And someday soon I will tell the story of "Rio and the Jingleball" or "Near Death Experience First Thing in the Morning..."
Friday, May 16, 2008
Rio's safety tip, "Never play with cats toys"!
And someday soon I will tell the story of "Rio and the Jingleball" or "Near Death Experience First Thing in the Morning..."
needing some humor, passing this along...
I can't recall where this came from to begin with (if anyone does, please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due). This is one of the most hilarious dog related bits I've ever read. It is long, but take the time as it is most certainly worth it.
edited: ah-ha! found it http://littera-abactor.livejournal.com/7748.html
My thanks go out to the "Minion of the Universe" http://littera-abactor.livejournal.com/profile
...any lab owners out there?
Dog: I is starving.
Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone.
Dog: STARVING.
Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving.
Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE.
Me: I am now ignoring you.
Dog: STARVING.
Dog: Did you hear me? I is starving.
Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.
[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]
[From the kitchen, there comes a noise like someone is eating a baseball bat.]
Me, yelling: What the hell are you doing?
Me: *makes haste for the kitchen and finds dog there*
Dog: *picks up entire raw sweet potato, which is what was causing the baseball bat noise, and flees for the bedroom*
Me: *chases dog, retrieves most of sweet potato, less the portion which has disappeared into dog's gullet*
Dog: See? STARVING.
Me: ...That can't be good for you. It's a RAW SWEET POTATO.
Dog: I had to do it. I haven't been fed. Ever.
Me: You realize you aren't normal. Normal dogs don't steal raw sweet potatoes.
Dog, sadly: I was badly brought up.
Me: Yes. Yes, you were.
Dog: By people who starved me.
Me: Oh, no. I am not doing this again.
Me: *exits the room, bearing sweet potato*
[There is a pause.]
[There is a noise like someone is trying to eat a baseball bat very very quietly.]
Me: Oh, for the love of GOD.
Me: *heads off to the kitchen*
Dog: I am not eating a raw sweet potato.
Me: You have sweet potato parts all over your snout.
Dog: But you don't actually SEE a raw sweet potato, do you? So maybe that's just - um. A birthmark.
Me: Did you seriously eat a whole sweet potato?
Dog: You don't listen. I told you, I wasn't eating a sweet potato.
Me, searching around fruitlessly: Look. NO MORE SWEET POTATOES.
Me: Oh, what am I saying? This is you we're talking about, here. *goes to hide all the sweet potatoes that are left - which isn't many - in the fridge, because some people cannot be trusted*
Dog: *attempts to look thwarted*
Dog: *does not succeed, because her tail is wagging so hard small cyclones are forming in the kitchen*
Me: *has a very bad feeling about this*
[There is a pause, during which I do not even bother trying to return to what I was doing. I just stand in the computer room, waiting.]
[There is, as I wholly expected, a baseball-bat-eating noise.]
Me, stomping back to the kitchen: OKAY. GIVE ME THE DAMNED SWEET POTATO.
Dog, looking up guiltily: What sweet potato?
Me: THE ONE IN YOUR MOUTH.
Dog: Oh, did you want this? I just, um. Found it. Lying here.
Me: *confiscates the sweet potato and deposits it in the locking trashcan*
Me: Let us say no more about this.
Dog: ...Nooooo! They be stealin' my sweet potato!
[I attempt to remember what I was doing before the sweet potato episode.]
[Some ten minutes later, I succeed, and return to it.]
[NOT ONE MINUTE LATER, I hear a noise with which I have become all too familiar.]
Me, bonking head on desk: Arg.
Me, arriving in kitchen: How did you even get another sweet potato?
Dog, smugly: I have my ways.
Me: Are you punishing me for being away for several days? I was at a FUNERAL, you know. It wasn't FUN.
Dog: How would I know? You didn't take me. You left me here with only one human to look after my needs. One human is NOT ENOUGH.
Me: *shuts dog in bedroom, conducts a sweep of the kitchen to track down all remaining sweet potatoes, wipes up random sweet potato particles from floor, eradicates all traces of sweet potato from house*
Me: *lets dog out*
Dog, sulkily: Oh, so you think you've won.
[I watch her go about her business with the same sense of overwhelming doom that heroines of Victorian novels get when they meet Count Sinistrus Grimblack for the first time.]
[Half an hour later, there is a wetter, juicier eating noise, as though someone was eating a very moist baseball bat.]
