Hansen: Dogs win parade but cats rule the world

It all started with the cat lady.

You know the one. When you were 9, and she lived down the street, you used to dare friends to peer into her window and count her cats.

It didn’t matter if there were four or 40 because the myth was legendary. She was different, single, mysterious, probably a witch, and at the very least, crazy.

That stereotype, however, was shattered on May 13 this year when Tara the Hero Cat redeemed all cat owners for eternity. If you are not one of the 23 million people who has seen this Rambo cat save a 4-year-old Bakersfield boy from a brutal dog attack, then do yourself a favor and Google it.

Tara the Hero Cat now does trade show appearances and has a website, Twitter and Instagram accounts.

“I got to see her at the L.A. Feline Film Festival,” said Pamela Knudsen, a volunteer at the Blue Bell Foundation for Cats in Laguna Beach. “She was in a tent, and there was a line wrapped around the event for people to have pictures taken with her. It was crazy.”

There’s that word again.

The notion that some pet owners really love their pets should not be underestimated. Consider the full house on Sunday at the 18th annual Pet Parade and Chili Cook-off, held at Tivoli Too and sponsored by the Laguna Board of Realtors.

The chili was good and all, but people just wanted to see the wacky costumed pets:

• Spaghetti and meatball dog.

• Shark dog.

• Tarantula dog.

• Pink punk poodle.

You can never expect the ordinary when it comes to rabid pet owners. In this age of daily YouTube hijinks, the cinematic potential of something “going viral” has become a cottage industry.

Maru the cat in Japan makes more money than the country’s average worker.

The Internet Cat Video Festival at the Minnesota State Fair attracted more than 11,000 people, which one observer wryly noted was 3,000 more than the Depeche Mode concert at the same venue.

As a culture, we are unquestionably in the throes of a cat frenzy.

This zeal helps Blue Bell, which is formally kicking off a major fundraising event Oct. 12 to improve its facilities that were damaged in the 2010 flood. For details visit https://www.bluebellcats.org.

The facility is different from shelters because people pay for the cats to be housed.

“Blue Bell exists for people who either pass away or have to go to assisted care or some life-altering change where they can no longer care for their cat that they love so much,” Knudsen said. “And they want to ensure that it gets good quality care for the rest of its life.”

The fee is $6,500 but includes lifetime care.

“People say it sounds like a lot. But you have to remember the cat could stay 10, 12, 15 years,” Knudsen said. “And it’s medical, food, housing, so it all adds up. We try to emulate the home environment where the cat came from.”

The Blue Bell Foundation, which started in the 1960s, used to be called the Blue Bell Country Club for Cats. And you can understand why if you visit. It’s a mix between Leisure World and a local Elks Lodge.

It’s fun retirement for cats.

Assistant director Annie Pastorkovich has been working there since 2010 and is quick to point out the bewitching nature of the cats. She knows they have a special language. She sees it in their whisker twitches and tail whips.

“This one is nuts,” she said, pointing to a black-and-white ball of fur sleeping away a warm afternoon. “She’ll let you pet her, then she’ll try to kill you.”

Knudsen admits that cats are quirky but considers that a benefit.

“They have the stigma of being aloof and not very loyal like dogs,” she said. “But what I’ve learned is cats are the same way. It just depends on their personality and how they were raised.

“I think a lot of people who aren’t aware don’t get it. There’s that negative association with cats. But I’m seeing more and more people who are realizing the joy that they bring.”

Knudsen, by the way, has three cats, writes a blog called “Cat Lady in the Canyon” and admits to being called the “cat lady” by neighborhood kids.

“I’ve gotten a lot of snide remarks: ‘Oh, you’re a cat lady; oh, you have three cats; oh you’re single — oh my God.’”

Knudsen shrugs and smiles, letting the comments go.

She knows that if she wanted to, she could cast a spell, but that would be too obvious.

Cats are never obvious.

DAVID HANSEN is a writer and Laguna Beach resident. He can be reached at [email protected].