Wednesday, June 30, 2004
This is a swallow or swift.
A swift is a beautiful silhouette against the sky, gliding gracefully on long back-swept wings with the speed of a dart, looking like a flying crescent moon with a slim tail following behind. Remember this silhouette and you will always know when you see a swift. Its song and flight are striking to the ear and eye.
The swift's large wings tell you something about its character: it is almost purely a creature of the air, completely awkward and alien to the ground or even the branches of a tree. While an average pigeon might be twelve inches long with a wingspan of seventeen to nineteen inches, a swift or swallow is about five or six inches with a wingspan twice the length of its body, around twelve to fourteen inches.
A U2 spy plane might be the closest aeronautic equivalent, body and wingspan at about 50' and 80', though the U2 has absolutely none of the beauty or grace of a swallow.
Swallows or swifts are also called "chimney swallows," as they often anchor their nests to the inside walls of chimneys, otherwise nesting in the hollow boles of trees.
You will rarely, if ever, see a swift anywhere but in flight. Birds of Britain, from whence I stole the image above, notes that swifts "drink, bathe, preen, collect food and nesting material all without alighting. The night is spent on the wing..." and mating occurs in the air as well. The Audubon Society also notes that swifts "never alight on trees or on the ground. If one is caught and placed on the latter, it can only move in a very awkward fashion."
An old grade school in Painesville, Ohio has a disused chimney that is home to literally hundreds of swallows, who are known to roost as many as 32 to a square foot. In the evening the swallows fill the sky above the chimney like swarms of insects or bats, fluttering in a busy cloud with individuals breaking off to dart about the sky. It is an awesome sight when the birds decide to return to the roost, with swift after swift suddenly diving through the cloud of its kin at mad speed down into the chimney with never so much as a wing brushed against one another. One or two loners always remain, however, soaring in great circles around the schoolyard field with obvious joy and the elation of flight that we can only imagine.
~
A brief note on Googling for swallows and U2 planes: A search for "U2" will give pages and pages of the Irish band U2 before you come across anything on the American spy plane, one of which was shot down in 1960 while flying over Russian airspace, ironically prompting the name of that Irish band... And a Google search for "swallow" (with "safe search" turned off) will yield at least a couple of porno sites before you get to the bird...
6/30/2004 10:28:00 AM
Friday, June 25, 2004
You know the drill:
It's Friday, so go escape for a couple days...
(...and don't forget to play with your cats.)
6/25/2004 10:57:00 AM
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Nasty Tricks Banks Play
A great big bank (whose name I shall not mention except that it has a great big SKY in its name, it's a SKY kind of a BANK) recently took over the small, locally-owned bank I've been using for years. The new SKY-type BANK immediately changed certain policies, as admitted to me by one of the friendly employees just before I closed my account:
1. The automatic teller now always shows a higher balance than the actual balance, whereas it was previously completely accurate, even listing a debit card transaction ten minutes after it was made.
So, many people who were used to that balance being accurate immediately overdrew their accounts, resulting in NSF fees.
2. When totalling transactions, the SKY-like employees are now instructed to process all of the day's debits BEFORE processing any credits (such as deposited checks), thus making it more likely that the customers will overdraw their accounts, resulting in NSF fees.
3. Debit cards will now allow the customer to go over his/her account balance, whereas before they cut a person off when they went over their limit... RESULTING IN: You guessed it, even more NSF fees.
4. And now multiple NSF fees are possible from the same overdraft, when the employees repeatedly post the debit to the (insufficient) funds.
5. I believe the NSF fee went up as well.
6. There was something else also, something markedly dirty and not quite as "business-as-usual" as these other things, but I can't think of it now. Dammit. Heh. I think I have repressed much of the memory.
In the first two months following the takeover by the new bank, the bank manager reversed a full 90% of the fees the bank assessed its customers. After that, she was told that she would be unable to reverse any fees. She done well. She might have even kept a few customers from leaving. Still, when I went to the bank down the street to open my new account, the manager said "Let me guess, you just came over from [THAT BANK I DON'T NEED TO NAME]!"
