Saturday, March 31, 2007

Boondoggie Hearts

I was contacted again by the former residents of Albany's Camp Boondoggle, the homeless camp the city of Albany bulldozed last summer. I took 32 cats out of those camps during the extreme heat of summer. Some of the homeless campers found their way into jobs and apartments. Well, actually only four of them.

V and M are two of those four, a couple, still struggling to survive, on temp jobs and seasonal jobs, always facing threat of eviction for paying rent late. They think they will be evicted very soon.

In the meantime, they took in a male cat left behind by the last tenant who lived there. That complex is flea infested. Severely flea infested. A city council woman, who helped another Boondoggle couple move into that same complex, long before V and M did, had called me asking if I could suggest or provide something to get rid of the fleas in the place while L and D were moving in, that they couldn't stand it. I said "That's not my problem to pay to solve. That is a landlord issue."

So there have been many tenants in and out of that complex, who had pets, and never actually took care of them in any fashion, like giving them flea treatment.

A few weejs ago, V and M also asked me to help fix a mother cat abandoned there, and her three kittens, now six to eight months old. They were living under the complex. I trapped all four, got them fixed and found Itabi, the tame mother, and a home. Poppy is still here with me and V and M pledged to feed the two other teen siblings. So after they were spayed, I returned them to V and M, having no other place for them to go.

That's been a few weeks ago. A couple days ago, they called and asked that I come over to give all the cats they feed flea treatment.

Their apartment, also, was flea infested when they moved in, so any cat who comes inside, or even lives outside, gets infested. So I went over today and treated the male cat for fleas, tape and roundworms. He was abandoned by a former tenant, and now has another issue---a mouth infection and a broken off tooth. He needs tested for FIV/Fekj and at least one tooth pulled. They don't know much about his history, just that the last tenant who lived in that place, left him behind. He's already neutered.

I then treated the two girls, also abandoned with their mother there, by a tenant, for fleas, tape and roundworms, plus updated both on distemper vaccinations. It was nice to see them again, and that they are doing so well.

But V and M, are under constant threat of eviction. M is working day jobs through a temp agency. V claims his daily wage comes to about $70, but that the temp agency withholds all but $40. If this is true, and I can't imagine it could be, M is getting close to half his wages withheld from this check, allegedly for taxes. He's low income. This can't be true. I hope to ask her to see one of his wage stubs. If it is true, something fishy's going on. He gets paid daily at the temp agency where he gets day laborer jobs.

She has applied for work at fast food places, but never been called back for an interview. She's a bit older, kind of slow or might be, in learning a job, has no computer or telephone skills, and really has very little chance at finding something she could successfully do.

Anyhow, they are good hearted people, always wanting to find a way to pay me back for helping them with the cats. It's really really poor people who are sometimes the most generous and most eager to pay back, even though they have nothing.

I suppose they understand having nothing and don't want to be causing me to have less, for helping them out.

The other Boondoggies in the complex are less noble. They have three cats, only one of whom is fixed and want to breed the other two, even though they can't even afford to worm or vaccinate the three they have. They now have three more cats, because they let some friend live there for awhile, who had three cats, also all unfixed, then that person up and moved out, leaving the three cats with L and D.

So V and M claim that couple want me to come get the three cats their friend left behind when he or she moved out. I told V and M to forget it, that since L and D won't fix their own cats because they want to breed them, I don't make life easier for people like that. Too bad. They are on their own. V had to agree that this was a just way to deal with them.

Anyhow, the four cats V and M feed, were all abandoned at that complex prior to them moving in. But, at least they are all fixed, vaccinated, wormed and flea treated. And I going to use the money raised by the cat blogosphere folk, those saints, to help the male get his bad tooth pulled.

When V and M are evicted, if they are, which they probably will be, the four cats they feed will be rehomed by me. Somehow. Some way.

V and M are Boondoggies with hearts of gold.

More Recalled Pet Food and Do You Know Where Your Food Comes From?

Yesterday and today, two more types of food were added to the recall list: Purina's Alpo brand dog food, certain lot numbers of the cuts and gravy variety, and Science Diet's Prescription m/d feline dry food. I anticipate more dry foods to be added to the list.

I checked the Kirkland brand dry I feed my cats and did not find wheat gluten listed as an ingredient. I was relieved.

Why is the name of the supplier who imported the tainted wheat gluten from China being withheld? I start wondering who it might be and that maybe it's the military or something. I can see wheat gluten being a big part of the glop served in cafeterias, like on military bases and in schools, remembering my own school cafeteria eating days----glop food, I called it, heavy in glop---which could be wheat gluten---glop!

I've been thinking about the implications for humans with globalization. We don't know where our food comes from anymore, or even where some of the ingredients to those foods, sitting on supermarket shelves, come from. Many countries seem to have almost no regulation when it comes to what can be applied to crops or put into food, like rat poisons and horrible pesticides, banned here.

I know when I walk by the deli fish section at Winco, and see farmed fish from Viet Nam and such places, I won't buy it, thinking about how some of those countries will hang dogs and dip them into boiling water alive, to loosen their skin, then skin them while still alive--for the pelt.

In other words, some of these countries, including China, are barbaric to animals and knowing that, would I trust them to do anything legally or ethically right in raising fish sent to the US as food? No, I wouldn't. They'd do anything to fatten fish fast to make a fast buck, like here, only here at least there's a bit of regulation and oversight.

SARS--the deadly virus, started in China's cancun district, where blood of many species of rare and exotic animals, ran like water, intermingled, along the streets. Frightened sick animals would sit caged, alongside hundreds of other animals, as market goers chose live animals for exotic dining, and they were slaughtered on the spot. That's how SARS began---the result of China's barbaristic sins against the animals. A virus mutated slightly from one species when another, in close contact, was exposed, so that another caught it and it mutated again, until humans could catch it---the revenge of the animals.

Anyhow, now I read labels. When I see a label on food that says "Made in China" or made in any questionable country, I toss it back on the shelf. I don't like eating fruits and vegetables from out of country either. I'll be buying as much Made in Oregon food and grown in Oregon food as possible now. Where does your food come from?

Will the pet food recall ultimately make more people buy their food from local sources? Could that be one good thing that comes from this?

Here is a comment from the latest story about the pet food recall:

"About 70 percent of the wheat gluten used in the United States for human and pet food is imported from the European Union and Asia, according to the Pet Food Institute, an industry group.

One veterinarian suggested the international sourcing of ingredients would force the U.S. "to come to grips with a reality we had not appreciated."

"When you change from getting an ingredient from the supplier down the road to a supplier from around the globe, maybe the methods and practices that were effective in one situation need to be changed," said Tony Buffington, a professor of veterinary clinical sciences at Ohio State University."

An Old Body

My old body is worn. Yesterday, I worked all day and until 3:00 in the morning, cutting up the carpet rolls, so they'd fit into my car, stuffing the carpet and pad into my car, hauling it all to the dump and then painting the floor, with all 22 cats confined to one bedroom.

In the process, my right finger went haywire, snapping around, if I try to use it, and hurting badly. My face somehow got scratched up, too.

I had to wait up until the paint dried because I couldn't fathom going to bed with all those cats mad at me, in my bedroom also. Would have been hell. They're already mad enough. I can't open windows here and have no cat yard so they can't go outside. There is limited window space, for them to watch outside, and the windows I do have, face the sides of other houses or the street, so there's nothing of interest to look at anyhow.

This is not cat heaven here. This is concreted Albany and about as far from heaven as one could get.

So they take their unhappiness out on me. And on each other.

I have languished here also and have little hope or delight anymore. I am now alone 24 hours a day seven days a week. This is not an easy thing.

On weekends, one neighbor spends a lot of time roaring around, just up and down this block, on his extremely loud motorcycle. I have no clue why he does this. The first time, I thought, "well, he's just tuning it up." The second time I thought "well, he didn't get it tuned up right and today he will and that will be it." Now, I don't think at all. I just curse at the monstrous constant noise and try to let my mind slip away somewhere else.

Everybody is all bottled up over here, stacked on top of each other in a sea of angry concrete. Sometimes I think about half the residents of Albany are addicts or alcoholics. But I'm probably exaggerating. I can understand why one would take to drinking or drugging over here. There's nothing else. Anyhow, I hate living here. I want to go home.

Today, I drove over to check out that situation over off Elm street. I knocked on the side of the screen door, on the soft wood covered in peeling diarrhea colored paint. At first there was no response. Then I heard things falling over and swearing. The door opened just a crack and a one eye appeared in the gloom seeping out from the house through the cracked door.

