Welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy it! I hope you laugh, or cry, or think a little bit upon reading what you find here. I hope you visit often. I, in turn, will try to keep up my end of the bargain and post regularly. 
This is my blog and I occasionally swear on it. If you are offended by "strong language", then this is not the blog for you. I often post about my animals. I usually include treatment information to help others who may find themselves in the same situations. If animals bore you or you do not like them, especially cats--this is, after all, called "A Dozen Cats Past Crazy"--then this is not the blog for you.
I have sight-impaired readers and hearing-impaired readers. Visual and Audio posts include transcriptions for them 99% of the time. If it bothers you to read that info, skip it. In addition, I often use "extra" punctuation for my friends using readers. I want everybody to be able to "see" how I've laid out the words.
This is my blog and I occasionally swear on it. If you are offended by "strong language", then this is not the blog for you. I often post about my animals. I usually include treatment information to help others who may find themselves in the same situations. If animals bore you or you do not like them, especially cats--this is, after all, called "A Dozen Cats Past Crazy"--then this is not the blog for you.
I have sight-impaired readers and hearing-impaired readers. Visual and Audio posts include transcriptions for them 99% of the time. If it bothers you to read that info, skip it. In addition, I often use "extra" punctuation for my friends using readers. I want everybody to be able to "see" how I've laid out the words.
I am leaving the Anonymous Comments open for now. Mostly because I welcome comments (it lets me know somebody is reading 
) and I don’t want folks to have to sign up for a Live Journal account in order to post. However, ALL anonymous comments are SCREENED, so any whack job comments will not be seen by anyone but me and will thus be a total waste of time for anyone trying to stir up some drama. 
Legitimate anon comments will be eventually unscreened.
) and I don’t want folks to have to sign up for a Live Journal account in order to post. However, ALL anonymous comments are SCREENED, so any whack job comments will not be seen by anyone but me and will thus be a total waste of time for anyone trying to stir up some drama. Legitimate anon comments will be eventually unscreened.If you do chose to leave an Anonymous Comment, please either sign your name or give me a good clue as to who you are. I like to know who’s “talking” to me. 
If you are the member of an "animal group" who would like to be mentioned here, please send me a private message with a link OR do an anon comment with a link ASKING for me to check out your group.
Please feel free to link to posts from here. However, please do not take my words or images and copy/paste them without permission. With the exception of the emoticons (which I downloaded off of 'free sites'), everything here is mine (unless otherwise noted) and is subject to copyright. I wouldn’t even mention it, but other folks have had problems with this issue.
- Mood:
good - Music:Welcome 2 the Party by Kid Rock
I always dreamed of writing a Great Novel...I DID write a Great Novel, but was unable to get it published.
I dreamed of writing a Great Play, and I did, but it was never produced.
However, some of my most Important, Timeless, Greatest contributions to The World--to the People who Use them and Need them--were three small pieces written from the heart and inspired by our animals. They will never see publication other than "self published" on the net, and yet I have received more feedback about them than anything I HAVE had Publically Published.
My Feline Diabetes Primer about the use of Humulin/fast acting insulin. My Bunny will live forever as long as there are cats using Humulin: Humulin Primer
My blog post about the loss of my cats (I've lost many more since that was updated, and it still comforts ME): When a Kitty Dies
The article about us coming to grips with Jack's passing: The Baby Steps of Grief
ALL are about the voiceless animals that touched my life...and now they have touched Many Lives...
"That which is essential is invisble to the eye".
I've told the story of her torment in the puppy mills, but I haven't said how she came to be with us. Jack had a vet appointment during the clinic's "Open House". We had NOT wanted to go during such chaos, but they offered us several discounts and told us that being the first appointment would assure we missed the masses. When we went to leave, the local rescue, All Rover's Rescue Friends, was setting up and we paused to look at the dogs. Charlie spotted her and I went to talk to her. All the other dogs moved to greet me. Not this one. She cowered in her cage and turned her head--showing me the crater where her left eye used to be. I thought, "This dog has been horribly abused." and I asked the rescue people what happened to her. They told me she was old, that she came in that shape and they had no idea other than that she had been pulled from a puppy mill and WAS going to be put to sleep because, "Who would want her?". They had saved her, certain SOMEBODY would want her.