Ha ha. Evidently I was part of a mass exodus.
Of course, the bank I switched to was immediately taken over by a huge bank, a bank with some kind of a CHARTER associated with its business. I hate this bank. When I transferred out of my first college, I sent this particular bank a check for the remaining amount left in my account to close it out. They cashed my check, THEN charged me a $3 fee to close the account, which bounced because THEY HAD CHARGED ME THE $3 FEE AFTER THEY CASHED MY DAMN CHECK! Then they sent me a $30 NSF fee.
They're all scum.
If there's a point to this, it is exactly that:
Banks: they're all scum.
And, another point: a lot of people are living paycheck to paycheck these days. Banks have caught on to this and are nailing cutomers on NSFs at every possible turn. They're cashing in on the fee game.
One more sad fact: Check advance businesses are popping up all over my neighborhood, and probably yours as well. These will generally advance a person cash against a future paycheck and then charge them at least 25% interest, sometimes more, sometimes trapping low-wage workers in a cycle of advances against every check. They have proliferated where I live along with the local population of migrant workers for the Northeast Ohio nurseries, who already are paid less than minimum wage (with no overtime due to their labor being classified as "farm work.")
But how does this relate to the local banks?
Some people stuck in the hand-to-mouth paycheck routine will use a debit card as a cash advance, paying for gorceries or gas with it, then paying the NSF fee later like interest on a loan.
For some, it's simply called survival.
~
6/24/2004 02:00:00 PM
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Ehh, I found this on the 'Net. And I didn't have time to write anything today. Hopefully that will change soon.
Guinness makes a FINE black-n-tan mixed with some all-natural India Pale Ale from the wonderful Stone Brewing Co.
Mmmm.
Apologies if this sounds and looks like a beer commercial. No profit was made nor hops injured in making this post.
6/22/2004 04:57:00 PM
Thursday, June 17, 2004
HAPPY FRIDAY!
...two whole days to spend away from the machine.
6/17/2004 04:27:00 PM
Feel free to steal the label, just click HERE. I promise not to charge you royalties, heh. I love sending letters and packages. Snail Mail is fun, it's so much more real than virtual messages. It's great just to think of the long journey a package or letter makes to be seen and touched by the recipient.
~
6/17/2004 11:59:00 AM
Monday, June 14, 2004
Writer/"Day Job"/Monday Mourning
(Purely hypothetical, should anyone from work read this)
Sunday, 9:00 p.m.
Watch Mystic River. Diagnose it as pure craft. Remark on what a bastard writer Lehane is, creating situation of complete tension, making audience care about doomed character while desperately hoping against character's inevitable demise. Eastwood did good job too, heh. Ignore emotional impact of movie in favor of appreciating technique, ruminate on writing as manipulation, then write off film as dismal and depressing.
Sunday, 11:00 p.m.
Catch up on sorely neglected reading, end up playing video game and drinking gin-n-tonic-times-three "to relax".
Monday, 2:00 a.m.
Sleep, falling into deeply disturbing nightmares caused by emotional impact of Mystic River (and by gin-n-tonic-times-three), then segueway into stock-in-trade anxiety dream (me alone against five evil enemies in brutal pseudo-rugby grudge match. I lose.)
Monday, 7:00 a.m.
Wake feeling like zombie; dead, hollow, leprous, vacant, shambling. Call off? No, too few vacation days left. Hit snooze button multiple times, stagger in to work at 9:00.
9:05
Open first e-mail: rejection slip from online magazine. Feel like zombie who has now been kicked in (rotting) testicles.
Run to breakroom for coffee, thank God (even though He hates me) that eyes are too glued shut to permit crying. Thank God for coffee too. Curse other employees as idiots too lazy or stupid to make coffee when pot is empty. Make coffee, stealing that first cup with all the caffeine by putting mug directly under drip. Rationalize: I deserve first cup for being only person who ever makes coffee.
