Thursday, May 31, 2007

Goodbye Furby

Furby is Dead

Photo is of Furby--when she was new at my place, one of the Lebanon ragamuffin gang.

Photo is of Fluffers this a.m., just before his neuter job.

Little Furby, one of the four Lebanon ragamuffins, is dead. I came home from delivering cats for fixing to Countryside, to find her laid out on the floor, twitching, one eye dilated, the other a pinprick. She's had on an off symptoms like this since I trapped her.

I had her tested twice, I feared she had leukemia so greatly. A month ago or less, I took her in again, because she'd just go limp and lay on the floor, or her head would vibrate or she'd walk clumping her feet clumsily. The doctor could find nothing wrong and felt she might have congenital retardation.

But today, her seizure was life ending. She never came out of it. I didn't let her. I rushed her trembling stiff body back up to Countryside. She was tested yet again, because I had to know. had to be sure, for the sake of the other cats, if leukemia was in her spinal cord, causing tumors that were killing her. Again, she tested negative.

The vet doesn't know what is wrong. Could be a nervous system birth defect. Could have been trauma. She could have been pellet shot, like some of the others there had been, with the pellet lodged in her brain or against her spine. She could have a space occupying lesion--a tumor, benign or malignant. He also said she could have viral or bacterial meningitis. I said, "If she does, would that be a danger to the other cats or to myself?" He does not believe she has either, and said if she did it should not be a contagion problem since this has been a long standing problem with her alone.

Little Furby is dead--the little nowhere kitten.

SafeHaven had asked me to trap four kittens fed by a relative of a SafeHaven staff member, living at a Lebanon apartment complex, for fixing. Instead of four, I trapped 11 and they were not being adequately fed at all. So I elected to keep the four kittens and try to find them an option, thinking SafeHaven would help, which they didn't. There was not enough food for 11, but there might be for seven.

The vet care for these ragamuffins has cost me. Even Furby's end will cost me close to $100. I don't regret helping them. Not at all.

It hurts to lose that little girl. I loved her.

But, she didn't die a horrible twitching end, underneath that god awful drug infested complex, unnoticed and uncared about. She wasn't dragged off and torn apart by some free roaming equally neglected pitbull or other dog up there. She wasn't beaten to death, as she lay in convulsions, by a bunch of hooting brainless zombie teens video-taping their abuse for others of similar zero character levels to watch.

I snatched her from that dark end. She died after months here smothered in love, instead. A victory for the light.

I wasn't going to keep her. I had the other three kittens in the bathroom already, to not return to that complex, and was going to return all the rest. Then, from one trap, came pitiful loud cries. I took the cage cover off the trap containing a very matted frightened young female who, like the others, had just been fixed.

She rushed to the front of the trap, looked into my eyes and cried again. "Hmmm," I said. "You know I have too many here already. But, what's one more?" Her behavior, coming to me and crying, was very abnormal. These were feral cats. Did Karma nudge her to it, or the mighty good, so that her future fate would be sealed in love?

The world has a mean look to it, but its heart is soft and it looks to find willing and open human hearts to act as tools, as its hands, so god, the great good, whatever you may call it, can indulge its kindness upon ragamuffins like Furby.

God or whatever the great good is named, that kind-hearted spirit, loved Furby. It's evident to me in the nature of the intervention that saved her a horrible fate. Why her? Oh I think the great good wishes to save them all, us all, but just can't find enough willing human hearts and hands.

I took her into my bathroom, too, then, and she was with me from then until her death today.

Furby loved to be cuddled. She's rub her cheek against my cheek and purr. She liked to lay across one arm as I went about daily chores. Of all the cats here, she loved her brother Solomon the most. Solomon will miss her.

Furby is dead. Bless you, my little ragamuffin.

Six cats were fixed yesterday courtesy of Poppa Inc. Three were Siamese, three of four Siamese dumped at Freeway Lakes. One cat was an owned torti, from Powell St. in Albany. I also trapped a long hair black and white stray male they fed and he also was fixed yesterday. And the sixth cat was a female from just off Waverly St. She's had kittens recently, but they had all died after being bathed in flea shampoo. She is Siamese and now she's spayed, too.