Me, wearily: What NOW?
Dog, hunched over the remains of a butternut squash: *says something garbled because her mouth is full*
Me: Okay. Fine.
Me: *stomps over, empties entire vegetable bowl into trash*
Me: WE JUST WON'T HAVE ANY ROOT VEGETABLES ANYMORE. THERE. ARE YOU HAPPY?
Dog: I'm not even remotely sorry. I told you I was hungry. And you went to a funeral without me.
Me: ARRRRRRRRG.
[A half-hour later, there is another baseball-bat-eating noise from the kitchen. The dog, who apparently does not know how to win gracefully, has found another sweet potato, or possibly caused one to materialize from the Rift.]
Me, hauling chewed sweet potato parts from the mouth of a dog very reluctant to part with them: Oh my god how is this my life?
Dog: Don't you think it would just be easier to feed me?
Me: EVERYONE GO TO THE BEDROOM AND STAY THERE. EAT NOTHING.
Dog: Actually, I feel...um...not so good.
Dog: *throws up* *vomit is very bright orange*
[Unfortunate details ensue.]
Some time later:
Me, attempting to rescue something from the wreckage: So. What have we learned from this?
Dog: Sweet potatoes are yummy!
Other Dog, looking thoughtful: I should pay more attention to crunching noises. Sweet potatoes are probably yummy.
Me: I need a lobotomy.
edited: ah-ha! found it http://littera-abactor.livejournal.com/7748.html
My thanks go out to the "Minion of the Universe" http://littera-abactor.livejournal.com/profile
...any lab owners out there?
Dog: I is starving.
Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone.
Dog: STARVING.
Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving.
Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE.
Me: I am now ignoring you.
Dog: STARVING.
Dog: Did you hear me? I is starving.
Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.
[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]
[From the kitchen, there comes a noise like someone is eating a baseball bat.]
Me, yelling: What the hell are you doing?
Me: *makes haste for the kitchen and finds dog there*
Dog: *picks up entire raw sweet potato, which is what was causing the baseball bat noise, and flees for the bedroom*
Me: *chases dog, retrieves most of sweet potato, less the portion which has disappeared into dog's gullet*
Dog: See? STARVING.
Me: ...That can't be good for you. It's a RAW SWEET POTATO.
Dog: I had to do it. I haven't been fed. Ever.
Me: You realize you aren't normal. Normal dogs don't steal raw sweet potatoes.
Dog, sadly: I was badly brought up.
Me: Yes. Yes, you were.
Dog: By people who starved me.
Me: Oh, no. I am not doing this again.
Me: *exits the room, bearing sweet potato*
[There is a pause.]
[There is a noise like someone is trying to eat a baseball bat very very quietly.]
Me: Oh, for the love of GOD.
Me: *heads off to the kitchen*
Dog: I am not eating a raw sweet potato.
Me: You have sweet potato parts all over your snout.
Dog: But you don't actually SEE a raw sweet potato, do you? So maybe that's just - um. A birthmark.
Me: Did you seriously eat a whole sweet potato?
Dog: You don't listen. I told you, I wasn't eating a sweet potato.
Me, searching around fruitlessly: Look. NO MORE SWEET POTATOES.
Me: Oh, what am I saying? This is you we're talking about, here. *goes to hide all the sweet potatoes that are left - which isn't many - in the fridge, because some people cannot be trusted*
Dog: *attempts to look thwarted*
Dog: *does not succeed, because her tail is wagging so hard small cyclones are forming in the kitchen*
Me: *has a very bad feeling about this*
[There is a pause, during which I do not even bother trying to return to what I was doing. I just stand in the computer room, waiting.]
[There is, as I wholly expected, a baseball-bat-eating noise.]
Me, stomping back to the kitchen: OKAY. GIVE ME THE DAMNED SWEET POTATO.
Dog, looking up guiltily: What sweet potato?
Me: THE ONE IN YOUR MOUTH.
Dog: Oh, did you want this? I just, um. Found it. Lying here.
Me: *confiscates the sweet potato and deposits it in the locking trashcan*
Me: Let us say no more about this.
Dog: ...Nooooo! They be stealin' my sweet potato!
[I attempt to remember what I was doing before the sweet potato episode.]
[Some ten minutes later, I succeed, and return to it.]