Dash off note to e-mail list of writer friends:
WHAT THE FLYING F*** DOES IT TAKE TO GET PUBLISHED AT [magazine X]?!Receive "hang in there" note from writer on list who is also an editor, evidently with a sense of humor.
Sorry.
Also, I received a GLOWING hand-signed rejection notice from a certain very respected paper magazine this weekend, praising and encouraging me to no end, causing me to wonder WELL WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU JUST PUBLISH THE DAMNED THING THEN!?
The editor's flattery and a couple of considerate notes from [editor X at magazine X] have left me confused and conflicted. Evidently I am no longer able to hate these strange things called editors, even when they reject me (sometimes more than once.) God help me, I'm starting to LIKE some editors, making me quite unfashionable with other writers.
HELP!
Any suggestions on cracking the online humor mags? Do you need to start at the bottom to get publishing credits? Where exactly IS the bottom?
Is there a "Writers and Rejection" support group somewhere? Can someone recommend a good analyst who specializes in Writer's Psychology?
It's MONDAY, too.
Mrrblphlump,
-Shane
Reply to list:
Thanks. It's just starting to feel like I'm running a gauntlet, and I'd better get to the end before my ego gets beat down for good, heh. Then comes the next gauntlet...10:00
>We all have been rejected far more than we have been published.
It seems like a numbers game sometimes. Like, you'd better send that submission to 10 mags, 'cuz only one out of ten will publish you. It's just so much work, not inspiration. Although magazines that read "blind", stripping off the author's name and credentials before reading, seem to be real gems, especially for new writers.
Just venting. Hope this does some good for someone else on this list, though. You've either been there and you can laugh at me, or you'll be there eventually and you'll know what to expect, heh. Or you'll be the 1 in 10,000,000 who's lucky and goes straight to the top, in which case:
A. I hate you.
B. Just kidding, I don't hate you, but please tell [fill in magazine name] to please publish me.
Friend instant-messages me to complain about things; respond by complaining about editors and writing in general. Receive no sympathy.
11:00
Researching magazines suggested by helpful editor in rejection slip, discover score of other good humor/fiction websites. Vow to submit to every one of them. Multiple times. Contemplate: becoming professional/relentless or just manic? Need less coffee, or lithium with morning coffee?
12:00
It's noon. What have I done today?
Feel guilty. Do some work. Feel like a screw-up.
12:05
Realize that, even though I = screw-up, I accomplish more and am paid less than anyone else w/ same job title.
Feel less guilty.
2:00
Realize chair stinks like sweat. Contemplate getting new chair that doesn't stink out of warehouse. Contemplate getting new job that doesn't stink instead.
3:30
Vent here on 'blog; Review, realize venting here on 'blog = lousy syntax/abhorrent rambling; Delete most articles "the" and "a" from post: helps, a little; Vow to stop feeling sorry for self; Hit "Publish Post" even though post sucks.
3:35
Edit post ten times even though post sucks anyway. Pray for 5:00.
3:40
"Monday Mourning" -- yeah, that's original.
~
6/14/2004 12:33:00 PM
Friday, June 11, 2004
It's Friday, folks. The Man is off your back for two whole days.
Have a good weekend and I'll see you on *shudder* Monday.
6/11/2004 03:52:00 PM
Thursday, June 10, 2004
6/10/2004 11:53:00 AM
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Appropriate names for SUV models...
...inspired by the Porsche "Cayenne," which name makes no sense to me:
The BMW Ostentation
The Audi Pretension
The Porsche Exorbitance
The Acura Conspicuous Consumption
The Lincoln Overpaid Executive
The Mitsubishi Fad
The Chevy Global Warmer
The Honda Yuppy Sport
The Ford Middle East Oil Dependency
The Toyota I'm Really Not A Soccermom
The Hyundai Urban Outdoorsman Wannabe
The Hummer Small Penis Overcompensator (similar to Ford's Eddy Bauer
Expedition, this should also be available in an Arnold Schwarzenegger
special edition.)