"What do you want?" the woman snarled. "I'm here about the cats," I said, already wishing I hadn't bothered. "Well did you see any?" the woman asked eagerly, opening the door wide enough so I could see her in entirity. "Just one black and white short hair," I said, and pointed across the street to where he'd run.

"Well you should've told me you was comin. I just fed four of em."

"I didn't come to trap today. I have no reservations until next week. I just came to check it out."

"Well don't you trap my cat when you come," she threatened.

"What does she look like?"

"Well, if you would have come earlier I would have showed you, but she's not here."

"I don't have your phone number. May I have it? I'll call before I come trap."

She recited her phone number but I couldn't remember it that fast.

"Are any of these cats you feed owned?" I asked, remembering the cops harrassing me for helping the injured cat the week before.

"How the hell should I know?" the woman growled. "Now that asshole over there (she pointed to a neighbors house), he ain't got nothing but two little dogs. And that asshole (she points directly across the street to a neighbor man working around a small ornamental tree in his yard), he ain't got nothing but a dead tree."

I thought later I should have felt embarrassment, the way she was going on about neighbors so loudly we all knew they could hear what she was saying. I didn't feel any embarrassment. I've gone partly zombie inside of late.

The neighbor working on the the little tree, stood up straight, turned and glared at us, then went inside his house.

I said "I got a few cats fixed for a guy lives behind you. I'll try to talk to him, see if any of these you're feeding are his. He's kind of mean, however."

"Oh," she screamed, outraged, "so you think he's mean? You don't know "mean", not yet. I am the meanest person you'll ever meet."

"Well," I said, ignoring her statement, "I've forgotten your phone number, could you write it down for me, so I can call you before I come over?"

Instead of giving me her phone number, she slammed the door in my face. I walked back out to my car, got in and drove away.

I went shopping, got a few things I needed, and came home.

Will I try to trap any unfixed cats there? Probably I will. Like I say, the abuse I take off people like this just kind goes into my zombieville side, my smile and nod side, my stare at the spot on the wall side.

I also had this notion that this is a woman badly damaged by hurtful people. She now goes into the offensive when she meets someone, to keep them at a distance, so they won't hurt her again. I figure I'll be just like her very shortly. But she feeds strays, for gosh sakes. I hardly believe she's mean. In fact, I think she's probably a good person.

So anyhow. The cat blogosphere people did an auction fundraiser to help me out with rescue expenses. I don' t know any of these people and I think they're mostly easterners. It's truely wonderful that they are helping. It's hard to believe.

There are good people out there.

There's another cat in bad shape on the same block as lived the male I got in trouble for helping. I asked that the woman who wants to get him to the vet to do everything absolutely legally, so I don't get threatened by the cops with arrest again. I believe, from the sounds of it, that he has herpes that has gone on too long and that he's losing his eyes, both of them, but I haven't seen him, so I don't know. The lady on that street will be attempting to trap him. So, if she does, the blogosphere auction funds will go in part to help him. I hope she catches him soon.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Carpet Slayer!

Carpets are Evil. I kill them. I am Carpet Slayer!
Here I am posing with the dead and lifeless carcass of my latest kill!
Don't mess with me!
Trophy Grade Carpet Kill!

Look at this pile of dirt and fuzz in the photo below. I swept this up after removing a ten foot by ten foot section of carpet and pad in the dining area of where I now live. And this is only part of the dirt under the pad from that small area. I also had to scrape the particle board floor, too, because there was age old caked on mud under that carpet and pad, adhered to the particle board floor.
Have allergies? GET RID OF THAT EVIL CARPET! I wonder how many asthmatics carpets kill each year.
Below is the dining area of the rental after I rid it of the EVIL, and it got a first coat of primer.

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Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Two Circle Blvd. Ferals Travel to Portland


Yesterday, after dropping off the final Marion St. male at Countryside for neuter, I went on up to Beaverton, to Poppa's presidents residence. She had agreed to take in the two Circle Blvd. feral females. Both had been pregnant at spay. The third pregnant female had died shortly after surgery, the day before, at the clinic, which made me very sad. One of the other two females, a very beautiful gray tabby on white, had corneal ulcers in both eyes. This is a very painful condition.

Although it is generally caused by the herpes virus drying out the cornea, it can also be caused by exposure to toxic substances, trauma or abuse, as in having hot water thrown in the face. I didn't know what caused her miserable eye problem. Didn't matter. Her eyes need some long term treatment.

I had been treating her three times daily with terramycin.

Once at Keni's, with the two girls, we took them straight to her vet, where they got all their vaccines, were tested for FIV/Felk (negative), wormed and the girls' eyes were examined. The vet left Keni a message later, stating "the two very beautiful kitties you brought in for exam....." it was just a very nice message and so respectful of these cats, who were feral. He talked about them like they were the best cats in the world. To hear a vet give such kindness and humanity to ferals, was different and beautiful.

In most shelters, even in Oregon, ferals are given no respect, thought to have no right to life, and are killed immediately upon arrival. Many people who help ferals are considered nuts, by some vets and by many of the large animal control shelters.

Anyhow, I got to see Lynx, the Albany cat I got fixed for an Albany family a few years ago. They said if I got him fixed for them they'd keep him forever. What a pile of bullshit.

He'd been abandoned twice, they said, before they took him in. He showed up a year after I got him fixed for that family, in a live trap at Heartland.

I retrieved him. By this time, he was riddled with pellets. Someone had shot him multiple times. And he was FIV positive.

For a year, I tried to find him a stable home. And then Keni took him in. Now, three years later, he has lymphoma, a tumor wrapped around his stomach and intestines. He's been on chemo, and has gained weight back and is eating well again. He's already lived longer with Lymphoma than most cats do, and he may have years left. Hard to tell. He was diagnosed about six months back, and is not only still alive but improving. He huddled against me in Keni's exercise room, converted now to a cat sick room, and began purring his head off within moments.

After we dropped the girls off at the vet in Hillsboro, I helped Keni pick up plants a big wholesale nursery was donating to Recycled Gardens. They're really nice people at that nursery and are great believers in POPPA's mission.

After that, we dropped off a trap at someone's house, who wanted to catch a cat she'd been feeding, then went and set a trap at another woman's house, who had borrowed Keni's trap six months before, to catch a stray and never actually done. So we finally just went over and set the trap. I never heard if anything got caught, because I had to get home.

Fortunately, T picked up the cat in Jefferson and actually found him a home with a friend of hers. The Marion Street woman didn't want him back.

I fell asleep on my couch last night, which is not a good thing, since it's a love seat, only four feet long, and I'm five feet nine inches tall. So I got crimped up. I woke up at 5:00 a.m., all stiff and sore from hanging off that short little couch in strange positions all night. I switched to my real bed then, and slept until 7:30 a.m.

I was going to get things done today, like check out an alleged collector's house in Lebanon and go by the Walnut street address, to see what's going on with the cats there. But the carpet got to me, in the dining room, and instead of doing other things, I ripped it out and now am waiting for paint to dry, the first coat of primer. I must now call Coffin Butte Landfill and see how much to take a load of old carpet and pad out there. The old carpet and pad pieces are filling my garage.

I keep inflaming an elbow nerve, when I pull out the carpet and pad and do that work. Feels like needles being poked into my right elbow. Ice helps it feel better. I just want to get all the carpet out and the floor painted and have it done.

Monday, March 26, 2007

She's Dead

The fourth cat from Circle Blvd., another pregnant female, died following surgery today. When the vet took me aside to tell me, when I went up to pick up the cats I took in today, I pretended it didn't affect me and said "these things happen". These things do happen. My guess is, in her state of starvation and pregnancy, her heart could not withstand the anesthesia. The vet looked at her at 4:00 p.m., he said, and she was starting to come out of anesthesia just fine. He checked on her half hour later and she was gone.

He offered to do a post mortem and I said "no, let her be".

There's no sense to that. He's a good vet. I've never lost a cat during or after surgery there before. These things happen.

I loaded the little teen female, dumped off in Crabtree, fixed today, into my car.

I loaded the three owned males from Marion Street in Albany, fixed today, into my car.

As I drove towards Crabtree to take back the little female, I couldn't hold back the tears. I sobbed. The tears ran down my face. I couldn't stop them.

I trapped a cat without anything, not even adequate food. I wanted to give her a better life. Instead, she's dead. I wanted to hold her in my arms and comfort her and tell her I was sorry, that I loved her, that I knew how hard her life had been and how scared she was when I trapped her. I'd told her everything would be ok.

I was still upset when I arrived in Crabtree to deliver the cat back to the Crabtree trailer people. I tried to tell the woman, who waddled out onto the deck towards me, why I was upset. All she'd say was, "well, if you want one to replace her, take any of these out here. I don't want them...." and she laughed.

