Monday, April 30, 2007
I am taking an Adair female--tame. And I went over to a street off Western, near the stadium, to pick up four cats whose caretaker is related some way to the Sword of Fern cats. She had three outside stray females and one male needing fixed. But, unfortunately, the two younger females exited the bathroom through the open window. She'd tried to confine them in the bathroom before I came over.
So I picked up the big 8 year old female, who has faithfully popped out two to three litters since she was six months old. She just popped out one dead kitten a few days ago, and her belly is still bloated. This probably means she has more dead kittens inside her and will die if this isn't taken care of.
And I picked up the male. Then I set one trap for the escapees. I called the woman later and she said she had accidentally tripped the trap and didn't know how to reset it. So I went on over.
She was in bed by this time, because she has to be up at 5:00 a.m. for work.
I set two traps and was getting back in my car when the young gray tux female bounces up. I pick her up and put her in my car. We play for awhile, inside the car. I wasn't sure if this was the fixed or unfixed gray tux. There are two. The fixed one is older. So, using my flashlight, I looked her over. She had a bit of blood near her vagina. She's in heat. This wasn't the fixed gray tux. I was pleased!
I decided to give up and go home. I carried the gray tux out of my car and put her in one of the two traps. I was about to load it into my car, when up dances the black tux girl, sister of the gray tux. She was already pregnant. I coaxed her close and got her by the scruff then put her in the other trap. Then I came home, pretty proud of myself for getting them all in one shot.
I turn on the TV to see that Heartland has taken in 80 to 100 small breed dogs from a N. Albany collector. I'd heard of this woman, but only recently. Man alive, that's a lot of dogs. Makes me worry about Annie. I took her over to Heartland yesterday. They promised not to euthanize her due to space concerns or anything else. But they are going to have space and money issues now, with 100 small dogs that must be held while an abuse case is pending.
Actually, the mom and kittens aren't doing that great. The mother is severely malnourished, dehydrated, anemic and full of worms. I have been feeding her also by syringe and treating her eyes and worms. Some people would not worm her until the kittens are older, but the kittens have no chance if she doesn't start producing more and better quality milk, so I wormed her. I also vaccinated her, hoping to begin protection against distemper, herpes and various kitty cold viruses. Might be a bit too late, however. She's tame. Two boys, three girls of the five kittens. Their eyes aren't yet open.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
No detectable sense of community. Nothing to do. I want out. I want out now.
It's like living in hell I think, compared to Corvallis. Corvallis now seems like paradise, in memory. I go back once a week, to grocery shop, visit the Farmer's Market and hike at one of the parks.
I am exagerating some. I miss Corvallis for sure. I lived there over 30 years.
I'm stuck here, without access to anywhere to walk but along busy concrete streets. I don't know a single person in this town, which compounds my unhappiness. I can't leave, even for one night, because I don't know anyone to watch my cats.
I told my brother and asked if he would consider selling the house. He said he would, but that it might take a long long time.
I want out of here.
I took Annie to Heartland today. I had filed a Found Report with Heartland, since she was eartipped and tame. The director e-mailed back and said they'd take her in and find her a home, and promised they would not euthanize her. I took her over today, very grateful, actually.
But then, a woman who has neighbors across the road from her, who don't fix their cats, had one of their cats have kittens in her dilapidated junk filled barn. She caught the mother in a live trap after finding the week old kittens and now they're here. I'm trying to find a fosterer for them also. She has a zillion dogs, so can't foster them herself.
I had no serious calls in the four days my paper ad ran on Ebineezer Geezer. Two people called to say they thought the ad was funny, which was nice, but neither were wanting a cat. No serious calls.
Meanwhile, he is getting into fights with my cats now. They're all unhappy because they can't go outside, have no cat runs and have no open windows to sit in front of and even if I could open a window, there's nothing to look at. The cats don't like it here. So they're grumpy and irritible. It's a sorry state we're in.
Ebineezer is a wonderful loving cat. But now I can't leave him alone when I leave or at night, or he'll start a fight with one of the others. He never used to do this. His unhappiness here has compounded as the weather improves and as he gotten well. He wants outside. So do all the cats. It's a hopeless situation, really.
Friday, April 27, 2007
The FDA has conducted raids on a Menu Foods plant and Chemnutra offices. For gosh sakes, ABOUT TIME!
Seems there's been a whole lot of lying going on. The company in China Chemnutra claims supplied the tainted wheat gluten doesn't even sell wheat gluten, although they claim some of their employees cut deals for other products on the side with companies like Chemnutra.
I really regret the letter I wrote Chemnutra apologizing for the first letter I wrote them, in which I called them lying unethical anything-for-a-buck scumbags. I think that first letter I sent was probably right on target. I'll have to re-send, only with a few added words, if you get my drift.
Sounds like a whole lot of shady crapola to me. Bottom line is the actions of Chemnutra, Chinese companies and Menu foods are killing pets.
Now, in a Eugene Weekly Article about euthanasia rates at Lane County Animal Control, turns out dead cats and dogs, from Lane County, are carted off by a rendering company. Lane County pays big bucks each month for the rendering company to take dead dogs and cats. The rendering company sells the render, including that of dead dogs and cats, to pet food suppliers. But, these animals are pumped full of euthanasia drugs and those chemicals enter the canned food chain then.
Rendering companies call themselves the original recyclers. This seems like really bad recycling to me, almost like selling garbage that is repackaged and reconstituted to look and taste somewhat like food. Or forming dog shit into patty format and serving it up, overloaded in fat and garlic to drunks at bars and attaching a hefty pricetag. Like that. Some people will make money by selling anything as anything. Like con artists. You know the type.
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Diamond Brand and Chicken Soup For the Pet Lover’s Soul Recalled
Due to American Nutrition’s recall, the following Diamond Pet Food can formulations are being recalled:
Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul Kitten Formula cans
Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul Puppy Formula cans
Diamond Lamb & Rice Formula cans
UPDATE: Currently, none of the ingredients for the above Diamond products list rice protein concentrate. Diamond’s homepage still claims “WHEAT GLUTEN OR RICE PROTEIN CONCENTRATE IS NOT USED in any of our dry, canned or treat products.”
Full Release and ingredients list after the jump.
(Thanks to many readers)Diamond Pet Foods has announced it is withdrawing a limited number of canned products manufactured by American Nutrition. This action is limited to three specific canned products: Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul Kitten Formula 5.5 oz. cans, and Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul Puppy Formula 13 oz. cans, and Diamond Lamb & Rice Formula for Dogs 13 oz. cans.
Diamond Pet Foods has not received any indication of quality or safety issues, including pet illness, with the three withdrawn products.
However, because American Nutrition informed the company that these three specific products may include rice protein concentrate, Diamond Pet Foods felt this action was necessary for the protection of its customers and their pets.
Customers with these products should stop feeding them immediately and return them to their retailer for a full refund.
INGREDIENTS AS OF 4/27 5:20pm Pacific
Diamond Lamb & Rice Formula cans:
Lamb, lamb broth, lamb liver, rice flour, dried egg product, fish meal, dried beet pulp, lamb meal, vitamins and minerals.
Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul Kitten Formula cans:
Chicken, salmon, chicken liver, turkey, duck, chicken broth, whole grain brown rice, white rice, oatmeal, potatoes, barley, egg product, guar gum, flaxseed meal, kelp, carrots, peas, apples, dried skim milk, cranberry powder, rosemary extract, parsley flake, taurine, dried chicory root, carrageenan gum, vitamin A acetate, vitamin D3 supplement, vitamin E supplement, niacin supplement, D-calcium pantothenate, riboflavin supplement, thiamine mononitrate, pyridoxine hydrochloride, vitamin B12 supplement, biotin, folic acid, menadione sodium bisulfite (source of vitamin K), copper sulfate, calcium iodate and sodium selenite.
Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul Puppy Formula cans:
Chicken, chicken liver, turkey, chicken broth, duck, salmon, whole grain brown rice, white rice, oatmeal, carrots, peas, potatoes, barley, egg product, guar gum, flaxseed meal, kelp, apples, dried skim milk, cranberry powder, rosemary extract, parsley flake, dried chicory root, carrageenan gum, vitamin A acetate, vitamin D3 supplement, ascorbic acid, niacin supplement, calcium pantothenate, riboflavin supplement, thiamine mononitrate, pyridoxine hydrochloride, vitamin B12 supplement, biotin, folic acid, zinc sulfate, ferrous sulfate, manganese sulfate, copper sulfate, calcium iodate and sodium selenite.
I already had been told about the extreme neighborhood disputes. Neighbors accusing neighbors. Neighbors calling cops on neighbors. Suspicions of pet poisonings. Just plain hatred of people against people.
Two strays that had existed only days before, now missing. Two others hit on the road and dead now, in the last three days. I looked at this innocent kitty, huddling in my arms and I stuffed her back into my carrier, nearly in tears, and I tore out of there not looking back.
I know I have too many cats I'm trying to feed and place already.
I also knew it was a death sentence for her, to leave her there in the midst of howling human wolves. I just wanted to cover her in my arms and protect her. She didnt' do anything wrong at all.
It's a curse, my heart, my love of strays, my empathy with them. It's a curse, I tell you, a curse.
So she's with me now and happy, purring her head off. Happy. My heart is beating, too, with trepidition. How will I find them homes? How will I find good homes? They're vanishing, like decency, like selflessness.
I'm going to call her Annie, after Ann Frank, the innocent child, who hid, in the midst of howling packs of bloodthirsty humans.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Well, the news media latches onto anything that might bring ratings. Truth is often not part of the equation. Or balance. I ain't watching CNN no more, seeing the lies I've seen in the last few days about the mental health system.
I need to say this. The clients of the mental health system I"ve known have been by far more loving, caring, kind and nonviolent individuals than the individuals I've met who are not clients of the mental health system.
So Anderson Cooper's sensationist reports, highlighting a few violent mentally ill people's actions, are very harmful to the masses of people labeled mental or who have experienced false labeling by mental health quacks, and there are a lot of them out there, or who have been abused by the mental health system. HIs reports so far have been extremely unbalanced. I never expected this from him. In fact, myself and a few girlfriends, have joked off and on over the last years, about having crushes on Anderson Cooper. Up until now, that is. Now, forget it!
Sorry CNN lovers out there. But now I know CNN lies like pancakes on a griddle. It's not just FOX, sorry to say, to any liberals reading, who lies. I think I'm going to recycle my TV. I just don't see much use for it anymore.
Last night, I actually got an answer when I called the number in Philomath given me by a friend of the people, saying they needed cats fixed. The cat my friend found on the road, injured, was one of the cats these folks knew and fed. Coincidence? Anyhow, they had three kittens from a stray mom of last year, in a carrier and ready, when I got there. The photo above is of the pregnant female.
I set traps and caught the gray tabby they believe might be spayed. She has lived under their rental since they moved in. Then I caught a big male. I didn't look at him closely until I got home, very late, rather, early in the morning. He has an EARTIP!
And this is the male I trapped who already sports a right eartip. They didn't take him to a clinic. Who did, I wonder. But it is nice to be trapped strays someone feeds and find a cat already eartipped that they didn't trap and get fixed. Makes one think progress is happening. I left two traps set and now cannot get ahold of the woman. Line is constantly busy. She said she would call by 7:00 a.m. to let me know if another was caught, so I assume another was not caught.
UPDATE: THIS MORNING THE COUPLE CALLED TO SAY THEY ARE KEEPING SISKIYOU AND WILL FOLLOW MY ADVICE ON HOW TO GET HER BACK TO USING A LITTERBOX. They will have more money now, since renting, and out from under that increasing mortgage, they said, and will be able to take Siskiyou to the vet routinely and get flea and worming done. I will start them out by providing them three months flea and worm treatment.
So below info, on her return, is old now.
In other disturbing news, one of the adult Boondoggle cats is being returned this morning. A Florence couple adopted two of the now deceased Misty's kittens, plus the adult Boondoggie "Siskiyou". They have lost their home, due to his job loss and a variable rate mortgage increase, and are moving into a rental in Vancouver. They say the rental allows only two cats. They are taking Bear, one of Misty's kittens, and a cat they had before adopting the three Boondoggies. Jazz, the little long hair black female kitten of Misty's, died.
This news saddened me greatly. It's not enough that Misty, her mother, was torn apart by a coyote outside of Philomath at her adoptors house? And now Jazz, one of her daughters, has also died. Jazz died of a congenital defect related to blood flow through the liver.
The people bringing back Siskiyou claim she has sores all over her body from a flea allergy and no longer uses the litterbox. Allegedly they could no longer afford flea treatment for the cats. This is all just fucking sucks. I'm worn out from being out way too early this morning at the Sword of Fern house. I'm worried now because I left the two traps set and can't get ahold of them. And now I must prepare for the return of a Boondoggle cat with health and behavioral issues.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Both messages were left by the woman of the couple, an hour before I listened to them. They were desperate, stating her husband was going crazy and chasing the cats, being mean to them and she needed me to come get them now for their safety. I didn't know what to think.
I tried calling and he answered, but wouldn't even talk, just made wierd noises and hung up. I thought he must be high on something. I didn't want to go over alone, however.
So I called the Dick, the councilman, who reluctantly came over. He was involved in watching Nova, he said. I said "you don't have to come. I don't even know if it's a real emergency or if he is going nuts, as there seems to be a tendency towards exageration over there."
But he came. Good old Dick. Government in action.
So we went over. V came to the back door and said everything was fine, that her husband had left. I'd seen Trooper out back, so I knew he was ok. I said "why didn't you call and let me know?"
Seems the guy they'd briefly let stay there, had broken back into their place and stolen over $200---their rent money. Her husband went nuts over it, which is very understandable. The guy had no place to stay and they have soft hearts. He had claimed he had a job, claimed he'd been through rehab and that this time it "took" and could he stay for a few weeks and he'd even help pay rent. So they let him stay.
I knew the guy. I'd run across him when fixing cats at College Park. You know, the place over run with cats where I got over 70 fixed, where cats were abandoned every week.
He and his girlfriend were into drugs big time. They had a kitten. I got her fixed. Then they failed to pay rent, due to their collective habits, and even the water got turned off, so they'd fill buckets of water at neighbors to flush the toilet. He once came to the door, when I was trying to find another kitten, being passed around by tenants, and stolen back and forth, in a sheet and couldn't even tell me what planet he was on.
So when I saw him, when returning Trooper after his dental, I had serious doubts he could be staying clean. I figured it would sour. It did, real fast, and they kicked him out.
So I guess he robbed them today, when they were at school. Guess some neighbors saw him break in through the back. Guess they're going to press charges. But in the meantime, I hope the husband doesn't get into big trouble out looking for the loser. Not that the loser's ass shouldn't be kicked. It should get kicked.
I'd like to kick it myself, thinking of that kitten they had and the kid and the dog, and still neither he nor his girl could quit the white stuff they valued higher than a kitten, a dog and a kid combined. But let his ass get kicked by some cops and a judge right into the penn, where it belongs.