SUVs are fine when there's a reason for them. I sometimes dream not of an SUV, but of living somewhere that might require an SUV for short trips, someplace isolated and rocky, treacherous in the winter ice and snow, with enough animals to require hauling sacks of feed and bales of hay. (Hey, is straw really cheaper?) But all of these sparkling clean gas-guzzlers cruising the highways don't seem to do much but impress the Joneses next-door, do they? Let's face it, if you drive an SUV for no other reason than to look good, you may as well display a sign that says you don't give a damn about the environment. Sorry to be blunt, but it's as simple as that.
Or, as Micah Wright says:
~
6/09/2004 10:26:00 AM
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
I don't know...
Some days I just don't know. Most days I just don't know.
I keep a visual aid pasted up on my computer, just so I remember what I'm getting into each morning:
(You can click on the images to make them bigger.)
I find it's not so bad when you're prepared.
Do you get a kick out of typo's? I typed "bumber" instead of "number" today and almsot laughed out loud. This word "bumber" needs a definition. Any ideas? (It's good to be easily amused.)
Is it just me or does Ben look pretty pissed off?
The government's out of control and the country's in the toilet. This is not what he envisioned and he ain't happy. I didn't realize this, but "The fox, as has been pointed out by more than one philosopher, knows many small things, whereas the hedgehog knows one big thing." But I did know that if your only tool is a hammer you tend to view every problem as a nail (according to Abraham Maslow, who also said "A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.")
It's just about enough to make your head explode.
Do you ramble, when you just don't know? I guess I do. Or else I add captions to old Hulk comicbook art:
See, back in the days of Kirby and Lee, the Hulk was all lumpy-like, and tended to get himself into funny, dramatic poses. I guess if you weren't a fanboy (fangirl?) way back when, you might not get the joke.
But, I'm neglecting writing about the animals. I got home from work and stepped in the door yesterday and had that reflex . . . I expected my recently departed dog Sheena to come running to greet me. I was disappointed, but then my crazed cat Widget came running, meowing "Hello" at me with that nutty look in his eyes.
And wild daisies have sprung up where I buried Sheena's ashes, only there, nowhere else in the yard. Thanks, Ma Nature. Really.
It's the little things that count.
(But wow! Rambling is more work than actually thinking of something to write about.)
~
6/08/2004 01:36:00 PM
Friday, June 04, 2004
OH MY GOD
I'm facing an entire weekend without Internet access, unless I go to the library or somesuch or my PC receives a miracle cure. And I didn't even post anything today.
I can hardly bear to leave work and the 'Net...
Must... pry fingers... away from keyboard...
How will I survive? What did any of us do before the WWW?
I am an island...
~
6/04/2004 05:17:00 PM
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Ozzie and the Magical Kitty Farm
Sounds like the title of a fairy tale, doesn't it?
Evidently there is a farm somewhere nearby that is a home for homeless cats. I can't divulge its location, as it has an unbelievable number of residents already. It may start putting up the cats for adoption soon (with a stringent screening process for potential adopters), if the owner can part with any of them. She seems to be familiar with and attached to every cat. It's a real place, not a fairy tale, and it also has a heated barn for a few dogs.
I got the word yesterday: a certain puppy about whom I have been very concerned might end up there eventually, if no one else adopts him. He still stands a very good chance of being adopted, but he's not going down either way.
[Insert sigh of relief here.]
In other news, it boggles me that my cat Boots was so afraid of Ozzie while he stayed with me. Boots slipped out the door the other night and was still a-roamin' when I put two ancient soy burgers (that I had found in the back of the freezer) out on the porch for the raccoon who lives in the backyard (or maybe under the porch itself.)
Soy burgers are good, and evidently raccoons love them. Enticed by the smell, the huge masked bandit appeared earlier than usual at 8:30 to claim his prize, although it was dusky but not nearly dark.
Miss Boots is very territorial and very brave . . . or stupid. She jumped onto the porch right next to that 'coon and swatted at him, and the coon took off running with a soyburger hanging out of his mouth.