I thought she was going to hug me for comfort or something, because she came towards me on that old moldy porch, despite her sarcastic words. But she was just going to get something out of the extra frig sitting out on the dilapidated porch. She brushed by me, and didn't invite me in, wanting whatever she was wanting, out of that frig.

So I left, and returned the males to the Habitat built house on Marion and they grabbed their other male, whom they couldn't catch this morning, and stuffed him into one of my carriers. They said "you don't have to bring him back, if you don't want---find him a home" and I said I would just get him fixed tomorrow, that if they wanted to find him a home, they'd need to do that.

Some woman from Jefferson called this morning, said she would like to see the Lebanon kittens because she wanted "male kittens". So she said she'd be over in an hour an a half. I waited two and a half hours. She never showed. Somehow, I knew she wouldn't. But I reverse looked up her number and it came out a completely different area of Jefferson, as address with that number, than she had given me, and a different name. Well, that could be explained if somebody moved and the number got given to this woman. Yet still, that combined with the fact I waited for her and she never showed, seemed ominous. It's also rude.

I have appointments tomorrow, and just the one male to take in. Some old woman called from over on Walnut, said she feeds ten or more in the mornings, but they're tame. I said I"m not taking in cats that might be owned. Go door to door, see if you can find out if anybody owns them or not.

"I'm not going to do that," she said, "but you can do it, if you want."

Why do people think they can just order around a volunteer, I wonder?

I'm not going over there and going door to door, doing something she could do. Or all the neighbors could do together.

I don't have anymore colonies to work on. They're all done now. No more leads, either, on unfixed housepets. So I will take up the one male tomorrow and that's all I will do for Albany OR this week.

I'm supposed to go to Eugene, next Friday, I guess it is, to go to some fund raiser for their spay/neuter clinic---a night of gaming or something. I don't gamble. I don't play blackjack or poker or one arm bandits and don't have the money to do that shit or even the desire. But I told this Oakridge woman I know I'd go. An hours drive down. An hours drive back. I just e-mailed her and told her if she hadn't bought the tickets, not to buy them and if she has bought them, that I"ll refund her the cost somehow. I just don't want to drive an hour to Eugene, and an hour back late in the dark and the rain. And I don't want to be around Eugene people or any people and pretend I like gaming/gambling, even for a fundraiser, and ah shit. I don't have any friends and I'm not trying anymore. I dont' have anybody. And for some reason, I miss my mother. And I just want to sleep and cry.

I was going to go up and volunteer at Recycled Gardens season opener plant sale on the 7th. I always do that. It's exhausting and a long drive, but I have an intense respect for POPPA Inc. and so I would probably travel to the ends of the Earth to help them.

So if they need volunteers at the plant sale, I will be there.

I am not affiliated with any other group of people. The POPPA people have treated me like a saint from the start. They're the only ones. My loyalty to that group of volunteers, up in Portland, is undying.

More Excarpeting and POPPA's NO FOOLIN PLANT SALE is April 7th!

I'm taking out more carpet today. Someone sent me a craigslist post on someone wanting old carpet, for a garden project and I hope they will respond to me and take my old carpet. That's be like a godsend really. Carpet is disgusting. There was a lot of dirt beneath the pad on this section, outside the bedroom door, to the kitchen and down the hallway.
You can't vacuum up dirt like this, hidden under a carpet pad, and even under the metal edge between the carpet and vinyl. My brother told me once that some sub contractors will just walk on particle board flooring with muddy boots and put carpet or vinyl right on over the mud and dirt, since they figure it won't be seen anyhow. It's really disgusting to think about.

The particle board floor beyond the kitchen, minus carpet and pad.

Today, five cats are up being fixed. I trapped a fourth cat over off Circle in Corvallis. I didn't get that darn black and white short hair. I got another gray tabby on white. It might be yet another pregnant female, which would mean three pregnant females caught there, plus another female, so far. Also, the dumped off young female in Crabtree is being fixed today---cat number six from that situation. These folks had contacted the FCCO, hoping for help with fixing dumped off cats. The FCCO, since they had no clinics in this area coming up, called SafeHaven, hoping they could do something. SafeHave called me, asking if I could help. I did so, immediately. POPPA paid for the fixes.

POPPA Inc. is awesome, and on April 7, will have their season opening NO FOOLIN PLANT SALE. Anyone who likes plants should go, to the little nursery that could---Recycled Gardens. All the money generated by selling unwanted plants goes into money funding spay/neuter--to prevent unwanted pets. Unwanted plants preventing unwanted pets. How cool is that?

The other three cats being fixed are owned males from Marion street in Albany.
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Sunday, March 25, 2007

The True Function of a PC

Cat furniture.
Nothing, in the world of man, is sacred to a cat.

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Painted Green Floor

Vision and Ebineezer admire the newly painted green floor.
Butterscotch, the old campus feral, on her last legs, lives under that far chair most of the time, so I cut the carpet free around it last night, leaving the chair and Butterscotch's hideaway alone for the time being. I removed a large chunk of the old shag carpet and pad last night and painted the floor, with two coats of primer, standing guard while it dried, with a squirt gun, to keep my cats from painting their pawsies green by walking on it.
Here is the newly greened living room floor.
Comet stares back at me from under my bed, while Hobi and Catthop sit in the background. All my gets get along. Even the foster cats, which include most of the cats here. People think that's strange that they don't fight. I think it's strange that people would assume they'd not get along.
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Saturday, March 24, 2007

The Kindness of Strangers

Strangers are incredible. People I don't know are now attempting to raise funds so I can have Revolution to apply to ferals, so they can be free of fleas, earmites and roundworms for an entire month. So I can have the wormers and vaccines and cat food I need for rescues and cats who are being fixed. Strangers are doing this--strangers, out there in the cat blogosphere.

A stranger in Florida sent me some nice sunglasses a few weeks ago. I don't know her either. She likes cats and is a good person.

A stranger in Las Vegas has been good to me for years now. We've never met. She sends me encouragement, advice, even power tools and once, this printer I now use, which is cheaper for me, because of its larger ink cartridges that I can refill at Rapid Refill, so I can make cat adoption posters.

A Portland couple sends a donation occasionally. We've never met either.

A Portland man once sent me a gift certificate he said he didn't need. I'd been wearing shoes full of holes for a long time at that point. I got some shoes, because of the kindness of a stranger.

A stranger in Wisconsin has helped me out also. Once, a few years ago, a stranger in Seattle, an aerospace engineer, with a newly minted degree, sent me help and I couldn't believe it. I thought it must be a joke or a trick, but it wasn't. It was a kind stranger.

Maybe I don't have much support around here.

But strangers throughout this country have been incredibly good to me.

When I get down on people, I need to remember all the kindnesses I have received from strangers and they are many. Thank you, kind strangers, everywhere.

I think it's kind of like having angel shadowing me. I can't make out their faces, but they're out there, nonetheless.

Today, I ripped out more carpet, out in the living room, and painted the floor a first coat of primer. It's particle board floor beneath the carpet so it needs well sealed. The carpet was yukky. And there was a whole lot of it, plus the pad and tack strips.

I haven't finished. Lots more carpet to yank. But it doesn't take much effort actually. It's tacked only loosely on the edges. Then I roll the carpet up or cut it into smaller pieces and take it out to the garage. Then I pull up the pad and take it out. Then I pop off the tack strips around the edges and take them out. Then I scrape any rough edges and pull out staples that held the pad to the particle board and fill any little holes with spackling.

After that, I use a roller and paint the floor, which takes only a few minutes, with the first coat of primer. I put fans out, to dry it faster. And I kick back. I took out quite a large piece this evening, from the front door to the start of the dining room and to the edge of the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

I still have an area to do at one end of the living room, the entire dining room, the hall and my bedroom, if I yank it in my bedroom. I might leave it carpeted. The rest of the areas I've not yet yanked, will be easy.

But first I'm getting that one area I did today completely done, with two coats of primer and the finisher, then I'll move the furniture to that part, and finish the undone areas. I thought it would be harder and take longer, but it isn't hard at all. The hardest part is getting rid of all that old yukky carpeting and pad. I took the carpet out of the spare bedroom weeks ago, and painted that floor a gorgeous blue. My brother brought up paint for the rest of the floor. It's a pretty green. I'd take a picture, but right now my camera isn't working.

See, old shag carpet and cats don't mix. It's been kind of disgusting, actually, mainly because the carpet is mottled creams and browns, in color, which happens to be the same general color as cat poop, cat hairballs and cat vomit. I've stepped in each, barefoot, over the last weeks, living here. Each type of excretement is well camoflauged by the carpet. No more will there be carpet in this house. Yahooo! No more barefoot squishy surprises underfoot!