I cried all the way home thinking about that poor dog and Charlie told me to call, fill out the application, that we would take the poor little thing.
Shelby was NEVER a "doggy dog". She was always more like the feral cats we had rescued in the past. We were patient and kind but, like some of the ferals that never come completely around, Shelby just Couldn't. She enjoyed being petted, but only for brief periods before she became visibly uncomfortable. She was never completely housetrained. We tried putting her in the bed with us and Jack so she could be "part of the pack", but as soon as she realized she could jump down and nobody would scold her, she started leaving the bed to sleep in the space between the bed and the wall on Charlie's side. We bought a dog bed and put it there for her and she seemed quite pleased. It was HERS, it had HER smell and was given to HER.
For the first year or so she had nightmares. She would scream in her sleep and one of us would gently wake her. She was terrified of thunderstorms and we had to make sure one of us was there to comfort her because she would completely LOSE IT during one. The first time Charlie mowed the grass after she had come here...the look of PURE JOY on her face as she rolled in it was worth a million dollars. For the first two YEARS we would have to herd her into the back door because somebody had slammed her tail in a door and left it to die and fall off and it took a long time to build the trust that we would never do such a thing. For the first year she could not completely enjoy our 1/2 acre fenced yard because it was too much space and she would run figure eights (we always said she was herding her invisible sheep) the entire time she was outside--even though Jack would stretch out and sunbathe. She WANTED to lay with him, but it was all too much...
Her first taste of table scraps! She was DELIGHTED. She very quickly learned that Jack got to lick one plate and the other was HERS...if we took too long to eat she would become restless, going crazy with the anticipation of getting to lick the plate. She learned that when the cats got their cans, one was hers to "clean" for recycling and she would come down the hall and rattle her dogtags to "remind me" that she was waiting.
She mostly lived in Her Nook in the bedroom--it's where we kept her water and fed her and where she slept. I suppose we could have forced the issue and MADE her come out more, but it seemed MEAN to do so. It was her comfort level that we always had at heart.
She did wonderful with other dogs--WELCOMED the interaction. We would take her to my mom's with us and she would go in the backyard and "play with the pack"--Jack, Harmony and Buffy--all bigger dogs, but she loved to be with them. When she was inside she would find a secluded corner to hide away from "the people". Nobody pushed it. Her damaged tail, her missing eye, her clubbed foot all gave testiment to WHY she didn't like people...
Like I said, she was never a "doggy dog" like Jack... We didn't expect her to be. The closest she got was this past January. Charlie's birthday is New Years Eve and the man loves shrimp cocktail. I bought a pound and half of shrimp for him. We gave one to Jack, who normally LOVES seafood, but he wasn't interested. "See if Shelby likes it," Charlie suggested. SO, I took a few down the hall to her. She Normally takes VERY few things from my hand, but SHRIMP? She grabbed that! I gave her a few more in her bowl and went back to the kitchen where Charlie and I were playiing a game on the computer. Shortly later we heard a soft whine behind us, then she rattled her collar--her sign to me that she needed to go out, that her water was low, that feeding time was coming, HER SIGN SHE WANTED SOMETHING. We ended up feeding her a ton a shrimp because it was so touching that she liked it enough to Actually ASK for More...
Over the last few days she has had chicken and shrimp and tuna and burger...in fact she stopped getting dog food about 2 weeks ago because she wouldn't eat it. Just like Jack, she decided if she was going to eat at the end, she wanted THE GOOD STUFF not the crap out of a can. Just like Jack, we accommodated her. She is a dog, and her wants and needs are so simple...
SWEET. Groomers, vets, pet sitters, all describe her as Sweet and Shy. She has never tried to bite anyone, despite all the horros that she went through. She simply cowers down and waits for what you will you do to her. THAT is why we didn't go farther with treatment for the cancer. THAT is why somebody will come to our house and help her cross in the very spot her best friend was in when HE crossed 4 months ago...so that there are no strange places or smells or noises. Everything but that one person will be familiar...and Jack will come, I feel him here already, and he will show her the meadows and introduce her to all his friends and she will have two good eyes instead of just one half-blind one, and four good legs instead of three and she will wag her tail--a full, beautiful, bushy tail that is missing NOTHING.