Yesterday was a 17 hour day for me, working cat issues. I'm very tired. I have poison oak all over my face and my car still stinks like skunk. The heat brought the smell back out in force.

Today, one male and one female are being fixed.

The female is yet another Siamese. Some folks saw a homeless woman with this cat and her kittens. She told them she only fed the mom water. These people got her to let them take the mother and her kittens. She's being fixed today. The kittens aren't quite old enough.

The big black and white male being fixed today, Fluffers, is the final cat from the 14th street colony. The old woman who feeds these five strays thought Fluffers was a girl. But Fluffers is fortunately a boy, or Fluffers would by now have kittens.

In that little group of cats, there were three boys, and two girls. The three boys were Fluffers, Beamer, a big orange tabby tux male, and a little manx long hair tame black and white male. The two girls look alike---both black and white tuxes. One was in heat and one was pregnant at spay.

Now, this little family of cats, fed by the kind old woman at the end of the block, they're all fixed.

There's been a small victory in the war on overpopulation on 14th street.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Freeway Lakes Siamese

KAT left me a message, that someone told them somebody dumped a mother and kittens at Freeway Lakes. She was asking if I wanted to meet them over there. I went, but arrived before they did. I talked to a few fishermen and immediately found the cats. They've been there at least two months now, the one man, who brings them tuna everyday, said. He'd just fed them two cans of tuna.

I went back into the woods and sure enough, there were four Siamese, one, probably the mom, slightly bigger than the others. I set a trap and caught the little boy. I set another trap and caught the lilac point snowshoe. Then the other two got paranoid. V and D arrived.

We chatted. We got into shelter put down mode. The fact SafeHaven gets so much community support and donations, yet adopts out unfixed kittens and lets pregnant cats continue to carry and birth kittens drives us all nuts when they don't participate in much spay/neuter advocacy at all, and when doing the latter two things, are part of the overpopulation problem.

The old fisherman, whom we'd just met, chimed in on our side about shelters. He asked if anyone even paid our gas, when we did stuff like this, and we said "nope".
Another fisherman came and thanked us for helping these cats, who have been here awhile, coming out to beg for food from those fishing.

I caught the next one, who'd been too cross-eyed to accurately see the trap entrance. I caught her by uncovering the trap and putting a food dish right in front of it, to lead her in. At that point, the largest of the Siamese, had disappeared into the tall grass, likely for a mid day nap. We all gave up and I brought the three in traps here, to be fixed tomorrow, then KAT will try to adopt them out. She's a seal point Snowshoe.

V got four calls of people wanting cat help just while we were there.

I had more on my message machine when I got home. One was from an Albany woman, who had adopted a kitten from a woman whose cats now, thankfully, are all fixed. She adopted the female a year ago. Now she has a litter that are six weeks old and she is feeding three strays. So the female is going in tomorrow.

A store clerk also had a female who had a litter. All the kittens died after she bathed them in some Sargents flea shampoo. So that female adult is going in tomorrow.

Another woman called off Oak street. She is feeding a Siamese, two males and a female. The Siamese had had kittens, who all died, and now is pregnant again. The other female has kittens somewhere. But, the woman refuses to let me fix the Siamese, wanting her to have kittens. I told her about the excess of cats and even the excess of Siamese out there, describing the freeway lakes Siamese. Still she wants the cat, now barely pregnant, to have kittens.

I told her Poppa's policy is firm on people who want some cats fixed while willfully allowing others to bring more cats into this cat overpopulated world---no help. She understood, but still wanted me to fix everybody but the Siamese. I held firm and said "No, Poppa is about controlling the population, not about helping backyard breeders get the cats they don't want to breed fixed." She says she'll think about getting the Siamese fixed. I hope she calls tomorrow, having decided to do the right thing.