So anyhow, Dick brought me back and we chatted awhile. He was tired, as he's always tired. He and his wife recently split, which seemed sad to me. So he left. I didn't make it to Walnut street to trap. So tomorrow, I'll just have the Lacomb torbi tux to take up, and she's just a teen and pregnant. Her mother got killed by the people's dog. Both the mother and this teen, then a kitten, got dumped off by somebody. Now she's pregnant and the impregnator is probably her brother's cat, who she is attempting to catch tonight, although she hasn't seen him in a couple of days.
And a Sweet Home woman will take in two strays she just caught, also dumps, herself, to the clinic. And I'll be picking up JonnytheBeaver's girl in the morning to take up. Four cats, when I could have trapped two or three more, over on Walnut tonight, had there not been more boondoggie drama going down. But oh well. If somebody I helped stole my rent money, I'd be upset too. Some people just suck.
His nature contrasts sharply with the personality of Ebineezer Geezer, who wanders around like a rusty tank itching for a good war. Ebineezer is short hair, tough skinned and can't shake the male urge to dominant. Takes only a slight trigger, for him to take the offensive, even though, oddly enough, he gets the short end of any fight he picks.
He picks fights with the likes of Bangor, a huge Maine coon female, who is also polydactyl, and who could, if she wanted to, rip him to mincemeat. He does have multiple scratch wounds around his neck from picking fights with the wrong cats. He's really stupid that way. He's only picked three fights in the months he's been here. I would guess, after picking one with the ferocious Bangor, he might give up fighting altogether. Bangor is a very sweet cat, but she is smart and athletic and could rip any cat to pieces. She gave Ebineezer some serious scratches, when he went after and cornered her, and he deserved every one of them. He hasn't fought since. But he's not brightly lit in so much as his male domination hormonal memory overrides all common sense. He can't somehow let his brain rule. Poor cat. He's been neutered now about three months. He went all his life following his penis. So that memory is strong in him still. It'll die out.
He picked one fight with Moby, who defended himself well. And, moments later, was nuzzling his attacker in attempts at reconciliation. Moby's my ghandi guy, and, although long neutered, quite probably is biologically gay. Sometimes I sit and giggle, to think of the groups of people and churches who argue about the morality of being gay. For gosh sakes, it's so obviously biology and not choice.
Last Thursday, an 8th cat, a female, was fixed from the Alsea unfixed crowd. They were going to bring in two more females, but couldn't catch one, after the hubbub of catching seven to bring in the Tuesday before. So they still have that one female, plus the two who had already had litters, to get fixed. But 8 have been fixed from there now, including five females. A single mom brought me her female, which I took up for fixing last Thursday. And another owned Albany female, plus a stray Albany male were fixed last Thursday.
Tomorrow, I am taking up JonnytheBeaver's female. He contacted me off the craigslist spay offer I posted. I just call the man Jonnythebeaver because that's his e-mail handle and he's an OSU student. And I'm going to go try to catch a pregnant Lacomb female and her impregnator. This woman contacted the FCCO coordinator a month ago. He had not contacted her back until yesterday and found out the cat is pregnant and probably needs done immediately, so he gave me her number. So those two, plus Jonnythebeaver's girl and two Sweet Home males are going in tomorrow.
Black cats are hard to adopt out. And actually, her disability might give her a better chance at getting a home.
Scooter is the most playful and fun loving of the four Lebanon ragamuffins. Panda is the pissiest of the four, but is actually warming up. She's also growing faster than any of them.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Can you believe that?
Can you believe kids and adults turn off their own minds and consciences to abide by this brainless sugar fed believe anything a corporation puts on a T-shirt or that comes out of the foul mouth of a millionaire rapper--cowardly crapola?
Independent thinking, brains and courage seem to be dying traits.
Anderson Cooper asked this rapper "What if a serial killer lived next door to you and you knew he was killing people. Would you turn him in?" The rapper said "No. Maybe I'd move. But I wouldn't turn him in." Gawd. This guy needs sent to Iraq.
Meanwhile, nine more soldiers were killed in Iraq today. Philly struggles with rising murder rates. Nurse guilty of dismembering her husband. Man kills Houston Complex Manager, Self. And there is a high demand for cancer vaccine in N.H. (just reading off the internet news stream at top of screen).
Sunday, April 22, 2007
I could call the cops. But cops and me don't mesh well. I don't know what it is. Oh, wait, yes I do know. Let's see, some really horrible experiences with them when I was considered mental or homeless. And then there was the recent case when I transported an injured cat up to a vet, trapped by a woman who had permission to trap any collector's cats who ended up on her porch. Only the cops came after me, threatening to charge me with stealing a cat, when things blew up between the trapping neighbor and the collector. So yeah, why would I call the cops?
I will take care of this. Am I worried about retaliation? Only if I call the cops, which I'm not going to do. Maybe some other neighbor tired of getting pelted when the kids miss their target, which happens about every other shot, will call the cops on the miserable little brats. They don't speak English.
My own safety is a concern, with brats living over the back fence, who don't care about shooting in the direction of a neighbor at all. Parents were back there at the same time. In fact a mess of adults were back there. None spoke English. They don't seem to care what their kids do.
They don't know English so how in the hell can I tell them to stop it? And why would I bother talking to the adults, when they're right there, letting it go on, and know I'm right on the other side of the fence?
Today I would have been shot had the pellets gone through the cracks in the fence boarding, instead of hitting the boards. I stewed over it, because I couldn't stay back there, because of the danger of being shot. Those pellets can hurt you. They can penetrate. They can take out more than an eye.
This is what I'm going to learn to yell in Spanish "I will call the policia if you shoot those guns!" And "Stop shooting Now!" Anybody out there know Spanish?
Ebineezer is unhappy and now is getting an infection from scratches and bites in a fight he started with Bangor. He needs to start on antibiotics.
Furby has been going downhill for awhile now. She is one of the Lebanon ragamuffins. She never was playful like the others. I began suspecting she is a wobbles kitten a couple weeks ago. Today, I'm not sure what it is she has. She'll just lay on the floor where I put her. When she tries to lap food, she'll lap a couple inches shy of the plate. Her head shakes, which is the original reason I began to suspect wobbles. This is the age it would really start showing.
Wobbles cats are kittens whose mother gets distemper when they were in the womb. The fever damages the kittens brains however or neurological development. They can also be cats who survived distemper as a kitten, but the high fever damaged their brains. They are mentally retarded, and often will begin to vibrate, shake or lose physical balance when they attempt to concentrate. This is very noticable when they try to eat. Concentration will tire them out. They often walk funny. Some can't walk at all.
She has tested negative for FIV/Felk. And yet I still have suspicions about her in that regard, for some reason. I shouldn't. Two of the other ragamuffins also tested negative. I need to drop that phobia from my mind. Then I began to suspect a heart defect. As a kitten grows, any tiny heart problem they are born with, and these are common in cats, gets bigger. She's cold. Too cold. That's usually a heart issue. I knew there was something not quite right with her.
When I was taking those cats back, those 11 cats I trapped, when there were supposed to be just four, to that colony in Lebanon, I was going to return her also. But she began crying in the trap, just crying, which isn't normal with a feral. So I kept her here, with the three others. Maybe just another coincidence?
Or maybe it wasn't meant, by the God of Cats, that she die of a congenital heart disease under a filthy drug infested apartment complex in Lebanon alone and cold and unloved and unnoticed.
I want to cry tonight. I want to just cry. This sweet little ragamuffin Furby isn't going to make it. I wanted to give her a beautiful life.
The process is entirely subjective. There are no medical tests that diagnose or detect mental illness.
More violence is committed against those labeled mentally ill than perpetrated by those labeled mentally ill. Many people labeled mentals die in treatment from abuse or from unmonitored psyche drug interactions or side affects.
More people are killed by far in incidents of domestic violence than by those labeled mentals.