Lost in Albany, Oregon

I feel lost here, where I now live. I don't call it home. I feel uprooted. I lived in Corvallis for over three decades. I can't call Albany home and I can't call Corvallis home. I can't call anywhere home.

I was lonely in Corvallis, but the land and every nook and cranny of Corvallis was familiar to me. I knew where it was safe, if I wanted to run away to the stars into the night in Corvallis. I had my private spots of mourning and glory along the river and in various parks.

Tonight I wanted to cry to the stars over the stress of what transpired today with the cops threatening to arrest me over helping the injured cat. I couldn't find anywhere. It's a feeling like one might have if they have an addiction and must satisfy it, that intense need I have, the urge to run into the night, when I am stressed and in despair, to find a private hideaway where I can pour out my heart into the heavens.

Away from the buildings and lights and signs and concrete and screaming people and roaring cars.....away.

It didn't take much to make me feel like a worm being stomped again, did it? I was getting more confidence, the way I work to help cats, maybe sort of. I guess not really. My contact with the world of humans has nearly always turned vicious. That's why I retreat, back into the cat's world. The world of the cat is a much kinder jungle. One phone call from a cop put me right back to feeling less than worthy, like hiding out, like only showing my face in the night--out of the world of humans I flea again.

I don't like Albany.

It's like living in a big city here.

The things I figure people value here, by reading letters to the editor, listening in on conversations at stores and general observation are cars, beer, guns, sports, and judgement.

The crime rate is off the charts. Drug addictions and poverty---off the charts. I wonder sometimes if there's a connection---to what I sense are the values here and the crime, addictions and poverty rates.

I have a nice house to live in. I can't see the stars from this overly lit street at night and I wish I could. I need to find something for myself, to make me happy, in my lonliness. When I just say the word "Albany" I think of dirt and grime and concrete and grease and car exhaust, for some reason.

Well, if I can get the rest of the carpet out of here, that'd be a good thing. And if I could find a way to create some privacy, so I could open my windows or even my blinds, without staring at neighbor's windows or the street, that'd be good, too.

What happened today, reminded me, that although I like people, I really shouldn't trust them or interact with people. I guess what I'm saying is I may as well give up on trying to fit in or be heard about even cat things, and just kind of melt away into the night.

I thought if I could communicate my ideas on cat control to the right people, maybe I could make a difference. I see this is a useless waste of energy and hope now.

I got to get comfortable with my aloneness here, as I did to fair extent in Corvallis, with the help of the stars and places like Bald Hill park and Crystal Lake Boat Landing. I know there aren't parks like those in Albany, so I'll have to travel to hideaways, when I need to. I realize that now.

I'm not a city person.

I've never been comfortable amid chaos and concrete.

One day maybe I'll escape car and concrete worshipping Albany, Oregon.

For now I'm leaving the world of humans behind once again.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Jaded Jody. I want to Run Away.

I could be arrested, by the Albany police, for helping this cat, an officer told me. That's right. Theft of a cat. I acted as transporter, taking him to a vet. I believed the neighbor, who posted trapping notices, as the Albany police department told her to do, when she called to complain about the collector down the block with 15 plus unfixed cats, who would fight on her front porch, tear up her cats and crap in the yard. So she did, she posted notices and began trapping any unfixed unidentified cat, on her porch. The collector down the block knew she was trapping and, according to the trapping neighbor, said she could trap any cat of hers and take it to a vet. I believed her. I still do.
Do the cops prosecute collectors, animal abandoners and abusers in Albany? Answer: no. Did the cops tell the neighbor to post notices and then trap? Yes.
The City of Albany has meetings over the cat problem. The county now defines any free roaming cat without outward ID as "feral".
And yet, when it comes down to reality, the cops go after an innocent party---me, who did nothing wrong. They claim the cats are well cared for and that the collector even rolled one over on its back to show she had gotten it fixed. She didn't get it fixed. I got it fixed and the only reason it got fixed was because she ended up in a live trap on a neighbors porch--a neighbor who was instructed by the police on how to solve the problem in that neighborhood.
I have been providing the neighbor with food to give this woman, too. She has more unfixed cats. Did the cops say "get those cats fixed, you're affecting the neighborhood, increasing the cat problem in Albany, and contributing to possible disease spread?" No, they called me up to bitch me out, treat me like a criminal and tell me I could be arrested and might be.
Excuse me, Albany police? Why are you targeting me?
I don't think I can take it anymore. I want to run away. I have nothing and nobody positive in my life, just abuse, from every which way.
Well, I have been told now that I won't be arrested, that the cops believe what I do is wonderful. What a change in tune from a couple hours ago, when I was a criminal out in the middle of the night stealing injured cats.
I don't even know what to think anymore. I guess I stick with cats because I don't do so well interacting with people. But I have quit the fixing stuff for now and cancelled my cat fixing appointments. I am seriously jaded. I want to help cats. I love helping cats.
But being lectured like a criminal by the cops, who turned the collector, who flagrantly neglects her cats and causes suffering to them and the neighborhood, into some righteous victim, with me the villain, has made me want to run away and hide for awhile.

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Friends Rottweiler Doing OK and The Recalled Can She Fed Her Was Bought Six days ago

I talked to my friend this morning. She was profusely apologizing to me. She checked her receipt and she actually bought the can of food, now recalled in the massive pet food recall, at Fred Meyer six days ago--Thursday, a day before the recall was enacted.

So my conversation about Fred Meyer having recalled product on their shelves yesterday was inaccurate. I too apologize for this. I told her, I wondered if, in the panic of her dog getting so ill, she had carefully checked the receipt, but she doesn't lie and is always so careful and accurate, I believed her concerns. I stopped at Fred Meyer worried other pet owners might be affected product if it indeed was on their shelves and hoping they'd recheck. No need, I guess.

I still think it's sucky that they told me they'd only removed the recalled products two or three days before. That meant Sunday or Monday. The recall was announced on Friday.

My friend had bought dog food that morning at Fred Meyer, but the recalled product she had been feeding her dog, she bought last Thursday or Friday, she told me.

She has kept the can and if the dog's bloodwork shows or even doesn't show that she has kidney failure signs, either way, she's sending the bill to Menu Foods. Because if the dog just got diarrhea, from whatever, she would not have panicked and rushed the dog to the vet had she not found out she had been feeding recalled possibly tainted product to this dog for a couple of weeks at least, maybe longer. She feels Menu Foods is liable for the vet bill.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Circle Blvd. Cats

I returned the three Seavy strays to their caretakers. I decided to circle back and check the pull out off Circle across from HP. I've trapped cats there before, and down and across behind Carmike. Lots of cats. Over two dozen cats in fact.

The homeless camps move here and there, dissolve during bad weather, then re-appear. When the homeless appear, they often bring kittens, who mature, breed, and are left behind, when the homeless move out or are driven out.

There, sitting on a log in the brush, was a skrawny black and white feral short hair. I set the one trap I had with me. I also had the two carriers, that two of the Seavy strays had just exited, once back home with their caretakers after surgery. Almost immediately, more cats appeared. The above photo is of the second cat I caught.

This is the first cat I caught in the brush north of the pull out across from HP. I then transferred her into one of two empty carriers I had along, in the back of my car, and re-set the trap and caught the tabby tux in the first photo. I transferred that cat to the other carrier and set the trap a third time, catching another. I never did catch the black and white short hair because I ran out of containment devices.

So I left the cat, and probably the others there I didn't see, a bunch of food. I've already wormed these and flea treated them. They're in good shape other than starving. What will I do with them? Hell if I know. If the homeless are back in the camps, I might take them back, but not to that exact location. I'll build them a stray housing unit and a stray feeder and supply the homeless with food to feed them.

If I don't take them back and there are homeless around, they'll just get more cats and they won't be fixed either. I had no option but to trap these lovely kitties, because otherwise, the area again would explode in starving hungry cats. They need fixed, is what I'm saying. Above all else, they need fixed and they will be.

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Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Rotten Menu Foods!

Menu Foods, the Canadian pet food manufacturer, has tested the tainted food now, in the last day or so, on at least 50 research subjects, in attempts to isolate the exact toxin. These research subjects are live dogs and cats, and at least ten of the 50 died. Where did they get these poor souls, caged for research to benefit MenuFoods, killed so Menu Foods can try to alleviate their own negligance and get back to making money? Did they buy them off bunchies? The class B animal dealers who sometimes pay kids to steal pets? Did they get them by answering free cat and dog ads, in the paper?