She also says she has no money to donate since she's feeding five cats. I said, "and you are seriously considering allowing five more cats to enter the world when you can't feed the five you currently feed?" She said I had a point. I told her kittens are wonderful and cute, but why bring more into this world, that she's feeding five cats now and one of them probably has four or five kittens right now, which makes ten cats, and she wants this Siamese to have four or five additional cats? But I know she'll likely let the Siamese have more too and want somebody else to pay the cost of fixing everybody and find the kittens homes unfixed and then they'll go on to be part of the problem.

I haven't finished with the cats down on McLaughlin either. I got the woman's two males fixed, but she also feeds five outside cats, strays, one at least with kittens. When I returned the males, who got dumped off along with a female last fall, she took me out back to see the ferals, who aren't very feral. I petted the one, the one with kittens somewhere. I told her I thought the kittens were under the trailer, since she kept going back under there. She said she'd have her kids crawl under to find them.

Boondoggies Evicted

The boondoggies now living over on 34th street, the ones I went to help recently, when one of the cats they feed got stuck in a tree, have been evicted. They're not that torn up over it. It's a slum really, with lots of drug activity, crime, vandalism and drama going on constantly.

They had told me they are now feeding two more strays, plus a white Siamese mix thrown out by other tenants in the complex after one roommate, last Friday night, decided to try to cook him alive in the oven. Fortunately another roommate called the cops before the oven was turned on. The boondoggies claim the cops wouldn't take the cat to someplace safe because there are no shelters in Linn County to take the cat to. So he's out on his own, too.

And those tenants have been evicted, also.

The other boondoggies, also renting in that complex, refuse to fix their cats. The kitten they took in at Camp Boondoggle, from Rita, had kittens and everybody died, even the beautiful little mother. They were flea infested and never vaccinated. Now the male, they also refuse to fix, has a broken leg or foot and they won't take him to a vet either. It's just a hellhole for animals there.

So the boondoggies who have to be out by June 6 have Trooper, the cat with the mouth issue. They claim a neighbor will take care of him. I have urged them to get him into SafeHaven. Fat chance they'd even take him.

They also feed four strays. I had gotten two fixed. Both girls. Two more showed up. One of those at least is a girl. Now, they'll be nobody to feed them at all. And I don't even feel like trapping the unfixed ones for fixing, since they'll have no one to feed them and nowhere to call home.

Albany is just a little shit hole for animals. Seems to be so little morality here.

I asked M and V where they will go. V said they'll stay either at the shelter or camp out again somewhere. They'd made gains and those will be lost. They couldn't make enough working part time and seasonal jobs to keep the rent up on time.

They say they are relieved in a way. The landlord bugged them constantly, they said. At least they won't have to put up with a landlord yelling at them all the time, they said.

The Scoop So Far on Countryside

I called and talked to the receptionist at Countryside this morning. She said the clinic is already sold. She said I've met the vets, or one of them, who bought it, when he worked there as an OSU vet student intern. I can't remember him, however. I'm always so tired out when I arrive with cats or pick them up.

So Dr. Al has an option to use the clinic for up to a year. He has a lease now to use it through June I think she said or the end of June. She said she had no idea what would happen after the new vets take over, price wise that is. But for now, she said, it's all good, up through the end of June, to take in cats under Poppa funds and getting cats seen at Dr. Al's prices by Dr. Al. So I made an appointment for my own cat, Hopi, to have a dental while Dr. Al and his prices are still there.

Dentals are important to get for aging cats. Hopi is nine now and has some tartar. Bangor, Miss Daisy, Old Sal, Scully, Moby, Dex and even my river feral, Vision, have had dentals already. Hopi and Electra are the only ones who haven't. I'll try to get both in while Dr. Al is still there. The difference in prices, for a dental, between almost any other clinic and Dr. Al, is literally hundreds of dollars.

If the new vet raises prices to match the norm in this valley, I won't even be able to afford vet care for my own cats. Vet clinics have out priced low income people and even most middle incomers now. This is why there is an overpopulation problem also.