There is a lot of meth addiction related violence. The sad part is, those folks are labeled mentally ill often, after the fact, after their brain chemistry has been altered by use of meth amphetimine. These aren't mental illnesses. This is brain damage.
Some psyche drugs, including some anti-depressants, have been known to induce suicidal behavior or violence in the person taking the drug. This is more common in young people. Both Columbine killers I believe were taking anti-depressants. I do not know if the VA Tech killer was or wasn't.
This evening, on the news, I heard the President of VA Tech stating the university needs to know the identities of anyone labeled with mental illnesses who are students. He said they need to weigh the rights of an individual against the greater good of keeping students safe.
What does this statement do? It throws all mental illnesses together and describes the unfortunate labeled person as potentially dangerous. This is nuts.
This backlash against those labeled mental will prevent people who truely need help from going to get help, fearful of being labeled mental and automatically considered dangerous.
I suppose this only makes me discouraged of ever achieving vindication of my name. I was labeled when young, quickly and subjectively, and thrust into a brutal system, of forced drugging, of abuse, of patronization, of lifelong poverty and meaninglessness. I sought help because of my low self-esteem. I'd been put down by my father throughout my childhood and fondled by him as I grew. I was also isolated away in a small church and church schools.
When I hit the real world, OSU, I had no clue how to survive. I became very depressed and attempted suicide. I was sent to the counselling center who sent me to the university shrink who made a rather instant diagnosis of schizophrenia. My life was over.
For the next 30 some years, I tried to maintain hope. I was in and out of hospitals. I was labeled this and that. I was tied down naked on restraint tables and had drugs injected into me. I had no idea this world existed. At Oregon State Hospital, the misery was unbelievable. Sometimes rotten food. Absolutely no recreation. A bathroom for over 25 women with only two working toilets and one sometimes working shower. How could this be called a hospital? I was brutalized there. Years later, I read a letter directly to the director of Oregon State Hospital, detailing the abuse I'd endured at a place the state dared call a "hospital". It was my first attempt at self-advocacy. It was the first time I stood up to my state paid abusers.
There were other abuses. The most notable was the beating delivered by staff in the isolation room of Portland Adventist a few days before Christmas in 1998. I was then released into a snow and ice storm, without shoes or coat. I wandered into Mall 205. The kindness of strangers overwhelmed me. Someone bought me a pop. And a man selling handmade wooden letters and numbers came and talked to me. Then he disappeared. When he returned, he brought with him two pair of socks he'd just bought for me. He put one pair on my frozen feet himself. This act of kindness changed my life.
He told me I wasn't crazy, that they were. He asked me if I had ever beaten anyone or even wanted to. I said "No." He said "See? There you have it. Get away from them." I did.
To my surprise, I immediately got better, very better. I was shocked. I'd really believed all those decades that I was brain faulty. Now, I was angry. I had lost 30 years to lies! I thought people would want to know. I began talking, not only about how I got better after leaving the mental health system but about the abuses, too.
I got shocked again. NObody and I mean nobody wanted to hear this. There are a lot of stakeholders in the mental health industry, from pharmaceuticals giving doctors bonuses for prescribing this or that new psyche drug, to some NAMI parents, anxious to blame a brain disease rather than admit some of their kids problems arise because of very bad parenting.
I met opposition, condemnation and sometimes even threats for speaking up. This wasn't easy to endure. I finally gave it up--I concluded nobody cared about the atrocities I had endured within a system that was supposed to be helping, or that I had been mislabeled and that this had drastically affected my life, stolen 30 some years of it, and made it nearly impossible for me to find gainful employment, given my labels and decades without any work history.
It was all quite eye opening.
And so I began helping the cats. Afterall, it was a colony of river ferals who helped me, more so than three decades of shrinks, forced drugs and 11 years staring at walls in the Benton Plaza ever had, that's for sure.
Lately, I've considered trying to find a job. I realize there's not much hope for me to find a job that pays enough for self-sustainment. I'm not going to, I've determined, not now. Not after the VA Tech killer ignited fury with his fury, again against people labeled mentally ill. Doesn't matter the backlash is shy on facts. Never has mattered.
I'll stick with the cats. They love me. They have always loved me. And I them.
I called them to me. They were all over me---a big black and white skinny as all get out neutered male and Hopi, who wasn't even six months old. I couldn't leave them, so I asked them to follow me. They did, but the male was too weak and collapsed, so I laid him over one arm. I carried him across the busy highway, and just put him into my car, then went back for the little girl. She was terrified of the traffic, however, and would dart out of reach. She'd followed me to the edge of the highway, clear from underneath the bridge. But she'd been scared of every sound in the dark bushes along the way.
I reluctantly left her, and took the male home. I'd just moved into a duplex on Coolidge. I slept fitfully for a few hours, on my couch. I didn't have a bed yet. Then I returned to the same spot with a carrier. I didn't have to look for her. She was hiding beneath a bush by the road and the moment I opened the carrier, she ran out from under the bush and into it. She wasn't going to be left behind!
Since the male cat was neutered, I placed an ad in the paper. A woman answered the ad and came armed with two photograph albums of photos of her cat "Servana" who had disappeared two months earlier. She said they had forty pictures of Servana taped on their front door, hoping karma would bring him home. When I showed her Hopi, and asked what her connection to Servana was, she said "oh my gawd." Hopi had been a stray kitten in their neighborhood. Servana had befriended the desperate alone little kitten and would sneak her into neighborhood houses to eat. I believe a cat hating neighbor likely took both and dumped them in the country. Servana tried to lead them home, but the river stopped him. How could he find a way across that river? Both were nearly starved to death--just skin and bones.
I was Servana and Hopi's bridge. On the fifth of July, the city of Corvallis's contractor bulldozed the entire area where they were existing to prepare a staging area for riprap, which later would be dumped along the west bank of the Willamette by a barge. The day I rescued them would have otherwise been their last day on Earth.
I look into Hopi's eyes still, and wonder, "Is there a god of the cats?" Sometimes I don't believe in so much coincidence.
And yet, it feels slightly awkward, in a way. The day the shooting took place, I think was the day close to 150 Iraqis were killed in bombings. Every day they die over there. Kids, teens, young adults, old folks. The horrors of all these killings all over the world is unbelievable. Are losses in VA more important than violent deaths in Iraq and other places, even in America? The after effects of voilence, anywhere, upon the world, will remain, tainting us, as have all the killings before, from time's beginning. Won't we ever stop?
I heard one VA Tech survivor say he watched his professor be shot and die and that it was awful and he never wanted to see anything like that again.
Will his experience resinant or be remembered? Will it become a step towards a peaceful world? If a professor dies horribly here and a young man swears he never wants to see such a violent death again?
All the bloodshed around the world is horrible. Why do we see the solution, to so many things, as violence?
Even with cats. I got into at Coastal Farms today with a manager. He seemed so nice at first. He claimed he was a dreamer. Then we began talking about cats. He said he'd taken a trap home from Coastal and was trying to trap ferals in his neighborhood. He began ranting about the low income complex people nearby who feed strays and don't fix their pets.
I said, "What are you doing with the cats you trap?"
He said he's an animal lover, that he doesn't kill them but he takes them to the Humane Society. I said you know they kill them, the moment you take them in. "Well, somebody needs to. I don't want them around my place."
I offered the solution. I told him about the FCCO in Salem, their clinics and the grant there, to help fix Salem cats, and about Salem Friends of Felines, too. "So," I said, "there's a solution. It might take work, harder work than just killing them, but there's a solution. And it's far more permanent"
The Coastal Farms man became angry that I should even consider that he should do anything but kill them. I thought to myself, "He's a dreamer all right and that's about it."