In any event, these pet food producers, who make all these different brands, by slapping different brand labels on the same shit, pretend they care about animal well being. Well, that's a little hard to believe now, isn't it, when we know that they have hundreds of animals they do experiments on, so as you and I will buy their pet food so that they can make money.

Well I ain't buying menu foods brands anymore. I have the list. And I am not buying their shit, tested by killing animals, any fucking more. You hear that Safeway, Fred Meyer, Walmart, Iams, Eukanuba, Hills, etc? You fucking hypocrits.

Shall we watch your fuzzy little ads, promoting various brands of dog and cat food, featuring warm fuzzies about dogs and cats who eat your brand of dog or cat food, like we're slugs without memories or brains and don't know now what you do?

We know now, you don't give a shit about pets, Menu Foods, and all the companies who slap their brand on your plant shit, because YOU ARE experimenting and killing dogs and cats, in research. All you really fucking care about is MONEY!

God help us all. And Menu Foods, I hope American trial lawyers sue your brains out until all your fat ass execs and all the brand company fat ass execs, are living in cardboard boxes somewhere homeless, competing for crumbs with stray cats.

Photos of the last Husspuss colony Cat and Three Strays from Seavy

Seavy female stray. I picked up three strays, being fed on Seavy, last night, who are being fixed today.
The other Seavy female.
Seavy male. There are other strays being fed on that block. I left the folks a set trap, but have not heard from them since I left last night with the first three cats.

And this is the last Husspuss colony cat, a pregnant female, being fixed today.
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Monday, March 19, 2007

Can't Senior Bush Do Something?

I hear more and more reports about goof ups, graft and stupidity from our highest office and our Presidents cohorts and appointees. It's somewhat of a joke now almost...."what's he going to try to pull next"......Somebody needs to do something. I would think Sr. Bush would do something to halt his sons' behavior, in bankrupting our country, well that's just one thing. Is that not the role of a parent, when a child goes seriously astray?

Barring that, I think Bush should be impeached, sooner rather than later. But who to replace him? We need smarts, savvy, courage and competence in a president now. Where do you find such a soul amongst the hardened politicians, intent on keeping things comfortably the same. The politicking that goes on seems to thwart good or even solutions. We have so many problems within our own country.

Number one, we need to quickly, very quickly enact measures to drastically decrease our dependence on oil. Then we'd no longer be whores to middle eastern countries over oil. We could tell the Saudis, who treat women like shit, fund terrorism and are not our friends, "see ya".

We could ignore Iran. If you don't respond to a bully, who wants to be mean to you, they move along to find someone who will respond. We listen to the Iranian guy, because we want their oil. Otherwise, we'd ignore all of those crazy middle eastern tirants and religious freaks who kill in the name of God and, let's see, treat women worse than pets. We'd not even talk about those countries, outside of "did you hear, on CNN, that in Pakistan, another woman was gang raped by tribal leaders because her brother stayed out too late?" "Oh," you'd reply, "not again. Those poor women. Well, let's hope that secret program gets under way soon, the one where we spirit a women activists into the mountains and teach them how to kill effectively, like at the male only prayers sessions. It'll be easy for them to hide weapons beneath the burkhas, don't you think?"

But anyhow, enough on my dislike of the way Muslims regard women.

More on our own local embarrassment. Mr. Bush, resign why don't you. It didn't work out. Go back to, oh, well, wherever you came from. Go, you know, chase tumbleweed out at the Texas ranch. Wear your cowboy hat. Polish your boots. You'll like that. It's a simple job.

I remember a clip being shown of a summit in Russia---all the big boys from all over the world were there. Bush tried to make conversation with the China big guy and made the comment "Boy, your country is big, real big." I was so impressed. That was my President speaking. Inside, I was cringing, like I would if a kid of mine was on a stage, reciting lines he was starting to mess up and I'm just hoping the play gets over with before he really messes up and embarrasses himself and me. You know what I'm saying?

So anyhow. I think it's time George Sr. took his son aside and said "Look. You gave it shot. You've messed up. Step aside, son. We'll tell the world you have a brain tumor or something and have to have a series of operations. We'll shave your head. It'll work out. The world will pray for you. And the country will have a new president. You're going to do this voluntarily, right son? Or shall I call in your mother?"

Time in a Tight Fit Crawlspace

My brother came up today to do repairs here, on the house. The outside faucet was leaking. The water heater had sprung a leak. And the phone line wouldn't work. We fixed all these things. The outside faucet job required someone go under the house. The ducts under there, left little room to get under. My brother wouldn't fit. So I went. I don't mind these dirty confining jobs. We had to get to the end of the faucet, which was under the house, to get it off and replace it.

I had to really navigate around in that crawlspace, to find areas where I had the space to shimmy under those big duct pipes. And there were so many ducts criss crossing the crawlspace! It took quite a bit of pushing myself along by toes and pulling with my elbows to find places to get under all of them, so I could work back to where the pipe entered. There were lots of chunks of broken up cement scattered atop the vapor barrier black tarp. These hurt my bare arms, which are now scratched and punctured.

I finally made it the water pipe in question. I then sprayed the hell out of the connection to the outside faucet with Liquid Wrench, and clamped a crescent wrench over the hex nut, to hold it steady, while my brother cranked on the faucet body, the other direction, from the outside. Finally, it loosened and gave. It took me a good 15 minutes to navigate back out, reversing my path to the places were the ground was lowest beneath each duct, so I could get under it. I was filthy when I finally pulled myself out from under the house.

My neck and shoulder will pay the price for crawling under there, by tomorrow. By tomorrow, I will feel the pain and my right arm may be numb, due to shoulder swelling, from that problem muscle that once tore. Anytime I do heavy labor, I get the aftermath the next day, of pain, and sometimes a useless right arm, that is either numb from the shoulder down, or so weak I can't even lift a cup.

We had success also with the phoneline. Someone had added another line and this had been open to slight water exposure in a couple spots. We disconnected that line, which went to a jack in the living room and spare bedroom. After disconnecting that line, the other one, which connects to two other jacks, worked fine. That was easy enough.

We had to remove a two inch nipple pipe that was badly corroded, and replace it and a washer in the water in line, to repair the hot water heater. This repair too was fairly easy once we finally got that pipe loosened, using Rust Off and then Liquid Wrench. After a trip to home depot, to get a new outside faucet that matched the size of the old one, and a $.70 nipple pipe for the water heater, we quickly fixed those and the important repairs were done. Yay.

I think it is wierd that that short little double threaded pipe piece would be called a "nipple". Some sex obsessed man must have named it that. That's what I figure.

My brother is making cat runs and may sell them. It was an ingenius design and quick to install. We didn't get many up because it was getting late and they needed to leave for home.

I then went and picked up some Corvallis cats needing fixed. Strays, they are, being fed on Seavy and there are more.

Old Butterscotch, the old campus feral, is not eating again. I don't know, but it could be near the end of her time on earth.

She somehow survived getting very ill about the time of my eviction. She wouldn't eat or drink. I had her in the bathroom, the only place, with the furnace declared dangerous and shut down over there, where I could maintain heat for her, with a space heater. My landlady, when the furnace broke, had no sympathy, only derisive comments about me having a cat in the bathroom. I had explained to her, since the furnace was shut down, that was the only place I could keep her warm and she was very ill. I thought she'd be sympathetic to an old sick kitty, but no.

Anyhow, again, she's not eating. I have to make a decision for her and I hate these decisions. I am not God. How can I be choosing life or death for a living soul?

Also, one of the Lebanon four kittens has had consistent diarrhea. He is the only one of the four who has not thrived here, gaining wet, playing and enjoying life. I did get one of the four tested. Now I"m thinking I should get him tested.

I spent much of yesterday corraling all the foster cats and updating them on flea treatment, vaccinations, ear cleaning, nail trims, and worming. It was pleasant actually.

Blizz is just a wonderful young adult female, with the softest fur you could imagine ever touching. She is Hobi's mother and both come from behind Home Depot. She's not feral, but she's a bit shy. But once on your lap, she'll purr her head off. I should get her tested also, because I've not tested either Hobi or Blizz. However, I believe Sienna, who was taken in then adopted out by SafeHaven was tested. Sienna is Hobi's sister and Blizz's daughter. Testing costs so damn much, that I really can't afford it.

She has some malformed front teeth, that slant strangely. Those will one day cause her issues, I"m afraid, bite type issues. Anyhow, if I can find the bucks to get her tested I will ask an opinion on those teeth.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

So Long HussPuss Colony---Last Cat Caught!

I get a phone call Friday. The old man voice doesn't identify himself, just says, "Bring the Champagne." I said "Who is this?" For a moment I thought it was someone who was responding to my plea for any sort of human contact on St. Patricks' Day or otherwise. The voice continued, "I'm the guy who just caught the momma cat!" Then I knew. The Husspuss colony was now done.

