This is my entry in the Friends Fur Life Blogathon hosted by Hamlette's Soliloquy and yours truly.

Who is "Orangey", you may ask?

The big stars in the animal world start with the hero dogs, like Rin TinTin or Strongheart or Lassie. Or even, (God help us), Benji.  Naturally dogs are near and dear to the hearts of many human pet owners, so it stands to reason that, at least in the early days of film, dogs could be reigning box office champions.

Also on the list of animal stars are horses.  The first that probably come to mind for most of us are Silver and Scout, the mounts for The Lone Ranger and Tonto, respectively.  Or maybe Roy Rogers' steed, Trigger. Some of the more nostalgic may think of Rex the Wonder Horse.

Of course, neither of those previous listings are all-inclusive. There are many others that might come to mind.  But let me posit a question: when I say "cats in movies", what famous cats come to mind. If you are like me, probably none, right off the bat.  Disney put out many, many movies that featured cats, but I could not think of even one by name.

Then I started to watch a few old sci-fi movies, and noticed that one cat looked like the same cat in them.  Some research had to be done, because, unlike some of the dogs and horses mentioned, the cat did not receive a credit.  But thanks to the internet I did discover that cat had a name. Orangey (or Orangey Minerva).

Orangey had one hell of a career in film, appearing in almost a dozen movies and several guest spots on TV shows. He lived for 17 years, the pet of an animal trainer named Frank Inn. His first film appearance was as a star (take that, Hollywood headliners). He appeared in the movie Rhubarb, as a cat who, through the will of his former owner, inherited a baseball team. In the film's early portion, the cat is a rough and ready stray who is not afraid to start a fight, even with dogs.  The owner names him Rhubarb, which was a slang term referring to on-field arguments or brawls on the baseball diamond.

The comedy starred Ray Milland and the team, as tropes of sports teams in comedy film usually are, is at the bottom of the league and the laughingstock of everyone else, even more so as it becomes public that their new owner is not of the human variety.  And, as also a trope, the team starts winning not long after the transfer of ownership.

My first experience in seeing Orangey, though, was in science fiction films, since that has always been my meat and potatoes.  In The Incredible Shrinking Man, Orangey had an incredibly intense and riveting scene with the star of the movie, Grant Williams (as Scott Carey, who has been gradually shrinking in size due to contact with a mysterious cloud/mist.  Orangey apparently thinks Scott is a new kind of mouse and chases him into the dollhouse of his daughter.

Orangey got to play another oversize cat in Village of the Giants as the result of eating some manufactured chemical substance created by a local nerdy science student. But most of the rest of his acting career he played normal sized cats who were companions of the main (or sometimes subsidiary) characters.

In Breakfast at Tiffany's, he played Holly Golightly's boon companion. 

He was Neutron, the pet of a scientist in This Island Earth.  

And along with Vincent Price, Boris Karloff and Peter Lorre (a horror Trifecta if there ever was one), Orangey played Cleopatra  in The Comedy of Terrors.

But Orangey also had a TV career.  In the TV version of Our Miss Brooks, he had a recurring role as Miss Brooks' house cat Minerva. (Obviously gender identity was not a problem for Orangey...)  

 Orangey also had guest roles on such shows as The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Beverly Hillbillies, and My Favorite Martian.

One of the last appearances by Orangey was as the companion of Catwoman (Eartha Kitt) in the third season of the 60's TV series Batman.  

All in all, Orangey had, at least according to IMDb, a credit list of 38 appearances in movies and TV.  He also had the honor of being the only two-time winner of the PATSY. (That stands for Picture Animal Top Star of the Year, an award that was given out from the American Humane Association from 1951 to 1976). Orangey won the second ever PATSY award in 1952 for the aforementioned Rhubarb, and then won it again in 1961 for his role in Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Orangey passed away at the ripe old age of 17 and was ensconced in that final resting place for many of Hollywood's elite, Forest Lawn Memorial Park. But like many stars of old, he still lives on in memories of such great films.  If ever there was a cat that deserved a star on Hollywood's Walk Of Fame, it would be him. (Note: Only three animals or on the Walk of Fame, and they are all dogs; Lassie, Rin Tin Tin and Strongheart.  I won't get on a soapbox about it, but I think there ought to be several others.)