ETA: She did surprise us on another count. As I said, she wasn't much for housetraining. She seldom asked to go out...we let her out when Jack went. Even then you had to pick her up, walk her down the hall and set her outside. Over five years of this got a bit "old". Charlie started setting her down at the end of the hall and I would open the door as she approached. THEN, one day I set her down when I was home alone and ran to reach the door...the storm door doesn't latch. By the time I got there she had let herself out! Not only did she do this forever more, but she taught our puppy 9 how to do it too. *g*
- Mood:
sad - Music:Lightning Crashes by Live
Children also needlessly suffer. What kind of species does not protect its young? You see abuse and neglect and so often the punishment doesn't fit the crime. So often there are repeat offenders. How many children do not receive a sufficient education? How many go to school hungry? They, like the animals, are helpless victims of a society that simply fails to care about anything "weak" or dependent. We pray for mercy from above while we practice pitiless ruthlessness as a general norm.
Compassion and empathy are not difficult to GIVE, they do not lessen you in any way. If I were The Lord/The Goddess, I would be pizzed off too...and disappointed, disgusted, ashamed. We deserve all that we get because, as a race, we have reaped what we have sown. It is only those that make as much difference as they CAN that keep us here. Mother Nature, God, The Goddess, whatever name you use, will eventually END The Plague of Mankind. I, Personally, think it will be an improvement on the World.
- Mood: sad
- Music:You Live What You've Learned by Linkin Park
Jack came into my life after he was only a year old. Until that time he was Charlie's Dawg. He was ALWAYS Charlie's Dawg, but he was my dawg too and he LOVED me...so much that he would have readily given his life for mine without a moment's hesitation.
He was about three when there was a jailbreak at one of the local prisons. They were convicted rapists and armed. Women were told to lock their doors and stay inside. I had errands that HAD to be run. I took Jack. He was better than a loaded gun, because a gun MIGHT (although doubtfully) be wrestled from me, Jack was PURE defense and NOTHING would stop him. When he yawned it looked like his entire skull split into sharp white teeth and when he was protecting you, he was much more scary than the barrel of any weapon. I would not have to reach for my gun, one cry of distress and he would come through walls or windows in a fury...I had NO fear.
One day he got OLD. One day I realized that despite his courage and love, his body would not let him protect me. I was still unafraid.
When Jack was a young dog he started acting afraid around children. He had always loved EVERYONE and we were concerned. A little boy in the apartment complex (BLESS HIM!) came and told me this girl Amber, who also lived there, liked to torment animals and our dog was her latest target. We didn't let him out without us until the weekend when we could be home. We laid a trap. We let him out and sat watching t.v. with the screen open on the doorwall so we could listen....
"Look, there he is..."
*sound of several small footsteps and whispers*
"Get that stick over there. It's nice and BIG...ok, now hit him with it..."
Charlie moved to get up...I jumped over him like he was a track hurdle and was OUT the door...
"AMBER," I hissed. "If you EVER come NEAR my dog again I WILL be talking to your mother..."
They ran. I'm sure I looked insane because I FELT insane...
"I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!!!!!" I shouted after them.
They never came back.
I knew Jack would TRY to protect me. "They" would hurt him because he was no longer strong. I was still not afraid. I knew if they hurt HIM they would then have to deal with ME. Not a scared me, a pissed off full of rage Protecting My Baby Boy Me...something Made of adrenaline, with No fear, only fury.
Now we have 9. He is small and a puppy and needs reassurance. He looks at us with Absolute Trust and Love...
Right now we protect him. I look at those eyes and feel those emotions FLOWING from him through every centimeter of my body. He is so small and innocent...
now...
if somebody hurt him he is defenseless and I would cheerfully rip such person into shreds with my bare hands, just as I would have for Jack...
now...
but one day he will be the same powerhouse of devotion and muscle that Jack was for over a decade.