I don't think Boots realizes she nearly escaped death. Ringtails are fierce, and a coon is a match for a medium dog or a fox. This particular young coon is three times the size of Boots.
But luckily the coon was scared, or else very non-violent, so he fled, leaving one soyburger on the porch with a perfect pawprint melted in the frost covering it.
I would have slapped that burger on my scanner for a picture of the print, but my computer is still down.
So I guess Ozzie, who is big but all-bark/no-bite, conned my cats. Boots should have been the one to knock Ozzie around a little, paving the way for domination by my other cats, but Boots must have been intimidated by Ozzie's sheer size.
I put an extra slice of bread out that night as a thank-you present for the raccoon.
~
6/03/2004 02:18:00 PM
The United Way Blues
There's a high-pressure United Way drive here at my job at the end of each year for the following year, and I always try to donate, but I try to circumvent the United Way and designate a direct donation to a charity out of my paychecks. I chose the APL for this year, and three months later, last March, I received an e-mail:
From: [Ms. X]"501(c) (3) status" blah-blah-blah WHAT THE HELL? Having a tough day already, I lose it on the messenger:
Sent: Thursday, March 04, 2004 8:58 AM
To: [Mr. Argy]
Subject: United Way Designation
Hello Mr. [Argy],
I am currently entering designations for [Company X] employees and I see that you have designated to Cleveland Animal Protective League (APL). Though this organization has a 501(c) (3) status it is not a health and human service organization. Designations made through United Way donations have to be made to a 501(c) (3) health and human service organization. Is there another agency that meets the above criteria which would like to designate your pledge? You may choose not to designate and your donation will go to the general community fund to be allocated among areas most needed in Cuyahoga County. Thank you for your generosity and your time.
[Ms. X]
Finance Director
United Way of [X County]
[etc.]
From: [Mr. Argy]Flash forward to yesterday, June 2: No response, but the donations are still coming out of my paychecks.
Sent: Thursday, March 04, 2004 9:20 AM
To: [Ms. X]
Subject: RE: United Way Designation
Hello, Ms. [X].
Forgive me, but I take extreme offense at the fact that the United Way should exclude the Animal Protective League from its list of worthy causes. Perhaps I can find a local homeless shelter to donate to, or I may simply donate direct to the APL. Would it be possible to remove my pledge altogether?
With as much politeness as I can muster, I must also say that I have grave doubts about the United Way in general. Your overhead is too high, salaries are beyond conspicuous, and the portion of donations going to the actual charities is too low.
For example, from the annual report for the UWEWH for the year 2001:
President & CEO:
Compensation $ 146,250.00
Benefits 14,625.00
Total $ 160,875.00
Chief Operating Officer:
Compensation $ 82,019.00
Benefits 8,202.00
Total $ 90,221.00
Chief Financial Officer:
Compensation $ 91,192.00
Benefits 9,119.00
Total $ 100,311.00
I am also dismayed at the United Way scandals of late, especially today's news that [former chief executive of the United Way of National Capital Area, Washington] Oral Suer has now decided not to plead guilty to the charges of mishandling $1.5million of United Way funds:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A28783-2004Mar3.html
Regards,
[Argy]
I begin looking for a local homeless shelter or food bank or maybe some type of children's welfare/abuse prevention and counselling type organization. My county's United Way website provides a list of approved charites, but none of these charities seem to have a website for me to check 'em out. I instant message a friend, who turns out to be offline:
me: AAARGH! i'm trying to redirect my united way donation (since they won't accept the APL -- it's not for humans), and none of the damn county homeless shelters have their own websites, it's tough to even find their addresses. you can find out how much grant money they get, but they don't detail what they do with it.Anyway, I finally settle on the Cleveland City Mission homeless shelter. I know many of the homeless people downtown hate the shelter, probably due to curfews and such, so much so that they sleep in doorways in the wintertime. But many others seem to take advantage of the shelter's heated space and meals.
me: geez, lookit this one:
Project Hope for the Homeless
Ecumenical Shelter Network of Lake County, Inc
5 Freedom Rd.
P.O box 2035
Painesville, Ohio 44077
Phone: Not Available
FAX: Not Available
email: projecthope@ncweb.com
URL: Not Available
Mission Statement:
To glorify God as an extension of local churches, by teaching personal faith in jesus Christ to men, women, and children in need and by compassionately ministering to their physical, emotional and social needs through Biblical, Christ-centered programs.