"I'll be right over," I said, and "Congratulations!"

Over I went. As I drove over, I ran through the last months spent trapping that colony, like a trip down memory lane, only some of the memories were more like nightmares.

Like when I saw in peripheal vision, something coming up by the left side of my head a split second before that "something", which happened to be a pistol, went off. My ears rang for days. I could have killed that old guy. His hand was shaking when he shot it, too. He could have blown my head off.

I remember at first thinking they were such a nice old Christian couple. That was right before I found out they'd only been married seven years and they married for the sex.

I remember setting up the selective trap, with the line rigged from the door of the trap, running inside the trailer. I explained how it worked, that you cut the line when an unfixed cat was eating inside the trap and that way you wouldn't catch the hordes already fixed. And then I couldn't resist catching two within half hour by cutting the line. Mr. Husspuss was upset because he wanted to be cutting the line.

He sat by that sliding glass door for the next month and a half, watching intently for any unfixed cat to enter that trap. He caught two or three right away. But the last two cats, both females, eluded his efforts for an entire month. I started getting on his case because they wouldn't stop feeding outside the trap. Finally they began feeding only inside the trap and quickly he caught the last two.

So she's sitting in my garage in a nutria trap because what the hell, catching her late on a Friday, and I have no reservations again until Tuesday. She's pregnant. Hope I don't end up with kittens in my garage.

But she's caught and she's the last cat--cat number 17. Husspuss colony completely fixed.

I got nothing going now. I got tame cats I can pick up and take up to be fixed. But I have appointments only two days each week now. Not enough to make a difference. I've tried to find other low cost vets, so I could apply to use the cat grant funds. But I haven't found any other vets willing and low cost enough. It's a frustration. You get spay/neuter funds but the money isn't the limiting factor in this valley. It's finding some place to get them fixed.

I"ve been lonely here, at the new place. Today, I finally left the house late, to get some cat litter. Other than that, I just dorked around here. My elbow hurts on my right arm, from trying to scrub. I'm lonely. I'm bored.

I waited around all day here partly because I thought some Corvallis folks were going to call and come over to choose a cat to keep their own cat company. They never called or came over. I was very disappointed. I have too many cats here and seem to get pretty much zero contacts now off petfinder about them. It's quite discouraging. With fewer appointments to utilize, means I have even less to do now. Not good to be bored and lonely.

The few people I knew in Corvallis now act like I died and don't return phone calls. Neither have even come over to see the new place. I find that rather telling about the nature of our friendship.

I got W mad at me for posting about her book coming out and knowing her. I don't think she wants it known we have a connection and that the connection comes out in a character in one of her upcoming books. The character is loosely based on myself. That's how I see it. As a favor I removed the post. But I guess it hurt me, when she asked that I remove it. I guess it hurt a lot. I told her it hurt, right afterwards, then she tried to talk me out of feeling hurt over it. I pretended everything was fine, but I never heard from her again and I don't think I really want to now. Because it did hurt.

Well, life can be kind of a lonely thing. That's just how it is.

Does Wilco Feed in Tangent Handle the Pet Recall This Way?

Last week, a woman who works in a vet office, urged me to go to Wilco feed in Tangent. She was so excited that they were selling Nutro wet cat food pouches at about $.19 each, which is unheard of. She even called them up for me, to see if they still had some, which they did. I didn't get by there to buy some. Good thing. Maybe those pouches were included in the recall, although the recall had not been announced yet. I don't know that for sure. I'm just guessing.

So I'm wondering if Wilco knew what was about to take place and was trying to sell off the pouches even dirt cheap, because they knew those pouches would be worthless when recalled by week's end. Nobody sells Nutro pouches at that price--unless they weren't selling at all and they were going to discontinue that product. You'd think this would not be necessary, that retailers selling products that now are recalled, would be refunded by the producing company. But a store might think since the recall was so massive, getting money back on possibly tainted product might take forever and a day.

If Wilco had heard the whisperings in the wind, concerning the recall, and chose to sell affected product before the news hit the media, that would be really sucky behavior on their part. I really can't imagine a store doing such a thing.

Let's hope that is not why they were selling off nutro wet cat food pouches last week dirt cheap. Maybe those they were selling were not recalled product at all. I will find out this week, from the woman who went and bought a bunch of them and urged me to take advantage of the cheap price, too. She'll know. My guess is a store would not engage in such a liability heavy practice.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Illegal Democrat Herald Telemarketing Tactics

I'm on the National Do Not Call registry. And yet.......and yet, I have had so many calls from a Mesa, Arizona telemarketing firm attempting to get me to subscribe to the Democrat Herald. I finally filed a complaint against them with the National Do Not Call List. And I sent a complaint to the Democrat Herald, asking why they are contracting with a telemarketing firm who violates the law. My next step may be to file a complaint with the Oregon attorney general's office.

I also told the Democrat Herald, if these callers are only alleging to work under a contract with the Democrat Herald to get subscriptions, then they need to know that scammers are using the DH name anyhow.

But, I would guess, the Democrat Herald employs this telemarketing group to boost subscriptions, even if the company illegally calls people on the do not call list.

The Iams Way of Handling the Pet Food Recall

Iams has handled the recall of pet food, including some of their own brands, like eukanuba, by stating the following on their website page:

Our company websites are down for necessary site maintenance. We appreciate your patience during this downtime. Please visit our sites again soon! アクセスしていただいてありがとうございます。現在 及び はメンテナンスのためサービスを一時中断しております。明日のお越しをお待ちしております。
The Iams Company7250 Poe AvenueDayton, Ohio 45414

Yeah, right. Necessary maintenance. Your pet food is killing dogs and cats, and you don't have the balls to post the lot numbers on your site. Cut and run cowards that you are! Iams, you suck!

By contrast, this is what the Hills Science Diet recall page looks like:

Hill’s Pet Nutrition, Inc., Announces Voluntary Participation in Menu Foods’ Nationwide U.S. recall of Specific Canned Cat Foods.
Topeka, KS (March 17, 2007) – In response to the recent Menu Foods, Inc. nationwide recall of wet pet foods, Hill’s® Pet Nutrition, Inc. has announced a voluntary precautionary recall in the United States of a very small number of canned cat products that are co-manufactured by Menu. This recall only affects Science Diet Feline Savory Cuts canned products in the United States.Hill’s is voluntarily recalling the following products:1. Science Diet® Kitten Savory Cuts® Ocean Fish 3 oz. and 5.5 oz.2. Science Diet® Feline Adult Savory Cuts® Beef 5.5 oz.3. Science Diet® Feline Adult Savory Cuts® Chicken 5.5 oz.4. Science Diet® Feline Adult Savory Cuts® Ocean Fish 5.5 oz.5. Science Diet® Feline Senior Savory Cuts® Chicken 5.5 oz.No other Hill’s products are affected by this recall. Hill’s Pet Nutrition, Inc., is taking this precautionary step to protect the health and well being of your pets. Hill’s has received no reported cases of illness. Consumers of other pet food brands manufactured by Menu Foods have reported a small number of cases of cats becoming ill with loss of appetite, vomiting, and lethargy which are potential signs of kidney failure.This voluntary product recall involves discontinuation of all retail sales and product retrieval from consumers. Consumers should stop using the affected products immediately. Consult with a veterinarian if any symptoms are present in your pet. All Science Diet products carry a 100 percent guarantee, and consumers can receive a refund for recalled products. For more information, consumers can contact the company at 1-800-445-5777 or visit for details.Hill’s is recalling the following product codes. Product codes can be found at the bottom of the can. Only relevant code numbers have been listed (‘X’s indicate irrelevant numbers).
1. .
5. .
2. .
6. .
3. .
7. .
4. .

Hill’s Pet Nutrition, Inc., has informed the Food and Drug Administration on this issue. The company regrets any inconvenience to its consumers, retail customers and veterinarians.

Now, if I were to decide between purchasing Iams or Hills Science Diet in the future, which company do you think I'd choose? I'll give you a hint: I hate cowards. IAMS YOU SUCK!

House Woes

I've had a few house woes lately. The phone line does not work, something wrong somewhere in the inhouse wiring. The hot water heater was leaking, but only slightly, at the hot water out pipe connection to the heater itself. This morning, I go out, and there's a stream of water running from the hot water heater down and out the garage. I don't even know where the water shut off valve is, for this house. There's no shut off valve for the water at the water heater. So, I'm just not going to use hot water for now.