He also sees solutions in violence, killing, death. No matter the cats are victims. No matter killing a few feral cats doesn't solve anything. We have a violence loving instant gratification society.
Here's another cop out. I saw David Ariqette interviewed. I know I spelled his last name wrong. He is starring in some movie about to come out, I think. It's supposedly very violent. So some interviewer was asking him what the movie industry's role might be in desensitizing people to violence. He dodged the question and immediately placed blame on the Iraq war. I thought that cowardly yet typical of Hollywood types.
I saw another interview with a woman claiming there's too much TV violence. Another person in the debate was saying TV doesn't affect actions. She retorted "then why would people advertise on TV, if TV wouldn't be likely to make them go out and buy that product? It'd be a waste of advertising revenue." She had a point.
I saw the killer's video. It was very scarey to watch. At first, I looked away. It was like he was looking directly at me, and anyone watching it and spewing his hatred and anger. It was very difficult to see such rage after knowing what he did and knowing there are other people out there, just as angry and distorted, with access to weapons.
It must have been hard for the survivors and families to see that, knowing their children saw him that way, only in person and that he killed or hurt them. I don't think they should have shown that on TV. I really don't. I also think it could be a triggering factor in spawning copycat incidents.
Hard day today, actually. I went and recouped the two traps at the Lacomb colony. I had taken the two traps out and set them up selectively last week. I expected them to easily trap one if not both the remaining unfixed females. I left messages three times during the day, asking for a progress report, since I didn't want to waste reservations and if they had not caught any, I"d look to fill the reservations elsewhere. In the end, I left a message stating I would like to come out and just catch them myself, explaining the problem again of wasting reservations. I never heard from them all day.
Finally, after 5:30 p.m., one of them called and said they'd decided not to trap and just to rest up and maybe trap again next week. I called them back immediately and said, "do you realize you just wasted my reservations for tomorrow?" They didn't seem to care.
Neither would they physically return my traps. Today I went and fetched them back myself. She wouldn't even carry them out of the barn. Nor were they clean. I shook my head, when driving away, in disbelief. How do people get off on acting that way?
So anyhow, they're off my list. They can pay for their own barn cats to be fixed and buy a trap and trap the cats without my help.
It was right after that I went to Coastal Farms and ended up in the conversation with the employee who is trying to trap ferals up in Salem, where he lives, to be killed.
So it's been kind of a hard day. I came home and just sacked out in front of the TV. But the shows on were all re-runs. So I fell asleep instead.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Old Scully---a Willametter River Cat.
Old old Butterscotch. Butterscotch was abandoned young and spayed on the OSU campus. She took up residence behind Fairbanks Hall and lived beneath the back porch for years. I trapped her after she became ill from bark mulch spread by a landscaping crew back of Fairbanks. She survived, although she was not expected to survive, and is still here with me, almost two years later. She is old and I mean old. She is also mostly deaf and partially blind. Some of these latter disabilities came as a result of whatever chemicals or toxins were in the bark mulch that nearly killed her. But anyhow, I brush her, with the "long distance comb", a grooming brush taped to a stick.
I tried telling my brother that today. I don't want to hurt his feelings. He bought this house, to rent to me, so I would not end up on the streets, after I was evicted from my Corvallis shack by the slumlady.
I know I don't need neighbors to like me. If this were a straight street it'd be a whole lot easier than trying to find a niche in a middle class conservative cul-de-sac. Then there's the issue with this house being different than the others in that the garage is out back, so the house sticks out towards the street more than any other houses on the block and a half, all with garages up front. I don't have anywhere to turn for privacy except for inside the garage. Even with my blinds closed, I know the house is sticking out, and don't feel privacy.
I suppose my low self-esteem, my status, the fact I've endured years of abuses and labels, makes me feel very vulnerable in a new place where there's nowhere to hide.
It's very hard to move to a new town and into an established cul-de-sac as a newcomer.
I'm not a normal newcomer. They see all the cats in the windowsills. They see people drive up with cats in traps and leave without them. I tried to be friendly for the first month. It didn't work out. Now I have given up.
The first thing anyone asks, when you meet them, is what kind of work do you do? My answer is humane cat control. Then they want to know who would employ someone in that kind of work. I usually break down, during such interogations and tell the truth. I finally say "I'm a volunteer." I am a volunteer and I'm proud to be a volunteer. But in America, if you don't work, people start talking and wondering why.
When I was evicted, I was scared. I was more scared for my cats than for myself. I thought, maybe if I can find homes for my cats, I'll take off and just live in my car, camping out. I am so at home with the stars and the night and the forest and rivers. But I am not at home at all in Albany, Oregon, on this cul-de-sac.
Then my brother wanted to be the hero. And he was. He bought the house with money, my share he said, from my father's estate and now rents it to me. But he could sell it, probably even make a profit. Or he could rent it to someone else. In the short time I've been here, I've already made improvements, as is my way.
My joys are gone. And the cats don't like it here. They can't go outside. They have no cat runs and nothing interesting to look at out the windows.
I had the little private yard I built at the shack in Corvallis. There were cat doors in the kitchen and off the little hot water heater room that accessed the cat yard. I'd sit in the hot water heater room, if it was raining, in the dark, since there was no light in that room, with the back door open. The back door also opened into the contained cat yard. I'd sit there, sipping morning coffee, or in the evening or even at night, watching the cats play and the stars or the rain pour down. I'd sit out in my very private cat yard nights, under the stars, or lay on my back, with the cats running around me and over me, on the grass, staring into the night sky.
I know there were a lot of problems with that shack and with that slumlady who owned it. I know I romanticize the memory some.
I can't open windows here. I can't see the stars because of all the lights. I tried to tell my brother these things, but he wants me to stay and says I'll get used to it. I don't want to get used to it.
It's been hard the last two weeks. Lonely and difficult. I e-mailed HUD and said I'm not making it here, the income differential of myself and the others on this block make it too hard for me to feel comfortable.
I have the issues, the abuse issues, makes me always feel not worthy, not good enough. I just want to be accepted, or, barring that, I want to be happy. What makes me happy is fresh air, forest, rivers, night sky, animals.
There's been a stray around for awhile. When I first moved in, I asked the old man who that cat was. He said he's been around, said he didn't think he had a home anywhere. The old man told me who had cats on the cul-de-sac and who didn't. The old man's nice. He's gone now. He took a job that keeps him gone for many days at a time. I also went around several nearby streets talking to people, not just about him, hoping he had a home, but also about if they had cats needing fixed. I found several needing fixed. Some people knew this cat, because they had a cat he was either fighting or impregnating, but nobody would claim him as theirs, which disappointed me.
But anyhow, the cat would try to fight nights with my cats through the windows. Old Sal is the one who really gets going over another cat through the window. You wouldn't think, he's so old, but boy does he get stirred up, swatting and even biting at the window.
Then the stray started sneaking into my garage, when I'd have it open, spray marking it up and even finding a place to sleep in the garage. I've been worried about that. Cats die sometimes in garage doors opening or closing. So I finally got him neutered. I"d been feeding him outside. I asked SafeHaven about maybe taking him in, but they said "no". And it's impossible now for me to find adult cats homes. I just get no hits anymore off petfinder or the fliers I post around.
I had him in the garage last week for three days at least. Now I haven't seen him for a day and it makes me sad tonight. I don't know why. Guess I'm deeply depressed. Guess I'm worried about the weekend, with all the neighbors home. I just want to go home.
I"ve thought about just packing and leaving. I'd send my brother a note to explain the reasons and tell him his house is empty, that he should rent it out or sell it.
I live one life. That's all I get. Why would I stay where I am unhappy? Why would I not take every risk I could to find a way out--to find happiness?