One day I will no longer be the Momma Bear, but The Momma
Again...
- Mood:
grateful - Music:"The Power of Love" by Huey Lewis & the News
We bleed often. He was Our Child. He was like living with another person. Each time one of us wakes in the night, we automatically feel for the dog that SHOULD be in the bed. I put a pillow in his spot the first few nights so our searching legs would find SOMETHING, some mass where one Belonged. It only works as long as you are mostly asleep. If you come full awake, which Charlie and I both seem to do several times a night now, the illusion vanishes very quickly. You reach to stroke that soft warm head to help yourself go back to sleep...and there is nothing.
I have seen him three times since he left. The first was Wednesday. I came out of the office and There He Was, lying by the door waiting for me like a thousand times before. Plain as day. And then I blinked and he was GONE. Thursday I made frozen pizza for dinner. I always add extra cheese. Jack ALWAYS stood at the edge of the kitchen when I was making dinner. Some people believe in "The 5-Second Rule". In this house it was a little different than the standard definition I've linked to: HERE you had FIVE SECONDS TO GRAB IT OR IT WAS JACK'S. One time grilling Charlie dropped a hotdog. Jack was ON IT in less than five seconds, despite everything going into slow motion and us both yelling "NOOO" because we knew it would burn him. He grabbed it, yelped, dropped it, grabbed it again, yelped, grabbed it again and held it in his mouth panting to cool it off...he was a Food Hound. He stood at the edge of the kitchen Knowing he was not supposed to be in there when I was cooking, but Waiting for Anything to hit that floor. He was there Thursday. I automatically uttered my standard, "Why are you in the kitchen? Get out of my kitchen..." and he DID...he vanished into thin air. The third time was Saturday. I heard him moving in the hall and when I looked it was just in time to see his back half going into the living-room. Solid and Plain as Day.
I've been having nightmares. I am sometimes prone to night terrors--have been all my life. I had one Saturday night. I woke up for all intents and purposes, but I was still asleep and dreaming and in a nightmare. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, after a dream-bout with a serial killer I opened my eyes to a shadowy figure leaning over my sleeping husband and a flash as they took a picture of his face. I screamed. I screamed in Pure Terror and I called out not for my mommy, but my dog. DOG would have Never let anyone hurt us and I called to him...it was instinct that if Charlie was in danger, Jack-the-Wonder-Puppy would protect us both. I didn't even realize I had called the dog, Charlie told me later.
I have not cooked a real meal since the day before he left. We have no appetites, we eat ONLY because our bodies DEMAND it. But that's not the reason, at least not the entire one. You see, he always licked the bowl. Cake batter, casseroles, the pot the cheesy green beans were cooked in...once we were finished and whatever leftovers were put away, the cooking vessel Belonged To Jack. He would stand at the edge of the kitchen and wait for it. He almost always ate hours before us--feeding time is 4:30 and NOBODY lets me forget it. He Always got a bite from our plates. But he Expected to "clean" the pot or pan, he looked forward to and enjoyed it and it was an Always. If there were cooked on bits of cheese all the better. He would spend HOURS worrying that dish. He was smart about it too. He would work it into a corner or hold it between his paws so that he wasn't scooting it all over the floor like an idiot. Tonight I have a casserole planned, and I know that after it's finished, and the leftovers are stored, Charlie and I will weep.
I have not cooked a real meal since the day before he left. We have no appetites, we eat ONLY because our bodies DEMAND it. But that's not the reason, at least not the entire one. You see, he always licked the bowl. Cake batter, casseroles, the pot the cheesy green beans were cooked in...once we were finished and whatever leftovers were put away, the cooking vessel Belonged To Jack. He would stand at the edge of the kitchen and wait for it. He almost always ate hours before us--feeding time is 4:30 and NOBODY lets me forget it. He Always got a bite from our plates. But he Expected to "clean" the pot or pan, he looked forward to and enjoyed it and it was an Always. If there were cooked on bits of cheese all the better. He would spend HOURS worrying that dish. He was smart about it too. He would work it into a corner or hold it between his paws so that he wasn't scooting it all over the floor like an idiot. Tonight I have a casserole planned, and I know that after it's finished, and the leftovers are stored, Charlie and I will weep.