My brother is coming up Monday to do some repairs. There seem to be a lot of water issues here. The outside faucet leaks. The toilet sometimes doesn't fill after flushing. The hot water heater leaks. And there's water under the house a lot, possibly from bad drainage from a clogged gutter drain pipe, or from the neighbors lawn and drainage, which is higher than the bottom of this house.

I am sure all of these issues can be resolved easily. Hopefully there won't be a need to purchase a new water heater.

Tainted Cat and Dog Food Causes Kidney Failure, Deaths

Link to story below. Click post title to go directly to Menu Foods recall site for lists of products possibly tainted.

A pet food manufacturer is recalling certain style pouches and cans of dog and cat food after reports of kidney failure and death, that followed ingestion, by dogs and cats, of their food products. The recalled products are sold under various brand names at Fred Meyer (Krogers), Safeway and Walmart. The following is a list of the brand names the tainted cat food products were sold under:

Recalled Cat Product Information
Recall Information 1-866-895-2708
Americas Choice, Preferred Pets
Best Choice
Demoulas Market Basket
Fine Feline Cat, Shep Dog
Food Lion
Giant Companion
Good n Meaty
Hill Country Fare
Key Food
Laura Lynn
Li'l Red
Loving Meals
Main Choice
Nutro Max Gourmet Classics
Nutro Natural Choice
Presidents Choice
Price Chopper

Look For This on The Bottom of Can or Back of Pouch
Product Description
Can or Pouch
Jan/26/09 Adult Variety Pack 24x3oz Can 3oz 3725735777 Sophistacat
Jan/10/09 Poultry Vty Pack 12x3oz Can 3oz 737257370494 Sophistacat
Mar/04/09 Pouch Variety Pack 12x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725738181 Sophistacat
Jan/24/09 VP Only Pouch Beef 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725735165V Sophistacat
Jan/23/09 VP Only Pouch Chicken 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725735164V Sophistacat
Jan/11/09 VP Only Pouch Chicken 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725735164V Sophistacat
Jan/21/09 VP Only Pouch Turk/Gib 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725735163V Sophistacat
Jan/09/09 VP Only Pouch Turk/Gib 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725735163V Sophistacat
Jan/24/09 VP Only Pouch Tuna 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725735162V Sophistacat
Dec/16/09 VP Only Sl Chk/Cacciatr 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257370234V Sophistacat
Jan/22/09 VP Only Pouch Wf/Tuna 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725738727V Sophistacat
Nov/19/08 Pouch Seafood Vty Pack 12x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725702851 Sophistacat
Mar/04/09 Pouch Seafood Vty Pack 12x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725702851 Sophistacat
Mar/04/09 Pouch Poultry Vty Pack 12x3oz Pouch 3oz 3725702850 Sophistacat
Jan/24/09 Pouch Beef 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257351653 Sophistacat
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Dec/07/08 Pouch Beef 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257351653 Sophistacat
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Mar/06/09 Pouch Mixed Grill 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257351660 Sophistacat
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Jan/11/09 Pouch Tuna 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257351622 Sophistacat
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Dec/05/08 Pouch Turkey/Giblets 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257351639 Sophistacat
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Feb/19/10 Sl Chick/Cacciatore 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257370234 Sophistacat
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Feb/19/10 SL Duck/Rice 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257012912 Sophistacat
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Dec/18/09 Flaked Trout 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257012769 Sophistacat
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Dec/18/09 Flaked Salmon/Wfish 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257012905 Sophistacat
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Feb/19/10 Flaked Tuna/Gravy 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257012752 Sophistacat
Dec/16/09 SL Turkey/Gravy 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257012417 Sophistacat
Mar/04/09 Pouch Variety Pack 12x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257381810 Sophistacat
Jan/10/09 Pouch Kit w/Chick/Lvr 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257387287 Sophistacat
Jan/22/09 Pouch Kit w/Chick/Lvr 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257387287 Sophistacat
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Feb/20/09 Pouch Kit w/Chick/Lvr 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257387287 Sophistacat
Mar/06/09 Pouch Wfish/Tuna/Sauce 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257387270 Sophistacat
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Dec/20/08 Pouch Chick/Wild Rice 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257387256 Sophistacat
Jan/25/09 Pouch Chick/Wild Rice 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257387256 Sophistacat
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Dec/06/08 Pouch Shrimp/Steak 24x3oz Pouch 3oz 737257387263 Sophistacat
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Dec/16/09 SL Bf/Gib/Grvy 24x3oz Can 3oz 737257012899 Sophistacat
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Special Kitty
Springfield Pride
Total Pet, My True Friend
Western Family
White Rose
Winn Dixie

Friday, March 16, 2007

Not a Pretty Sight

I locked myself out of the house in the night last night. It was an ugly scene, I tell you.

I'd remembered, jolting awake rather suddenly to the memory, that I had plugged in a power tool battery to recharge, out in the garage, over 24 hours before. Batteries can explode if overcharged although I'm pretty sure it's really rare. "Shit," I thought, "that would be something that would happen to me." I jumped out of bed not even bothering to fully wake up first and tripped out into the garage. As the kitchen door closed behind me, I thought "Please God NO!" I'd locked that door as I went through it out into the garage. It's habit.

It was such a bad dream.

A sinking feeling overwhelms me. I'm barefoot and in my PJ's. It's the middle of the night in Albany, Oregon. And I'm locked out of my house.

My mind races through the possibilities. My old sleeping bag is in the garage. The decades old bag I can't let go of. The zipper doesn't work now and it's seriously stained. I could lay that out in the back of my car and just go back to sleep, I thought. But, my car was locked too.

The garage floor is cold hard cement. The option of laying out on that for the night at first seemed doable, in my sleepy mind, but the fuzzy warm pleasure of a good night's sleep faded into misery looking at that hard cold floor.

I thought about Millersburg, and my friends who live there, who have an extra key to my place. 'How long could it really take,' I thought, 'if I walked really perkily, to get to Millersburg.' I realized then a ten mile walk to Millersburg, given it was dark and I was barefoot and in PJ's and thus would be stopped several times by passing cops demanding an explanation, might take even longer than the rest of the night.

Then, I rememered the phoneline went dead. I'd strung a line through the bedroom window. The window might not be latched and the rod, between the bottom of the opening window section and the far end, wasn't that long in the bedroom. In other words, I might be able to squeeze through the window if I could get up to it.

I had that old folding step stool in the garage. I padded out, in the dark, my toes gathering grass between them, around front to the bedroom window, hoping no neighbor was still up to witness the event about to transpire.

The sweatpants I use for pajama bottoms are a little too large and tend not to stay put.

I balanced on the step stool's second step as the legs melted into the mud on the ground outside the window. I removed the screen. The phone cord went through a hole torn in the screen, then through a crack in the bedroom window. Usually, I have the window locked, even over that phone line, but I'd had the window open slightly, to help vent paint fumes. I recently tore out the carpet in the spare bedroom and painted the particle board floor. (it's now a beautiful blue).

My cats stared out at me, from my atop their nests in the warm cozy blankets atop my platform bed.

I cracked the window and shooed them off the bed "Move! I don't want you cats getting out and besides, this isn't going to be pretty."

Even standing on the top step of that sinking step stool, I was high enough to only get my shoulders and arms through the window. I'd have to kind of bounce in, I figured, and pull myself up and through. My sweat pants were sagging off in the back. I could feel the breeze. I told myself, "Just don't look back."

I didn't want to know if there were lights on in any of the neighbor's houses.

I scrambled some, after the shove off from the step stool. There was nothing to grab hold of. The edge of the of window frame was sharp. I grated my stomach across that as I nosed into my house again, pulling myself up and across the windowsill with my arms, then flopping, face first, inside. I quickly closed and locked the window.

I pulled up my sweatpant pajama bottoms. I felt my dignity was intact. I mean, at least I wasn't walking in sagging sweatpants and torn pajama top towards Millersburg. I'd taken care of the problem. People lock themselves out of all sorts of things all the time. I was back inside. No biggee. Maybe parts of my behind got bared to the neighborhood, but who in their right mind would have been up watching at that hour? Yeah! That'd be a drunk, a druggee or an insane person. I was righteous!

I quickly snuggled back into bed, trying to forget it all.

I'm lonely these days. Who is doing something for St. Patrick's Day? I have an Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers CD!

Thursday, March 15, 2007

An Old Rage Against the Machine Goodbye E-mail to the Mental Health Systems Abuse

An old acquaintence sent me the following e-mail today, without comment. I'd sent it as a last post, a few years ago, to a mental health consumer list. Why it has re-appeared now, I don't know. I was severely abused within the mental health system and finally left it for good. Here is the e-mail I sent a mental health consumer list as a final post some years back:

Kevin, I'm leaving the mhsurvivor list and Barry, you won't be hearing from me again. It is incredibly disturbing to watch the state justified for the likes of what happened to me in the beating and other abuses over the years, just out of lack of money. It's very hard to hear it all get turned into a campaign for Measure 28.