And so, I am searching for a way out, a way that will not leave my cats homeless, a way that will not hurt my brother's feelings. I want to find a place to live where I can live my life peacefully and be accepted by any neighbors. I want to find a place where I can see the stars and breathe fresh air as I sleep with the windows wide open.
UPDATE: Since writing this, I've received a few e-mails. The gist of the e-mails is startling to me. Most people seem to think being alone is preferrable to any social contact at all and that it is very normal in America to live next to people for even decades and never even know their names. Most people who e-mailed seem to think it is abnormal of me to want social contact and to be friendly with neighbors. Maybe I'm getting old and the younger people on the planet are even more jaded than I about humans or have grown up substituting computers for face to face contact.
Is it abnormal to want to know your neighbors and have routine social contact?
What do you think?
Friday, April 20, 2007
Perhaps two Chinese companies spiked wheat and corn gluten and rice protein with melamine, to up the price, because it ups the protein test levels of the product. The Chinese companies continued to do so, with a shipment stopped this week in Portland of contaminated rice protein, with total disregard for the buyers and the poisoned product. They already knew melamine was killing American pets. And now South African dogs.
Nuke China now!
Free trade is costing our pets their lives. Ain't worth it to me.
Forget Iran. Nuke China.
The Chinese government refuses to cooperate in the investigation. They don't care. I can't think of anything the government of China cares about. I'm trying, but I can't come up with a single thing.
Wars have begun over much smaller concerns.
China is killing our pets for money. They also pirate our wares and steal our jobs. Their pollution spreads across the mid Willamette Valley now every summer.
Nuke em. That'll teach em. We Americans love our pets. Kill Fido? Kill Fluffy? You die, Chinese scumbags!
I will achieve glory in battle avenging the deaths of American dogs and cats. Oh, even now, I thrill to the thought. Or maybe that's just gas from supper I'm feeling.
The war shall be called: The Companion Animal War! Or, shall it be called, Fido and Fluffy's China Revenge? Well, the name of the war can be chosen later by a major network news reporter in an accidental phrase.
I am thinking of creating a raft from my largest innertube, stockpiling it with coffee, pop tarts, cable TV and a Soduku book and setting sail tomorrow to wage war, alone if I must, upon China. It would be so much easier to just nuke them from a distance, at least on me.
Or, perhaps it would be best, to fly part way, rather than paddle that darn raft. Yes, fly maybe to Hawaii and lay over there for a month, to gain my strength for the battle, laying on the beach. Yes, that's it. What a good idea. Lay over in Hawaii for a month at least, for strength, which I'll need. I'm so weak, maybe it should be two months in Hawaii.
Where do I enlist?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
The pet food industry is really starting to look money grubbing, shoddy, unethical and uncaring.
Meanwhile, tracking the contaminated rice protein has proven difficult. One shipment was sent to manufacturers of five different brands. One of those is Diamond and Diamond manufacturers Costco's Kirkland brand dog and cat food. So, I'm about to check and see if the dry cat food I've been feeding my cats contains rice protein, not that it would be listed. I now realize manufactured pet food is pretty much junk.
Good news. Here is what Diamond says on their website: Diamond Pet Foods does not use wheat gluten or rice protein in any of their dry, canned or treat products! Yay. Maybe Kirkland cat food is safe! Yay!
I have begun making my own, but have not made enough yet to completely replace all the commercial cat food I feed. I bought one bag of an expensive brand that contains no filler whatsoever.
THANK YOU, Tina, at Animal Crackers, for donating part of the cost.
Oh, and another thing, my photo is in today's Gazette Times. A reporter and photographer came out of the courthouse when I was standing there with my signs, regarding the sentencing of the frat boy involved in shooting a homeless man, and, snapped my photo. M had happened along and stood holding one of my homemade signs for an hour. I stood in front of the courthouse about four hours, some of that time in pouring rain and hail. My back began to hurt very badly after that length of time standing still and I finally had to give it up.
The short paragraph accompanying the photo says we were expressing "outrage". I told M tonight, when she called to tell me about the photo, that we'd need to better practise our "outrage" look, because most of the time, we were joking around and smiling. Joking and smiling probably are not very good expressions of proper "outrage". We should have composed a chant, I suppose, too.
At one point, a man came by on a bike and said I must not have known the victim, because he's an asshole. I said, "There are a lot of assholes out there. In fact, I think assholeness is epidemic. Changes nothing. And beside, it's not the point."
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Despite the DA's plea for the maximum sentence, five years, the Benton County Circuit judge imposed a five month sentence. PATHETIC!
Corvallis is a community that says they celebrate diversity. Well that judge doesn't. This is inequity. This is injustice.
If Sanderson, the homeless man, had shot the frat boy, the sentence would have been different. This is a case of a poor man getting no justice for a crime of hate and violence deliberately committed against him--for fun.
This is a case of the difference in justice one receives, if a person is rich or a person is poor in Corvallis, Oregon.
Justice and money should not sleep in the same bed. Justice and societal position should not sleep in the same bed.
When inequities occur, people feel it. They become disenfranchised. They feel unwanted and unworthy. I know this from personal experience.
Liberty and justice for all!
Call the Benton County District Court and file a complaint against this sentence and this judge! The number is: 541-766-6828.
Write a letter to the presiding judge, not the judge in the case. The presiding judge (head honcho judge) is Judge Williams.
Include the case number which is: CMO621415 and the defendant's name, which is: Joshua Grimes. Send the letter to: Benton County Circuit Court; PO box 1870; Corvallis; OR; 97339.
Write a letter to the editor of the local paper, the Gazette Times (www.gazettetimes.com). On top menu options click "contact us" to get to an online form for submission of a letter to the editor.
I hope to get people together for protest of injustice, of inequity in Corvallis. If interested in helping or participating, contact me at: email@example.com.
Two more females will be fixed Thursday from their hordes, along with an owned Albany female and possibly two more from the Lacomb colony. Three of the Lacomb colony cats, all three pregnant, were fixed last week. That colony still has two unfixed females and three unfixed males. One of the females is quite pregnant. I took them traps today and set them up to selectively trap, so they can target the females first, for Thursday.
A dog rescue has two of my traps, attempting to catch two more cats who showed up there, in the barn. I helped Fran trap four or five cats a couple months ago, for fixing. Now more are showing up. Many cats dumped there don't make it long, because they make the mistake of running through a dog kennel and that kennel may house a cat killing dog. Many cats have died in the open dog play yard, too, after being torn apart by the dogs.
I have not turned up, as of yet, any big colonies, to trap for the May 6 FCCO clinic. I have reservations for 20 cats. Last I heard from the coordinator, only 45 cats had been registered for the clinic. It is the day after OSU's Pet Day, which makes it difficult to recruit both cats and volunteers.
Generally, the moment I hear of an unfixed colony, I get it fixed, often within a week or two of hearing about it.
SafeHaven also told me the NeuterScooter is coming to both Albany and Sweet Home. I don't know when or anything else about that. They only fix cats and the cost is $40 per cat, if prepaid, with free vaccines included, and $50 if you pay day of clinic.
The Lacomb colony is in a beautiful area. It's so beautiful out there. This woman moved from Utah, stating she moved to get away from persecution by the Mormons. I've heard this before. I heard it from a couple who now live in a new Albany development. If you're not of their religion, in certain neighborhoods in Utah, you get persecuted. So she moved to Oregon to get away from the Utah Mormons.
On the way back from dropping off traps at the Lacomb colony, I stopped in at the Slaugherhouse colony caretakers trailer. She was home. She said two weeks ago she had a kidney removed. She'd gotten sudden severe stomach pains. So they did a bunch of extended tests on her gall bladdar, over a week, and yes, it was kind of clogged up. But in an incidental find, it was discovered she had a large tumor inside her right kidney.