- Mood:
LOST - Music:"One More Day" by Diamond Rio
In 2002 we found Riley. He was small, scared, cold and hungry abandoned on a very busy street in a tourist town. When we brought him home he was so happy and excited to see other cats. The first two he saw were Asp and Queen sleeping on the bed together. He RAN to them and it was like watching a toddler run up and hung a big person's legs. THEY were not so happy...at first. Within 24 hours they had decided we had got them a kitten. They coddled him and raised him. Until he came unglued over Bunny's death, Riley belonged to the other cats, NOT us. He wanted nothing to do with us, just them. When Riley was at the vets, it was Asp I took to stay with him to try to draw him back. Asp had not seen Riley in a month (that's how long he had been at the clinic) but as soon as he saw him, he ran to him and kissed his head. He had his kitten back.
In 2004 Aradia went missing. We put posters up EVERYWHERE. We called all the clinics and shelters. We walked Jack through the streets calling and looking. She was a gone for a month. We were, by that point, sure we would never see her again...and then one day she trotted up the drive. She was FAT, for the first and only time in her life, so they must have given her food she really liked and a lot of it. BUT, she came home. She escaped where she was and came home. I had seen her over and over throughout the house before that, a doppelganger because she wanted to be HERE, with HER people and HER dog.
A year later, when Sam was dying (we were fighting, FIGHTING to save him) we contacted a pet psychic we had used in the past. During the reading she had to excuse herself because of her dogs. When she came back she apologized to Sam and me and explained individually to us WHY she had to momentarily stop the reading--her dogs were being food hounds. I laughed when she told me because Jack was a beagle and a Consummate Food Hound. What she told me next floored me. SAM was amused. What SAM had told her was, "I have a dog, too. He does silly things like that sometimes, too." I did not have a FaceBook or a blog at that time. I had never mentioned Jack to her. This was her fourth reading for us and all the others had been CATS. There was NO way she could have known there was a dog here...unless Sam told her.
"I have a dog."
WOW.
Because I KNEW Jack thought HE had cats.
In 2004 Aradia went missing. We put posters up EVERYWHERE. We called all the clinics and shelters. We walked Jack through the streets calling and looking. She was a gone for a month. We were, by that point, sure we would never see her again...and then one day she trotted up the drive. She was FAT, for the first and only time in her life, so they must have given her food she really liked and a lot of it. BUT, she came home. She escaped where she was and came home. I had seen her over and over throughout the house before that, a doppelganger because she wanted to be HERE, with HER people and HER dog.
A year later, when Sam was dying (we were fighting, FIGHTING to save him) we contacted a pet psychic we had used in the past. During the reading she had to excuse herself because of her dogs. When she came back she apologized to Sam and me and explained individually to us WHY she had to momentarily stop the reading--her dogs were being food hounds. I laughed when she told me because Jack was a beagle and a Consummate Food Hound. What she told me next floored me. SAM was amused. What SAM had told her was, "I have a dog, too. He does silly things like that sometimes, too." I did not have a FaceBook or a blog at that time. I had never mentioned Jack to her. This was her fourth reading for us and all the others had been CATS. There was NO way she could have known there was a dog here...unless Sam told her.
"I have a dog."
WOW.
Because I KNEW Jack thought HE had cats.
It has changed my perspective forever.
When we got Woody he was sick and injured. He needed to be quarantined. Kitty, who was FelV+ was already living in the bathroom. We moved him into the spare room where our pigeon, Lou, lived. We HOPED he wouldn't bother the bird. Our fears were unwarranted. They became the best of friends. When I opened her cage to feed her or clean it, Kitty often hopped inside and laid down with her. I REALLY wish I had been able to get a picture of that, but he didn't do it EVERY time and I didn't want to leave them alone. When he was living on his own he would bring me dead birds as a thank you for feeding him, I didn't want instinct to perhaps override...