And reading some editorial from a mental health worker in Lane county, that too was very painful as he justified people dying under care because well, people die without care anyhow, so who cares if people get killed in care.

Well it wasn't even a matter of negligence, what happened to me, it was often just plain mean spirited abuse and assault with intent to harm. So congratulations Barry and your department. You've apparently gotten away with deaths, abuses, anything you and mental health professionals wish to do to tied down locked up people. Nice.

If I ever see you or any mental health professional near me, I'll fucking pepper spray the hell out of you. Then I'll have to commit suicide or face forever in some psyche institute.

People the state paid to "care" for me: tied me in restraints for hours on end where I had to pee on myself, where my back broke from pain, where I lay naked to the eyes of anyone including males, even janitors, who walked in, where I was mocked and told you can eat with one hand tied out above your head, laying on a restraint table and the other tied below the table, where the urine soaked sheet I lay on was finally ripped from beneath me by one corner by an aide, causing burns on my stomach. That was at Good Sam in Corvallis and the result was likely what they wanted, the pain, humiliation. I broke down into a blubbering sobbing I'll do anything you want fool. Torture works.

That scenario was repeated over and over throughout my mental health "treatment". At OSH, the "treatment" escalated into just outright abuse, shoulder ripped out, all sorts of nightmari! sh happenings but....hey, who the hell cares. Nobody.

You go through just plain torture, abuse, state sponsored and nobody fucking cares. Let's wrap our blindness in American flags and pretend compassion, pass a tax measure and everything will be fine behind those locked doors.

Fuck those who abused me. Fuck them all to hell. You know what you did to me, what you caused me, the suffering atop suffering? Fuck you abusers. Fuck you Barry because you could have demanded real justice for what happened to me at Portland Adventist but you did not.

Fuck all cowards everywhere, abusers and those who stand by and allow it to happen.

All I can do is utter those useless words--Fuck you, because you fucked me over and over and over and got away with it. So fuck you and hope our paths never cross again, even in the next world, if there is one.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Rabbit in my Yard and The Old Man Snags Another!

House rabbit that has been showing up periodically in my yard.
The 15th or 16th cat trapped at the Husspuss colony by the 88 year old pistol wielding viagra-popping gourmet cook grizzley sweetheart! That old man is something else. Wish he were younger. Or I were older. Or, heck, if he were single, not married, and nothing else was different. Anna Nicole might have been on to something. Some of these younger men are useless compared to a guy like this one!

Anyhow, one cat left to catch there---the pregnant female. But maybe now two. The big hunky tabby on white male was spotted back in the area yesterday. He may have not chosen a good time to re-appear. The old man and his wife want the colony completed. They've dorked around for a month, not really trying to catch the remnants of the colony and now, probably because I began bugging them to death, they've decided to get it done. So if he gets caught, too bad mister. You will leave that trap minus your balls. But the cat I really want them to catch is that female, for gosh sakes. I think I have them convinced to stop feeding wet food outside the selective trap. They were feeding more cans of wet food per day, to the dozen or so they feed, than I feed to sometimes up to 18 here in a day. Oh yeah. Four times more. Are those strays slightly over fed? Hmmmmm. But fat cats who eat too much gourmet food twice daily are a tad bit hard to trap.

Today, four cats are up being fixed, courtesy of POPPA. Two are from Philomath. Some folks registered cats for the last FCCO clinic, but only brought in the mother, not the four kittens. Now, only two of the four kittens seem to be still alive. I caught one, plus a big male they'd not seen in months. So those two are being fixed.

The Lyons street woman got another cat from the woman down the street and she has owner released him for adoption. He's a little black male with only one eye. That makes 8 or 9 cats fixed from that one neighbor on Lyons. She has released four I I believe, so far, for adoption. Two or three of them already got homes or moved into a Portland rescue. So anyhow, the third cat up being fixed, is that little male. The fourth is the Husspuss colony brown tabby tux in the photo above.

Monday, seven cats were fixed. All were from Lyons and Marion street. Four were females, three were males. One of the females was pregnant, bringing the total of pregnant cats fixed from the one Lyons street house to four. That house, already over run in cats, would have very soon popped out with about twenty more kittens.
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Monday, March 12, 2007

Life in the Toilet

My life has slipped into the toilet. Too bad I can't use the toilet anymore for intended purpose. Hahahaha.

I wonder if I'm all screwed up because I had to quit even my occasional beer two weeks ago, to go on metronizadole. You can't drink on that stuff, because it blocks absorption of alcohol, so if you drink, you get violently ill. So I've not even had a beer for two weeks. I'm supposed to wait three days after taking the last metro, before drinking again. It's now been, well, three days. Tomorrow will be the 4th. I'm over the time already I needed to wait. Wait an idiot I am!

My entire body now feels on fire. I have no idea why. It's as if something invaded my body and is intent on its destruction, inflaming everything.

As if this weren't enough, I had phone contact with the little rooster, as I sometimes refer to her. Over a month ago, she asked if I would help trap and then transport a 16 cat Lacomb colony to a Portland flex clinic.

I was sure, because I was told this by FCCO tech, that cats brought to FLEX clinics had to come with $25 per cat. This woman could donate only $100. So I attempted to contact the FCCO twice about this, for clarification. They did not respond to either request for information. But they responded to the little rooster's request and told her it was fine, that the 16 could come on $100. So I was set to take them up Friday.

I had appointments for cats to be fixed here on that day. And I had two other appointments, for other things. I toyed with the idea of finding someone else to transport the cats to be fixed here, but then just decided to cancel all appointments for that day and did.

Saturday, the little rooster e-mails to say she's decided to take the day off and take the cats up herself. I was miffed. I knew she had probably decided long before Saturday but was just getting around to telling me.

Tonight I called her up. I wanted to discuss the idea of getting FCCO short clinics down here, at my place and she had also requested my phone number.

The little rooster was short with me from the moment she answered the phone. She said she'd given plenty of notice on deciding to transport the 16 cats herself. I hadn't even said anything about that. The little rooster was feeling guilt, an emotion I did not think her capable of. I said that I had cancelled appointments for that day down here and it was too late now to get any back.

"Not true," the little rooster snapped. She meant to say "You're lying. You never cancelled appointments." I did. She was accusing me of that to be mean and snotty.

I was shocked at her disgusting snappy attitude, but then she's known for this. What a little cocky bitch.

I had trouble with her a year ago. I was headed to a FLEX clinic and offered her some free spots, which she took. I took up about five cats for her, along with ten or so others. I even ended up paying out of pocket for two of hers, because, for some reason, the FCCO tech, tells me, when I arrive at a Flex clinic with cats, they have to come with $25 per cat and I can't get away with not having the money.

So I returned the cats late to Lebanon and the little rooster. I was exhausted. When I got home to Corvallis from delivering the cats, I did not have my fanny pack. I'd stopped only two places between the Portland Flex clinic and home. I knew it was lost or stolen at the little roosters.

I immediately called and asked her to search her shop, since she had insisted I come into her shop to see something she'd built and I was fairly sure I'd taken it in there with me. She claimed she looked and it wasn't there. Later, she refused me entrance to look and also refused a friend of mine, who wanted to go look. I ended up having to replace everything in that fanny pack. There was money, credit cards, checks, even another key to my car and my Christmas gift cards, which I'd hoped to have a chance to use in Portland that day, but hadn't.

Because my extra key was in the pack, and I figured it had been stolen, I tried to rekey the locks on my car. I took them out myself and took them to a locksmith. They were never right again, and the lock on the driver's side door broke quickly, costing me nearly a hundred more to get fixed. All the locks now open with different keys. The car's locks are a mess because of that incident.

Ten days later her husband entered the shop and found my fanny pack. She hadn't really ever looked. I couldn't believe it. She never apologized or tried to make it right. The incident cost me hundreds of dollars, above and beyond the fact I'd been helping her out and even paid the fee myself for two of the cats I took up for her.

For a year, I avoided the little rooster like the plague. Then I softened. It was stupid to soften. Leopards don't change their spots. Little roosters don't change the way they crow, either. Tonight, her behavior sealed that opinion and I blocked her e-mail address again.

My last e-mail to her stated, "Please do not contact me again. I am tired of the abuse. No more."

So the little rooster and I now have parted ways for good, I hope. She's sure a cocky one. Next time the little rooster crows too loud in my hood, I am getting out the frying pan, yes sireee!