They have huge vet school loans to pay off and they get expensive equipment and want fancy clinics, is my opinion of the cause. Maybe that is customer driven. Maybe there are a lot of pet owners with money. I don't know any pet owners with money, however, because I walk in different circles.

Dr. Al's place is simple and lacks fancy equipment, but he gives really good care anyhow. And the customer service there is friendly. First name basis, with everybody.

Countryside is a jewel. People can still afford to get their pets care there. And they can be assured, when they walk in those doors, to be greeted by first name, if they're a long term customer.

Dr. Anderson and his staff have been very good to me. I have gotten hundreds upon hundreds of cats fixed there. I've lost only one. Dr. Anderson felt bad when the pregnant feral died at the clinic shortly after spay, so he did a post mortem. She had a congenital heart defect.

No fancy equipment. Inexpensive prices. And I've never had one post surgical problem in hundreds of surgeries.

I think Dr. Al deserves a huge honking goodbye party. Oh yeah.

Almost forgot, I'm breaking out in poison oak. All over my face and other body parts. I remember tromping through it about ten days ago, when looking for some cat and saying to myself, "well, in about ten days, I'll be rashed out all over." It's been ten days.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Cat Trapping/Fixing Days Close to End?

There is only one vet in the valley now, who is low cost and that will take Poppa funds to pay for fixes---Countryside.

The south Salem old woman, on whose deck I trapped two skunks, told me that Dr. Anderson was moving to Tennessee. That was the first I'd heard of the potential of losing him as a vet. But then I talked to the morning receptionist, who told me not to worry, that it wouldn't be for probably a year. So I let it go.

Tonight, picking up cats, the evening receptionist whispered to me, obviously devastated "They've fired me. The new people don't want me." My heart went into my throat. I felt for her. What would she do now? And I felt for me. She said her last day is the last day of June. Does that mean the clinic will be under new ownership July 1?

If so, will the new owners keep spay/neuter cost low, like Dr. Al? Will they take Poppa funds?

If they don't, I will have no spay/neuter options anywhere south of Portland. That would effectively end my ability to get cats fixed or to trap and fix cats. What would I do with my time? How would I fill the endless days meaningfully?

It is my great love, my only skill, trapping cats, helping cats. It is very very frightning to think I may no longer be able to do that. I cannot even fathom the possiblity.

Would I volunteer then, instead, at SafeHaven or Heartland? No. I can clean litterboxes here. The true solution to helping animals lies not in sheltering, but in high volume spay/neuter of both house cats and ferals. That takes going door to door, apartment complex to apartment complex, trailer park to trailer park and farm to farm, trap in hand, like I do now. Like I love doing now.

I feel for that woman, losing her job. I'm not good at judging age. I'd guess she's a little older than me. It's not like Jefferson is blooming with jobs. Dr. Al wasn't a perfection addict. He was nice to his employees and didn't require perfection of them. Idiosyncracies added to the charm of that clinic.

What will happen to her?

N got the boot, oh wait, excuse me, forced early retirement is the HP way of describing forcing out middle aged people in droves, like N. She's my age. She's worked there forever--a loyal faithful employee. Where will she, at her age, ever find a decent job again?

And she's a saint, someone who would give you the shirt off her back, someone who never says anything bad about anybody, someone who generously donated her HP earned bucks to help animals and all sorts of other charities. She ain't good enough for HP now? Fuck man. Then nobody is. Fuck HP. I'm throwing out every HP product I see anywhere. I'm going to throw a tizzy fit every time I see their hp logo too, in any store. If someone asks "What is wrong with you?" I will tell them what's wrong. I will tell them exactly what's wrong. HP you are dirt now, because you got "rid" of a saint. I'm going to flip off your campus EVERY time I drive by it.

Who needs computers anyway? I don't need a computer. I mean they're nice and all, so you can check e-mail, but who the hell really needs one? Well I'll tell you who---the people who make them, program them, design them, market them, etc., that's who. They need them so they can have jobs, so they can eat, sleep with a roof over their heads, smile when they sit out in their yards on their days off, with a barbecue going, and sigh "Life is ok." That's who needs computers. But the rest of us, we don't really need computers.