When Kitty died it was in my arms, in that room, with Lou screaming. When I saw him I knew all I could do was hold him, that we would NOT make the vet clinic. It happened very fast. SHE was devastated. She attacked me every time I opened the cage for MONTHS, like she thought I had killed her cat.
In our arrogance as "humans" we THINK that we pick our pets and that they belong to us. The TRUTH is that They Pick Us just as much as We Pick Them. WE "belong" to them, are owned by them, as much as we THINK they are owned by us...maybe even more.
***ARADIA thought they were HER kittens. We had only recently gotten her spayed and she wanted a baby AND a toy/playmate.
ETA:
I MUST add Miss Bisby to this story. Bisby was a foundling kitten my sister and I conspired to bring home. She loved my sister and me, but she was REALLY my Brother's Cat...or he was her boy. When he was 18 he enlisted. Rodger was gone for two years overseas. When he came home the cat immediately glued herself to him. Bisby was Terrified of strangers. She Remembered him, Who he was...despite all that time...HER boy had returned.
The sadder side of my brother leaving is The Bomber. He had an iguana that he had raised from a baby. She was about 6-feet long when he left. He couldn't take her, but had her get a full physical before he left. We took care of her, played with her, petted her (she would press up against your hand, just like a cat), fed her...but she just DIED. She had lost her person, and it was more than she could bear.
ETA:
I MUST add Miss Bisby to this story. Bisby was a foundling kitten my sister and I conspired to bring home. She loved my sister and me, but she was REALLY my Brother's Cat...or he was her boy. When he was 18 he enlisted. Rodger was gone for two years overseas. When he came home the cat immediately glued herself to him. Bisby was Terrified of strangers. She Remembered him, Who he was...despite all that time...HER boy had returned.
The sadder side of my brother leaving is The Bomber. He had an iguana that he had raised from a baby. She was about 6-feet long when he left. He couldn't take her, but had her get a full physical before he left. We took care of her, played with her, petted her (she would press up against your hand, just like a cat), fed her...but she just DIED. She had lost her person, and it was more than she could bear.
- Mood:
thoughtful - Music:"Ordinary World" by Red
WHY?
Because you could at least buy me dinner and a movie before... YOU F*CK ME.
The next time I pay my taxes, which is EVERY MONTH--business & personal, the State & Feds will be informed they owe me a tube of lipstick or a voucher with which I can purchase one.
WHY?
Because I want to look pretty before... YOU F*CK ME.
I am also going to rally for a new Law, one that Requires lotion dispensers at every gas pump.
WHY?
Because you can at least provide some lubrication before... YOU F*CK ME.
- Mood:
devious - Music:"Wake Up" by Rage Against the Machine
It was a good point.
I had no answer.
Yes, I had read the posts from soldiers talking about "their" animals--how they met, what it meant to them to have this companion, what the animal had done for them and their platoons... However, it really didn't hit home...it just felt good to know you were helping soldiers and animals at the same time.
What you need to understand is that ALL military regulation discourages (to put it lightly) adopting pets. Our soldiers are supposed to be Killing-Machines-for-Victory. The fact that they are not, that they are Compassionate and Human, to me, is a good thing. However, as far as WAR they would be more effective as SIM characters. THUS, compassion and humanitarian are Against Regulations. *ahem*
The other night I was watching an episode of Must Love Cats that was in the DVR. The episode was about a marine stationed in the middle east who had been out on a mission that went "wrong". Members of her platoon DIED. Again, I need to emphasize this is a platoon. Yes, we all have coworkers and we depend on them for various things such as taking a proper message to helping us with our power-point presentation. This is a PLATOON in ACTIVE DUTY. You don't just spend every day with these people sharing lunch and time to get your paycheck--your LIFE is in their hands, their LIFE is in yours. LIFE. Families devastated because of the loss of a spouse and children growing up missing a parent, mothers who have lost a son/daughter... Bob isn't going to DIE if you screwed up and didn't get his papers collated proper... Mike DID die because you didn't get your gun up quick enough. THEIR life is soooo different from ours. People DIED on this mission. She was Wrecked--understandably.
She's back at base, trying to piece herself back together...missing home, missing her husband, her kids, her parents, her cats...
and...
out of nowhere...
comes...