[NOT ONE MINUTE LATER, I hear a noise with which I have become all too familiar.]
Me, bonking head on desk: Arg.
Me, arriving in kitchen: How did you even get another sweet potato?
Dog, smugly: I have my ways.
Me: Are you punishing me for being away for several days? I was at a FUNERAL, you know. It wasn't FUN.
Dog: How would I know? You didn't take me. You left me here with only one human to look after my needs. One human is NOT ENOUGH.
Me: *shuts dog in bedroom, conducts a sweep of the kitchen to track down all remaining sweet potatoes, wipes up random sweet potato particles from floor, eradicates all traces of sweet potato from house*
Me: *lets dog out*
Dog, sulkily: Oh, so you think you've won.
[I watch her go about her business with the same sense of overwhelming doom that heroines of Victorian novels get when they meet Count Sinistrus Grimblack for the first time.]
[Half an hour later, there is a wetter, juicier eating noise, as though someone was eating a very moist baseball bat.]
Me, wearily: What NOW?
Dog, hunched over the remains of a butternut squash: *says something garbled because her mouth is full*
Me: Okay. Fine.
Me: *stomps over, empties entire vegetable bowl into trash*
Me: WE JUST WON'T HAVE ANY ROOT VEGETABLES ANYMORE. THERE. ARE YOU HAPPY?
Dog: I'm not even remotely sorry. I told you I was hungry. And you went to a funeral without me.
Me: ARRRRRRRRG.
[A half-hour later, there is another baseball-bat-eating noise from the kitchen. The dog, who apparently does not know how to win gracefully, has found another sweet potato, or possibly caused one to materialize from the Rift.]
Me, hauling chewed sweet potato parts from the mouth of a dog very reluctant to part with them: Oh my god how is this my life?
Dog: Don't you think it would just be easier to feed me?
Me: EVERYONE GO TO THE BEDROOM AND STAY THERE. EAT NOTHING.
Dog: Actually, I feel...um...not so good.
Dog: *throws up* *vomit is very bright orange*
[Unfortunate details ensue.]
Some time later:
Me, attempting to rescue something from the wreckage: So. What have we learned from this?
Dog: Sweet potatoes are yummy!
Other Dog, looking thoughtful: I should pay more attention to crunching noises. Sweet potatoes are probably yummy.
Me: I need a lobotomy.
Monday, May 12, 2008
moved to reply to Dumping article
Our local newpaper (the Oregonian) ran a Community Writers piece about animal abandonment. The title was "City Cousins, shelter is a better fate" and opened with, "City pet owners are lucky. Sure, they have to deal with neighbors and the nearest off-leash park may be miles away. But they have the advantage of getting to choose their pets. Then, some of those City Cousins dump their unwanted pets in the country."
http://blog.oregonlive.com/oregonianopinion/2008/05/the_dark_side_of_dumping_unwan.html
Her ending, “I wish someone would invent a sort of recycling system for these pets - oh, wait! That would be the Humane Society, wouldn't it? Why, I ask myself, does my City Cousin dump unwanted pets on a country road rather than taking the animal to the Humane Society? I'm not sure.”, made me stand up and be counted by writing a reply.
I was only allowed 150 words. There is a longer version from which this was distilled from below.
"Susan Clark’s May 11 letter asks why her “City Cousin dump[s] unwanted pets … rather than taking the animal to the Humane Society.” Here’s why.
Oregon Humane Society cannot be Ms. Clark’s “recycling system” because the job is too large. OHS requires appointments pre-surrender interviews, three to eight weeks out. It doesn’t accept every animal, telling many owners that if left, their animal will be euthanized.
The only local shelter accepting all pets is Washington County’s Bonnie Hays, which is small and often euthanizes pets for capacity reasons. Some small shelters and rescue organizations serve Portland, but these have waiting lists. County animal services only accept strays.
Many pet owners cannot keep their pets for reasons beyond their control. The current economy has increased demand for animal re-homing services.
Portland’s animal-welfare organizations do great work, but they need help, primarily through public education about responsible pet ownership and spaying/neutering."
I’ll let you know if it is published…
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Options for Animal Surrender: as more non-profit humane societies limit their admission there are fewer alternatives for owner-released pets.
Susan Clark’s letter of May 11 asks why her “City Cousin dump[s] unwanted pets on a country road rather than taking the animal to the Humane Society.” Here is why.
