his big yellow eyes. Hed wait until the client opened the drivers side door and then accompany him or her up the porch stairs and into my home office. Then theyd both sit down-the client on the couch and Zak on the rug. Some of my shy clients would use Zaks presence as a conversational starting point to share how their childhood pets had saved them from feeling lonely. After one woman revealed that she couldnt trim her cats nails, we had a touching session about the pervasive sense of inadequacy she carried with her. She counted her inability to carry out this task (a task that challenges a lot of cat owners), as just one more personal failing. And then there was the time when, over the course of one session, a young woman sobbed so deeply that she lost her breath and started to choke. Zaks ears went back. He made a high-pitched meow and jumped into her lap, covering her stomach with his body. Her breathing softened and she began to pet him. She smiled and said, "Hes trying to help." But after Zak disappeared, as each client arrived for his or her appointment, theyd ask, "Wheres the cat?" I kept my cool at first, but eventually Id stopped answering the question. Id simply wave my lost-cat poster in the air, like it was my turn for show and tell. Kate was the client whod suggested that I call her psychic. An intelligent woman with a lot going for her, she was not, within the context of our therapy sessions, what Id refer to as a "hard worker." Kate almost always took the easy way out, and when she didnt agree with what I had to say, she went to a psychic for a second opinion. I declined when she offered me her psychics services, but at the end of the session, on her way out, she dropped the card on my desk anyway. I had no intention of calling, but a hard cry had washed away my resistance and I was willing to try anything. Besides I needed help, and the psychics credibility had skyrocketed after I learned that we agreed on one fundamental truth-Kates affair would break up her marriage. I dialed. The psychics promise-"Hes alive!"-was still my only clue, and my new neighbors had been identified as material witnesses. Theyd been gone for exactly five days. Zak had been missing exactly five days. Coincidence was on my side. So were my instincts. I never had a great feeling about these neighbors. The husband bulked up on steroids, but despite mountains of muscle he seemed incapable of pushing a lawn mower across his scrawny city yard. His wife chain-smoked and screamed at the kids. Even their son was suspect after he had impulsively chopped down-in my own yard-a small green tree. "It was ugly," he told me. Finding my cat had become a moral imperative. Now that the psychic had given me hope, I hatched a plan. Since there were probably clues inside the neighbors house that would lead me to Zak, Id wait until dark and break in. My role model, Nancy Drew, would have asked one of her chums to be the lookout, so I asked my friend Susan to help. When she said, "Yes," I assumed that she understood I was the lead detective and she was the chum. Chums follow their leader. But when the evening stars began to glow, Susan became anxious. She wanted to call the polic Details ISBN1250049784 Short Title SECRETS OF LOST CATS Language English ISBN-10 1250049784 ISBN-13 9781250049780 Media Book Format Paperback Publisher St. Martins Griffin DEWEY B Illustrations Yes Year 2014 Publication Date 2014-07-22 Subtitle One Woman, Twenty Posters, and a New Understanding of Love Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2014-07-22 NZ Release Date 2014-07-22 US Release Date 2014-07-22 UK Release Date 2014-07-22 Author Dr Nancy Davidson Pages 272 Imprint St. Martins Griffin Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:82225332;

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