We currently serve 25 men, women and children a night, through the coldest months of the year. The shelter is open on November 1st - May 31st . . . Project Hope in going on its 10 year anniversary this year.
me: i have no idea where 'freedom road' is, and i guess they don't have a phone or want calls. i wouldn't mind checking them out, maybe even volunteer. d'oh!
me:
To glorify God as an extension of local churches, by teaching personal faith in jesus Christ to men, women, and children in need and by compassionately ministering to their physical, emotional and social needs through Biblical, Christ-centered programs. ..
. . . is nice, but how about just "to help homeless people survive, 'cuz they're people too." And what's with them being closed in the summertime? Do they pass out tents, or direct the homeless to live under the nearest bridge?
I send a brief note to [Ms. X], who says, "I apologize. I had spoken with [Mr. X] out at [Company X] back in March about your wish and thought he was going to talk with you." I ask her to go ahead with the City Mission.
Whatever... Next year maybe I'll skip the UW and just donate direct.
Good news from last May:
May 17, 2004You can read more here in the article. There's still another $1.4 million in question, and Suer is headed for the courts again.
D.C. United Way Leader Sentenced to Jail Time
A federal judge last week ordered Oral Suer, former chief executive of the United Way of the National Capital Area, in Washington, to serve 27 months in jail -- the maximum sentence -- for his role in a financial scandal that rocked the charity.
In March, Mr. Suer pleaded guilty to two felony charges that he stole about $500,000 from the organization during his 27-year tenure. He admitted to receiving excessive pension payments, pocketing unreimbursed cash advances, and charging the organization for fraudulent business expenses, including bowling equipment and visits to see his children when they were attending college ...
It's not the only scandal the United Way has had, there will probably be more, but it's encouraging to see Suer behind bars. Will Enron ever be next?
Here is another well-documented weblog that feels similarly about the United Way.
~
6/03/2004 01:37:00 PM
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Limbo...
My home PC is still offline, and I think Ozzie is in boarding. I'm told a couple are coming to look at him today. Rescue Lady tells me she doesn't want to go through the County Shelter ("the pound") because they don't screen owners well enough. There could potentially be people buying dogs for research. She has a good point, although the Shelter offers a free visit from a dog trainer after adoption. I don't know if they enforce this, but it is definitely a good excuse for a follow up visit to check on the dog a month after adoption.
Of course, the better rescue/adoption services actually require veterinary references that they check on to see how well past pets have been taken care of.
In any case, she admitted to me that she really, really doesn't want to see Ozz put down. I guess that's just good enough, for now.
~
6/02/2004 12:37:00 PM
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Internet Deprivation and Lost Little (Big) Doggies and Gin-Face...
Argh. My home PC is down, so I'm posting this from work.
I nearly had a panic attack when my PC wouldn't start Saturday. It feels as if I'm disconnected from an entire world, a world as big and real as the physical world around me ... sometimes more real, as scary as that might be. I guess I need to spend more time outdoors. I feel like the character Case in Neuromancer ... Internet deprivation is a terrible thing, especially when you live in the middle of Suburban American Nowhere.
Hopefully AskMe will help me out.
I took Ozzie back Saturday night. I was sad but also relieved for the cats, who had been hiding in terror for days. I took him to the home of a woman who runs a rescue/adoption service, who I assumed would be keeping him until he was adopted. She and her husband are great. They have a fenced-in area for dogs. They have four of their own pooches and others coming in and out all the time.