They told her 93% of these tumors are cancerous. They did lots of tests to see if it had spread. They found nothing else. So she had the kidney removed. Biopsy of the tumor indicated it was benign. She was happy.
So she's still sore. I went across the road and got her mail for her. She says she doesn't think any new cats have showed up and that they are all fixed now. I was relieved and yet skeptical. She admitted she just puts the food out and doesn't see who comes to eat. I still have one cat from that colony here, wanting a home---Cattyhop.
There are still two to catch at the Frye of Siam colony. They even bought a trap so they could catch the two themselves, but haven't done so. I ran into them a couple weeks ago at Costco. The woman of the couple was decidedly hostile in response to my question on whether they were going to get that done, since one of two is a female. She looked directly at her husband, and said "It takes two, and I'm getting no help."
It's true. He doesn't lift a finger to do anything. But his mouth runs nonstop. I could see the longstanding ire fermenting behind the tired in her eyes, like she wanted to pop him one. Somebody needs to.
I have been mesmerized by the terror instigated upon Virginia Tech, by apparently one angry man. Unbelievable. Guns and anger don't mix well. We have such a violent world. And yet we want a violent world. If we didn't want it, we would change.
We love violence. Go to the video store. Look at the movies on the shelves. Horror. Gore. Brutal bloody killings. Murders. We love violence. Your kid probably plays violent video games. We're violence junkies. We love it. Virginia Tech should shock no one. We have learned we should solve all problems violently.
Everytime you or I watch a violent movie or TV show, we're saying "I LOVE VIOLENCE! When we play brutal and violent video games we're saying "Gosh, violence is wonderful." We solve international problems violently or with threats of violence. We love cage fights. We like blood and guts, let's face it.
What do you feel, when you see the scenes on TV unfolding at Virginia Tech? I feel horror, shock and sadness. Well, wait. I'm not that shocked. Every day in Baghdad, thirty or forty people are blown to bits or executed by death squads. No, I'm not shocked at all. Some humans like to hurt one another.
And yet, later this evening, I watched the show 24, which is brutally violent. I had to have my fix. So, I must not be very affected by Virginia Tech--not moved enough to change. That's scarey in itself. I have no will to change my habits to help stop our addiction to destructive violence here in this country.
One thing, in Oregon, at the Thurston High shooting, we had some brave young students who didn't run from the shooting and didn't wait to be shot. They charged the gunman. Do you remember their names? They saved a lot of lives that day in Oregon.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Passing the Buck---Chemnutra, (poison wheat gluten supplier), Posts Letter on Website and the Letter I wrote them in Response
Letter from the Chairman of ChemNutra
Dear Pet Owners, Pet Food Businesses & all who love animals:
We at ChemNutra want to express our support and condolences for pet owners whose cats have fallen ill or died as the probable result of contaminated pet food produced by Menu Foods, as well as pet owners throughout North America who have become fearful about their pets’ food following news of the contamination. We also offer our empathy for the difficulties imposed on pet food businesses that were negatively impacted by this situation.The possibility that any animal fell ill or died because of an ingredient we may have supplied to Menu Foods saddens us and also angers us because it means that ChemNutra has victimized as well, by our own supplier. In fact, news reports and congressional testimony provide increasing evidence of this possibility.
We are appalled and distressed that Menu Foods took so long to recall its products, although it clearly suspected there was a problem for weeks prior to the first recall. And it wasn’t until eight days before they issued their first recall that Menu Foods told us that wheat gluten was one of many ingredients it was investigating.Moreover, here at ChemNutra, we are concerned that we may have been the victim of deliberate and mercenary contamination for the purpose of making the wheat gluten we purchased appear to have a higher protein content than it did, because melamine causes a false high result on protein tests. We had no idea that melamine was an issue until being notified by the FDA on March 29. In fact, we had never heard of melamine before. It’s simply not a chemical even on the radar screen for food ingredient suppliers. You can find more information on the timeline of events that occurred since late February here.
We assure you that we will never again do business with the supplier of the suspect wheat gluten, XuZhou Anying Biologic Technology Development Co. Ltd. XuZhou Anying had been recommended to us by a long-time reliable source in China, and presented what appeared to be legitimate proof that its product was safe. We hope that U.S. and Chinese government investigations of XuZhou Anying reveal what actually occurred.ChemNutra has an excellent record of compliance with all applicable regulations, but please know that as additional product safety recommendations are developed by the FDA, the Pet Food Institute and our customers, we will implement them immediately.Steve MillerCEOChemNutra
You can contact chemnutra, as I have done, to tell them what you think of their classic "we take no responsibility" letter to what they consider a stupid American public. Here's their e-mail address: firstname.lastname@example.org
My response to their letter was:
"I read the letter the CEO of chemnutra posted on your website. How nice. I read it.
I must say this: I think you're full of crapola. I think you're lying to cover your sorry butts. I think you care about making lots of money and don't care about all the animals and their owners you have harmed at all. This is evident by your unwillingness to take responsibility. So, now I must go vomit, just thinking about your puffy lying faces and how you have sacrificed even honesty and decency to stuff your pockets with money. May your soul's ultimate fate be exactly what you deserve.
There are little tiny earnest honest people around this country, the people some rich companies don't mind stomping or hurting, out there trying to rescue and help animals, spending their tiny incomes to do so. Your unwillingness to take responsibility or make wrongs right is really very pathetic in light of the tiny honest rescuers I know out there, including myself. Your characters pale in comparison. I'm gonna make my own cat food now."
Well, I'll probably get put on some chemnutra hit list now. Oh well.
There are some wild theories out there on the web. In one scenario, someone suggested that the wheat gluten was deliberately poisoned. China is having a massive problem with dog overpopulation and rabies, because there are so many dog breeders, breeding dogs for delicacies and for pelts. With the Olympics coming, China has been attempting to kill all dogs and cats, sometimes by clubbing them to death in front of their owners or clubbing large groups of dogs in public. So the theory goes....someone decided it'd be easier to kill off dogs and cats, pre Olympics, by poisoning pet food.....and this poisoned ingredient was scarfed up by a money grubbing American company--Nutrachem....and came here.....That's one theory being promoted out there in webland.
Going to the Olympics? Be sure to update your rabies vaccinations.
In other China news, I saw a report that China's main river, the Yangtze, is considered polluted beyond its ability to ever recover. Lovely.
Going to the Olympics? Take your own bottled water.
So it goes........
I felt I needed to call, just to see, although I don't like calling law enforcement about anything. I feel talked down to when I talk to cops, like they think I'm the criminal or why am I wasting their time. That's how contact with law enforcement about anything makes me feel.
So anyhow, I felt I needed to call, on behalf of these cats, if it happened, and if it was a true story told me, then foster children should not be put into a situation with such violent people.
I don't necessarily believe the former camp boondoggie either, about the woman she talks to at school, the alleged wife. And perhaps the wife is not believable either.
We got talking about the barn cat woman, because they want to find a barn cat home for Itabi's two daughters, Poppy's sisters, who are still with them. They're feral. This woman claimed she had asked the Lacomb woman with the 40 cats to take them and that's when she told her what her husband did to the cats. So it was roundabout that she mentioned the shooting.
Somebody's lying. If it is the boondoggie, the Albany woman who told me this tale, alleging she talks to the wife who told her these things, at school, I will find out and give her what for. I don't know what happened up in Lacomb or if anything did. I intend to get to the bottom of it.
People can be such scumbags. If that boondoggie lied to me, an animal lover, telling me such a horrific tale, that would be a very horrible thing to do. So, I left her a message, on her cell phone, to come up with details or I would consider what she told a big fat lie that she manufactured.