The “Humane Society” is not a single organization; it is many local organizations with some principles in common. In Oregon, the best-known humane society is Oregon Humane Society (“OHS”) in North Portland. OHS cannot fill the role of what Ms. Clark calls a “recycling system” by taking in pets surrendered by their owners, for placement in new homes. This job is too large for OHS’s capacity. For that reason, OHS does not accept every animal that owners seek to surrender. Instead it requires an appointment for an interview, typically three to eight weeks out. It does not accept every animal at the interview, instead telling many owners that their animal, if surrendered there, will be euthanized. OHS also requests a donation of $45 to $100 for each surrendered pet.
So, what alternatives does a pet owner have, if they cannot wait three to eight weeks or if OHS refuses to accept their pet for re-homing? The only local open-admission shelter (meaning it accepts all surrendered pets) is Bonnie Hays, in Washington County. This shelter charges $10 - $40 for surrendering a pet. Bonnie Hays is a small shelter, however, and if the incoming animals overwhelm its kennel space and it cannot place them in new homes as fast as they come in, they are euthanized. There are a few small shelters and breed-specific rescue organizations in the Portland region, but these usually have long waiting listing for surrendering a pet. And Multnomah County Animal Services (“MCAS”) does not accept owner-surrendered animals, only strays – and then, only if citizens bring them to the shelter. (Citizens interested in these issues can attend a series of public hearings in July with the City of Portland Animal Services Task Force, a temporary organization exploring the creation of an Animal Control agency for the city, separate from MCAS. For further information contact county commissioner Leonard or commissioner Wheeler’s offices.)
Many pet owners want to keep their pets, and often go to remarkable lengths to do so. Sometimes, however, they simply cannot. The circumstances I have outlined leave many pet owners – faced with eviction, entering prison, moving for a job, or helping out after the original owner’s death – with difficult choices. They may not be able to wait up to eight weeks for an interview, or they may have been told that OHS will not seek to re-home their pet. They may not be physically able to get to Bonnie Hays, or dread the certain death that faces many pets surrendered there. The current economic environment, especially, the surge in people leaving their homes (rented and owned) has noticeably exacerbated the demand for services to re-home these animals.
I do not mean in any way to demean any of the animal-welfare organizations in the Portland region; they do great work. However, their task is Sisyphean: it is more than they can hope to accomplish. They need all the help anyone can give them, but even more, they need public support in the form of education about responsible pet ownership, including spaying/neutering, basic veterinary care, and behavior modification. These can help turn the tide of pet over-population and the crime of animal abandonment.
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We must come together to serve
I’ve been involved in a number of sides of animal welfare: volunteered with Alley Cats and Bide-a-Wee when I was a teen, volunteered latter at a county shelter in Santa Cruz, worked at open admission non-profit humane societies with contracts for animal control and at a county shelter, as well as volunteering with a breed rescue group and currently working at a limited admission shelter that provides a range of services from sheltering and re-homing cats to offering no-interest loans for emergency veterinary care.
I am a member of two local groups that are working for a better future for our animals in the Metro Portland area. One is a shelter reform group, mostly very strongly “no-kill” in philosophy, and the other is a city task force putting together recommendations for changes in city animal services.
I listen to a lot of conversations and debates on the different ways that animal welfare organizations should/ought to be serving their community.
I try to open people’s eyes to the reality of pet over-population and the hard road that most animal welfare workers face.
I often ask folks to read “One at a Time – A Week in an American Animal Shelter” for a clear vision of what it is like. If you haven’t read this book, I strongly suggest it. It is also a blessing of a tool to those that work in animal welfare to explain what their days look and feel like to friends and family. It is not easy to explain to outsiders the stress and strain of just doing you job… http://novoiceunheard.org/OneAtATime.htm
Here is a bravely written article about a day in the life of a shelter that sheds light and pushes back the shadows.
“Tough morning ritual -
Although many employees dread mornings in the office, few face workplace stress like Malmberg and shelter services coordinator Bill Motteler do.
Their grim task is to decide whose time has expired. At about 8 each morning, they must roam the cages and select animals for euthanasia…”
http://www.pjstar.com/stories/050408/HEA_BFHKNRMO.022.php
We need the public to understand. We need all the various groups to understand. We need to understand each other. Sharing, openly and honestly with compassion, can bring us together.
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