One by one they brought their dogs out to meet Ozzie, who was properly deferential, although he briefly tried mounting one pooch once and he got into a literal "pissing contest" with another. I watched as Ozz and the other dog took turns peeing on the same tree three or four times apiece. Did you ever wonder where the term "pissing contest" came from? Now you know, and it's hilarious to watch.
Ozzie looked happy and I hoped he'd be able to stay. I said "Ozzzzzie, what are you doing?" when Ozzie licked a puddle of a female dog's urine, and the man of the house quickly reminded me that there was a wealth of information Ozz could discover in that pee, maybe even searching for a family connection. I told him I happened to read recently that male Giraffes must catch a squirt of the female's urine to tell if she's ready to mate. When Ozzie defecated on their lawn, the man dutifully inspected the stools for worms.
I gave them all the info I could think of about Ozz and thanked them, offering any help I could give. Then I went home to the newly quiet house to relax and wait and watch for the cats to come downstairs.
Saturday was a nice, quiet, relaxed evening, with me watching the brilliant animated Tokyo Godfathers on DVD and nipping into a bottle of gin a bit too heavily. I don't drink that much anymore, but luckily I remembered the basics of gin: It's nice when your face turns numb and rubbery, but it's generally time to go to bed when your eyeballs begin to feel like they're made of tofu. My eyeballs did end up feeling like tofu, and I did trot up to bed then.
Boots came down first the next morning, taking at least 15 minutes to cover the ten feet from the bottom stair to the living room. She crept in slow motion, casting skittish glances to the corners of the room, even looking up as if Ozzie the Ogre might somehow be clinging to the ceiling waiting to drop down on her. She was taking no chances. Once in the living room, she sprinted and leapt for the nearest tall bookshelf to be sure she was safe.
Buffy, the tiny cat who still looks like a kitten, came next. I coaxed her on and she trusted me, quickly but nervously entering the living room. She acted the most bravely of the four cats.
Widget, the huge tabby and sometimes bully, muscley and sinewed like a miniature panther, was the chicken of the bunch. He took a full 24 hours to come down and took longer than Boots to sneak into the living room. Then, like Boots, he seemed to relax and breathe a sigh of relief as he sprawled out on various pieces of furniture, stretching to his full length as if to claim as much of his territory back as possible, luxuriating in his newly regained space.
And Jackie, the gray-furred, green-eyed ghost of the house, couldn't be bothered. As far as she is concerned, the second story is her haunt and she has no use for the rest of the house anyway.
So, we were all doing okay until I got a phone call last night at 9:00. It turns out the woman who runs the adoption service would not be keeping Ozzie and she was sending Ozz back to the woman who rescued him. Now, Rescue Woman can't keep Ozz either, she has been boarding him out, and she claims some large bills from this and the vets. So she asked me for a donation, especially since she just paid $100+ for Ozzie's neutering, etc. I told her I could spare $50 at the moment and I'd bring it by today. She mentioned again that Ozz might end up being put down, which sent me into an instant intense depression. I wish she would have told me this in the morning, allowing me a worry-free sleep...
So I'm desperately looking for a home for Ozz, and I'm checking into why we don't just give him to the Lake County Dog Shelter. They have been reporting a max two-week turnaround time for dog adoptions lately, and some of the more beautiful dogs advertised on their website have a waiting list and people literally qeueing up in the parking lot in the morning, first-come-first-serve, to take them home. So why isn't Ozzie there?
The state of animals in the world often sends me into a deep depression. No animal should have to live for months or years in misery, sometimes confined permanently to a small cage. Shelter animals and lab animals and bears kept caged for their stomach bile for Chinese traditional medicine and abused pets and wildlife overpopulated from unchecked land development and kitty mills and puppy mills and poaching and battery farming and veal and ...
... and everything else. Too much to list. It's all too much for me sometimes. I'm no longer proud to be human. There is nothing civilised about civilisation.
"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."
-Ghandi.
~
6/01/2004 02:16:00 PM