This post is dedicated to Pennie (2008-2023), a true companion of my own, not a star in Hollywood, but a star in my heart.

Quiggy

 Been a long time, folks.  This confounded crisis has taken the motivation out of me something fierce.  No, I haven't been sick, not even one day.  That might have given me the inspiration to watch a ton of movies and do reviews.  No, my problem was just an apathy for doing much of anything.  My apologies to those who have been waiting.  I plan to get going again in the next week or so on movies.  But for now I will tantalize you with a book review.

Joe Bob Briggs Goes to the Drive-In (1987) and Joe Bob Briggs Goes Back to the Drive-In (1990):

In 1982, a college friend of mine invited me to move in with him and help deliver The Dallas Times Herald to residents in a small north Texas town.  Delivering a paper a few hours a day was a nice way to earn a living back in those days.  Especially since I was entirely unmotivated to do much of any real strenuous work.

One of the benefits of delivering the paper was there was always an extra copy or two to take home.  I admit I wasn't much interested in the world at that time.  But I did enjoy reading the supplements about culture.  On Fridays the weekend section always had reviews of movies that were currently in release.  And one of the features was a section written by one of the writers, John Bloom.  He adopted a persona named Joe Bob Briggs to write about the drive-in movies of the day.

Drive-ins, in case you are a neophyte to the halcyon days of bygone years, were these monolithic venues that showed movies outdoors.   And the typical fare was not exactly Oscar material.  If you've seen some of my earlier work you know I have addressed some pretty outre movies (such as the one I wrote last year for my 5th anniversary post; Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman  and The Amazing Colossal Man).  

Drive-in movies were pretty much horror, sci-fi, and crime run rampant types of movies.  Joe Bob Briggs would review these movies, giving them a rating of 1 to 4 stars, depending on a number of elements that were present in the movies (naked breasts counts, the amount of blood that flowed, how much kung fu was used, car chases, dead body counts etc.)

The great thing about Joe Bob Briggs' column was also the insight he gave in his own private life.  None of the people were any more real than Joe Bob was (he was all in the mind of his creator, Bloom, after all.)  But the stories were funny in their own way.  You ought to know, however, that Joe Bob Briggs would probably never get in print in today's repressive PC society, however.  He even had his own run-ins with the "high sheriffs" (the editors) even in his own day.  Reading Joe Bob today is still a guilty thrill for those of us who can appreciate his wit, though.

Joe  Bob got into trouble finally with his un-PC attitude when he made some disparaging remarks and got canned at The Dallas Times Herald, but he just went underground.  He continued on as syndicated columnist for several years afterwards and even transitioned to film, hosting a midnight drive-in show on TV where they would air some of those same types of flicks on TNT.  

I used to have a letter that Joe Bob sent to me.  I wrote to him once back in 1983, and he responded with a personal letter. (For all I know it may have been a form letter he sent out to all his correspondents.  I can't remember, and I no longer have the letter; it got lost in all the moves I made over the years.)

Anyway, the two books listed above are a collection of his newspaper columns over the years that he wrote it.  You get some insight into various hangers-on in his world, including his women (Vida Stegall, Cherry Findlay, ) and his buddies (like Chubb Fricke and Rhett ).  Plus a review of a current movie in release that week that was of such quality that it could only been shown at drive-ins.  (Joe Bob called the normal fare "indoor bullstuff", ie your current Oscar eligible movies.)  Nothing at the drive-in would qualify for even being considered Oscar material.  That, of course, didn't deter Joe Bob.  He even created his own award, the Hubbies (a hubcap with the award engraved upon it) for such accomplishments as Best Breasts, Best Kung-Fu etc.

Both of these books are, sadly, out-of-print.  Amazon has copies going for hundreds of dollars each.  They are obviously collectors items.  I happen to have bought both when they were still within my budget (the list price for the first run).  And, no, before you ask, you can't borrow mine.  Although if you happen to be visiting I'm not so anal that I won't let you browse them... 

I appreciate the kinds of movies that were the steak and potatoes of Joe Bob and his regular readers. And when I finally get back to writing this blog I plan on getting back to the drive-in fare for which this blog was originally created.  In the meantime, haunt your local bookstores or more freedom minded libraries to see if you can find these gems.

Quiggy