A CAT.
He is in her face, meowing, his golden eyes telling her he knows she needs him and he is here on HIS mission...
because if you pray, consciously or subconsciously, SOMETIMES you get an answer...
and He IS the answer...
I will heal your heart. I will help you Keep Going until your tour of duty is done...
Against Regulations, she fed the cat and slept with the cat and LOVED the cat...because he Saved Her. He was the glue to mend her mind, her spirit, her soul against all the horror a soldier sees. She is a MARINE and she cried while she told this. He SAVED her, and, like all Good Marines, NOBODY GETS LEFT BEHIND...
She contacted a U.S. group that risks their lives to bring the animals that our soldiers find and grow to love HOME...
I have cried several times writing this. To be so far from Home...away from all that is familiar and all who you love, stranded in a sandy sea of despair and destruction...and you find a furry oasis...something that Loves and Needs and doesn't fear or mean Any harm...it is a GIFT. It is Kismet, Fate, whatever....
to ask them to lay their lives on the line daily for little pay, leaving their families far away at home, and tell them that they cannot bring back a creature that has touched and sustained them, that would be more than wrong. Throughout history our military has been under appreciated, under recognized, underpaid, under taken care of...PLEASE DO NOT ADD TO THE WRONGS...
Studies have shown the affect that animals have on human mental and physical well-being. Regulations need to change. AND, we need to help these soldiers bring home these animals that have helped them...
- Mood:
determined - Music:Serenity by Godsmack
and then..
within Two Weeks
TOPS
One or MORE of the following happens:
Your car breaks down
A major appliance suddenly Dies
The roof starts leaking
One (or more) of your kids/pets gets sick and the bill is Outrageous
Your hot water heater or furnace Dies
You get laid off or, if you are self-employed, work dries up, or your hours get cut--no more overtime
You get laid off or, if you are self-employed, work dries up, or your hours get cut--no more overtime
You get sick or injured and you must take medical leave
*Insert some other costly and unexpected event here...use your imagination!*
- Mood:
pessimistic - Music:Ironic by Alanis Morissette
It's currently Mercury Retrograde***. For those familiar with the term, I know you are shuddering. For those unfamiliar: The moon is proven to have an affect on behavior and tides. So do the other planets. Mercury is the asshole of the astrology system in that when it goes retrograde it causes havoc with travel, communications, electronics, sleep, dreams...and it tends to spit things up from out of the Past. The veils of Time are thinner, the walls that separate plains are not so solid.
Cats are Experts at hiding. They can seemingly Vanish and we have always said, half joking, that they go "somewhere else" when this happens...Narnia? Wonderland? Who knows? In any case, they are also experts at hiding objects. I have found Christmas ornaments in the middle of the living room in July. We haven't put up a tree in five years. This is AFTER I have Moved Furniture to vacuum. It wasn't there, then it was. I KNOW it's because one of the cats hid it and then decided to pull it out.
Our cats get fuzzy toys. They like to carry them around and talk to them. The one most known for it was our late beloved Queen. She always mothered the Real babies we brought home and once she didn't have any babies she carried the toys. However, all of them do it from time to time.
Last night I can hear somebody talking to a baby. I can tell it's in their mouth. I can tell they are getting closer and I turn on the light to see who...
It's Joey. It's a toy I've never seen.
He's very proud of it and pleased I've turned on the light to view his find and he yowls for a few moments at me with his mouthful before dropping it and climbing into bed to curl in his usual place in my lap.
It's a toy I've never seen.
I am trying to figure out WHERE he got this...is it something I bought years ago and it disappeared so I forgot it? It DOES resemble one of those mice that you can purchase that are made with a cover of real fur, except the plastic mouse part is gone and all that remains is fur. We have dogs who delight in stripping the fur off of these mice, but I can't remember every purchasing one so LARGE....
Joey gets up and I immediately climb out of bed to investigate....