The other danger sign in this is, when I was at their place last night, because they left a message that the male cat who had the dental was very ill again, which he wasn't, the man of the couple mentioned them moving in with me.
That's a danger sign.
These two rarely work, and are still involved with another couple from Boondoggle who they claim are into meth big time, although one of them now manages a local restuarant. This woman told me she provided the clean urine for the urine test so the woman could get the job and now doesn't feel right about doing that, and claims she is going to call the restuarant and confess.
Really? I don't know if I believe that either, because I believe urine tests are done with someone right there, pretty much watching. Or they're supposed to be done that way. I know people cheat drug tests all the time, however. It also becomes more and more difficult for a person to hide their meth use, if they're using, especially to an employer.
But if this couple is hanging with druggees, then maybe they're drugging too. His ex wife just got arrested in a big drug bust here in Albany.
This couple seems sincere, when they talk to me, and I know I seem sincere, when listening. But in my brain now resides a skeptical cloud, that darkens everything I hear and see.
I wish I'd not gotten re-involved helping these folks. The vet has ordered zithromax pills for the male, who had the dental, who has the bad mouth. After those arrive, and I deliver them to these people, I'll still have to maintain some degree of contact, because of the cats mouth problem and possible need for a monthly cortisone injection. I wish they'd get him in to SafeHaven, turn him over so he could be adopted by someone with the bucks to take care of him decently. Then I wouldn't have to have anything to do with it anymore.
I don't know what is true and what is crap of what people tell me. I want to believe in people, that people are honest, and as a result of this desire of mine, this need of mine, I get used, lied to, conned, scammed and otherwise jaded as to the natures of human beings.
I live pretty much isolated. The contact I have with humans is usually with people with big times issues----and then I get drawn into to real life soap operas. Maybe I should write a soap opera, just using material garnered from encounters right here in the mid valley. It'd be one helluva soap opera.
Maybe lonliness is not so bad considering the alternative.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
I got an e-mail today from Mark Krammar, out of Seattle. It was an e-mail sent to everyone on his wife's e-mail list. That included me. A couple of years ago, Sommar contacted me after seeing Rainbow on my petfinder site. She wanted to adopt a cat nobody else would want. I met her with Rainbow at the Jantzen Beach McDonalds'. Since then, we'd corresponded every now and then.
The e-mail said there was to be a benefit concert for Sommar. I was horrified to hear she had died and went to the website created by the family in memorium, to find what had happened. She died seven days after giving birth to her first child. I left an empassioned memorial to Sommar on the guestbook. I am also trying to find out if Lady (Rainbow) is still alive and if they need help with her.
I wish I could go to the concert. Maybe I'll find a way. Sommar was a beautiful soul and the world needs beautiful souls. Click the post title to go to Sommar's memorial website.
It's not fair she was taken. It's not fair.
The two caregivers involved took their cats to the clinic themselves and picked them up afterwards, saving me gas. The woman with one unfixed female paid $10 of the $40 fix and the woman who took in three pregnant semi-ferals, contributed $90 towards the cost of the three pregnant spays.
The latter woman has two more females to catch, both likely pregnant, and a few males.
Also, a woman contacted me after the craigslist posting who lives along the Alsea Highway. She has close to a dozen cats needing fixed. The first seven will be done Tuesday. She also will be transporting the cats to and from the clinic.
I wish I could get more reservations somewhere. The two semi-feral females in the Lebanon colony are also likely pregnant, like the three done from there on Thursday. There is a pregnant female out living in a barn on Oakville Rd. North.
So far, as a result of the craigslist post, about 16 cats have been fixed, with more waiting in the wings.
Of the cats I have here, Ebineezer Geezer is the most readily adoptable. He's just a wonderful cat, loving and playful, too. But some of the Lebanon ragamuffins are getting tamer. Solomon in particular enjoys shadowing me. Poppy is getting very social, too.
So, my focus now is finding those three homes. Ebineezer Geezer still has a deep friendship with his former colony mate Willow, with whom he sleeps every night. She is semi-feral and has only one good eye, which is why I didn't take her back. So, I am really hoping to find people willing to take in the very tame charming Ebineezer, who wouldn't mind Willow tagging along.
I am headed off to the Farmer's Market.
Forgive me if I say this. Maybe it too is racist. But....I can't visualize Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton as moral compasses. Haven't they both had some racy extra-marital affairs? I'm sure I've heard about their exploits off camera.
But any little very public flap that involves rights of any kind possibly being violated and cameras, and they're on it---the competing moral compasses. And Bill Clinton had to weigh in. This also made me laugh. Bill Clinton weighing in on how to treat women respectfully? Um, yeah right.
So, all is forgiven by the class act women's team. Imus is out a job, but also acted classy in his meeting, or at least what has been said so far of it sounded like he did so. Snoop Dog still is trashing black women, as are a lot of black and white crap rappers. May the trash mouthed gangster rappers die a thousand deaths, although I think most of them do, without me wishing it upon them. Kids, you become what you fill your brain with. Gangster rappers aren't cool at all. Sorry, but they're not. They're about as uncool and cowardly as they come.
It takes a brave heart to be respectful and honest and nonviolent, in this trashy world. The fact the rappers just sink to the easiest level of existence, in their lyrics, ego and lifestyles, like sugar coated jelly filled donuts, like vermin eating shit--no thinking, no brains, no brave heart required---well, that's the tale of the character behind the gold chains and dirty talking rap crap--there is none.
Wow. How cool. To aspire to be a gansta rapper groupie!
I was never cool. I didn't even try to be in high school. We weren't even allowed to listen to music at the religious boarding high school I went to. It was a rather dismal four years, seclustered away.
Five days a week, I went to school, studied and worked. On Saturday, we had to go to various church services all day. On Sunday's, we had to work and study. There were no sports. There was no TV allowed. There was no music allowed. There was no entertainment, --just study, work and church.
Bleak? Hell yes it was bleak and dreary and depressing and isolating and emotionally disturbing. As an Adventist child, any parenting I got was over by age 13, when I was sent away to school.
My parents loved this, because they weren't suited for parenthood, except for the perks my father found, fondling his daughter. He liked the perks, but as for the rest of parenting stuff, that was left up to us to figure out how to grow up. He liked to yell at us, when he'd come home from work at night. He liked to put me down. He loved making mother cry. Those were the perks and as for the rest of it, we had to figure it out on our own.
I've tried to find love ever since. I guess I never will now. I'm just a little kid still, wanting parents who couldn't love proper, to love me. I wonder what my mother was like before she hooked with him. I bet she was a decent person, a loving person, a fun person. But she was a woman, a woman in a time when women cowed to men, let them tear them up and break them down, and they felt it was their duty to take it. Women who wouldn't leave abusive men back then ruined a lot of today's grown ups.
But those Rutgers women. I bet they won't raise any low self-esteem girls. I bet they won't. I'll be cheering them on. Breaking that damn cycle. Getting abusive crap talking men's asses fired. Good on them.
Think I'll go stomp on a Snoop Dog CD. Be fun.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
I don't feel for them. I don't feel for the wrong they were delivered because so many people are wrongfully accused. These boys' got the wrong undone, something most people wrongfully accused or otherwise lacking in basic justice for wrongs done to them, never get.
They will go further. Their attorneys will get the DA charged, most likely. Nice for them. But this doesn't happen to the average joe poor person, who is wrongfully accused and often wrongfully imprisoned.
So I just don't feel for them. I resent them, in fact. I resent them because their privilege allowed them to get justices I never got, because I was a poor person labeled a mental, grossly abused, who never got justice for the wrongs done me.
Those rich boys are getting justice most people don't get because they're rich and their families hired big time lawyers. They should be grateful and humble.