Rowan was a Ragdoll. She Should have been brushed, but never tolerated it well. The result was that we often had to shave hair mats off her. What Joey brought me was one of those. They were never close, so I don't know why he picked it up. It HAD to have been fished out of the trash bucket...a long time ago, as she has been gone for a year and a half. Where it's been hiding, how he found it, what possessed him to bring it to me and why he was so pleased to have it will remain a mystery as he is NOT talking....
***I am Aries cusp HARDCORE so this round with MR is especially trying for me...
BTW, Rowan was NOT "my cat" she was Charlie's. VERY much a Daddy's Girl, and she and Joey fought continuous. ODD.
- Mood:
indescribable - Music:Secret Journey by The Police
Today's post is about FaceBook and the fact that the developers/administrators seem to have this overwhelming URGE to constantly go against the age-old proverb "if it ain't broke, don't fix it". I sincerely hope Zuckerberg and his team read this!
People do not like change, but if it's an improvement, most people get used to it. However, change just for the sake of change is moronic and counterproductive. In addition, the FaceBook team needs to look up the definition of "improvement" as they obviously do not grasp the term.
"A person or thing that represents an advance on another in excellence or achievement: The new landlord is a great improvement over his greedy predecessor."
"Bringing into a more valuable or desirable condition, as of land or real property; betterment."
What you keep doing is NOT desirable. At least 75% of FB subscribers participate in your game applications. Every time you start monkeying with FB formats it messes up the applications. Peoples' games do not load properly. This pizzes them off. In addition, the game administrators are unhappy because they are not only getting tons of complaints, but people are not spending the money they usually do on the games--money YOU get a cut of, so it's hurting you financially as well.
A while back you decided for us that we didn't want/need our status updates at the top of our pages. This makes zero sense. I don't know anyone who likes the fact that if they miss an update in the homepage feed they have to hunt around on somebody's page to find it. It's a Social Network Site, you encourage people to meet and add as may people as possible but make it more difficult for them to "stay connected".
The changes are CONSTANT. It doesn't matter that everyone has just adjusted to the last change, you CHANGE AGAIN. You are like an adolescent boy with his first girlfriend who will let him play with her boobs. You just CAN'T STOP YOURSELF, and you THINK you are making her happy and pleasuring her, but REALLY you are annoying her and making her very sore. The subscribers, like the poor girl, keep Trying to tell you what you should and should Not be doing, but you don't listen, you seem to be focused on what is making you happy--your obsession with awkwardly tinkering, toying, tweaking. EITHER GET YOUR SHITE TOGETHER AND DO IT RIGHT OR LEAVE THE POOR BOOBS ALONE!!!
What you keep doing is NOT desirable. At least 75% of FB subscribers participate in your game applications. Every time you start monkeying with FB formats it messes up the applications. Peoples' games do not load properly. This pizzes them off. In addition, the game administrators are unhappy because they are not only getting tons of complaints, but people are not spending the money they usually do on the games--money YOU get a cut of, so it's hurting you financially as well.
A while back you decided for us that we didn't want/need our status updates at the top of our pages. This makes zero sense. I don't know anyone who likes the fact that if they miss an update in the homepage feed they have to hunt around on somebody's page to find it. It's a Social Network Site, you encourage people to meet and add as may people as possible but make it more difficult for them to "stay connected".
The changes are CONSTANT. It doesn't matter that everyone has just adjusted to the last change, you CHANGE AGAIN. You are like an adolescent boy with his first girlfriend who will let him play with her boobs. You just CAN'T STOP YOURSELF, and you THINK you are making her happy and pleasuring her, but REALLY you are annoying her and making her very sore. The subscribers, like the poor girl, keep Trying to tell you what you should and should Not be doing, but you don't listen, you seem to be focused on what is making you happy--your obsession with awkwardly tinkering, toying, tweaking. EITHER GET YOUR SHITE TOGETHER AND DO IT RIGHT OR LEAVE THE POOR BOOBS ALONE!!!
- Mood:
aggravated - Music:"Stop In the Name of Love" by the Supremes
This morning I received the following private message from one of my Feline Diabetes Message Board friends:
I just got an email from someone fostering two FDs in that area, she's been working on this too. She says that Winkie has been spared and is out of the shelter. No other details.
- Mood:
busy
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