Here's the problem: we don't need most of the shit produced out there. But, we all need jobs so we can live and there's too many people, so we have to produce useless make up crap that nobody really needs, so there are jobs. See, we just keep breeding more people, is the root problem. Too many people. And some of these religions are breeder religions---Catholics, Mormons, Muslims---they encourage breeding and tie it into morality somehow. Isn't that a crack up?

The real reason for breeder religions is they've figured out the best way to keep their church role numbers inflated is to breed more members. Cuts down on recruitment costs. So they ban birth control and abortion, even though, you know, the fact there are too many people on earth promotes nasty things like war, starvation, disease spread and death, kind of anti life stuff. But the breeder church leaders have been able to manipulate all that all around, and tie it in with morality and loving Jesus.

What a crack up! It's really funny. I am giggling and it's not from the beer i'm drinking, sort of out of worry, over my future as a cat trapper. I am not a breeder, nor do I advocate joining any breeder religion, because I think their breed til you drop crap is really silly and hypocritical twisted hype. And thank God a lot of breeder religion members just ignore that. That is really thoughtful of them, for the rest of us and for the planet and for the lack of good paying jobs out there, due to all the fake puffiness of economics and consuming.

Well, and then there's the fact we just can't all herd goats. You know? But maybe we could if there were a lot fewer of us. And more goats.

Well anyhow. I don't even know how I got onto that topic at all. I am seriously drifting around.

M is getting the boot too. Her contract is up and won't be renewed due to budget cuts. Dear M, a gentle soul, kind to everyone, including stray cats. She hopes to find work under the school district, for the summer at least. I feel for all these folks losing their jobs.

In some cases, it's like being told you're trash, not good enough, like a divorce, like rejection. And in some cases, I know these people have the best hearts, are competent, and it's just really hard to lose one's livelihood, one's ability to support oneself, one's self-respect, one's occupation, one's identity.

If I lose my mine, I'll be one in a huge crowd, a mob of people, millions worldwide. So I can't act like it's the end of the world, since so many have nothing. It won't be the end of the world, just the end of my world. But maybe it's supposed to be. Maybe I'll find some other vet, some other way. I don't know. I'm going to bed.

Sunday, May 27, 2007


It's Memorial Day tomorrow. Makes me think about America and the glorious unknown glitches of fate that granted me birth in this country, rather than anywhere else.

People have fought, bled and died so this country could exist and keep existing.

Thank you.

Would I?

Would I give my life, everything I have, for this country?

Yes I would. I love America.

After 9/11, I wanted very much to fight Taliban. I hate Taliban and al Quida jerk off women controlling Muslim freakazoids just as much as anybody.

I tried to sign on with the army recruiter. He was really nice. He said they had an age requirement and new recruits could not exceed 30 or 31 I think it was. He continued, "and I can see that you only exceed that by about a year, but we are not allowed to make exceptions."

"About a year...." Hahahaha. He was being very diplomatic. Closer to two decades.

I objected...."but...I am an army of one! (which I am)." He said he bet I was, but, he was sorry, no exceptions. Then he grinned.

I love America. No, I don't have peeling faded flag stickers stuck all over my bumpers. I don't have a red, white and blue imitation flag sweatshirt either.

I saw a woman wearing one of those sweatshirts today, however, on the streets of Albany. I wasn't jealous.

I have cat traps hung from the walls of my garage and homemade fish nets swinging from bent nails. I have spay/neuter car magnets and a house full of rescued cats.

I could not have risen from a street urchin, living homeless, to a skilled trapper and rescuer in any other country of the world.

In other countries of the world, like China, they raise dogs to eat. They zip tie their front legs backwards against their bellies before slaughter as the frightened canine awaits a cruel painful end. In many countries, dogs and cats are dipped alive into tanks of hot water, to loosen their skin which is what their captors want.

I live in America, where a girl like me, a nobody, can get away with helping stray cats. In most countries of this world, I could not do this.

In most Muslim countries, I would be confined inside, unless accompanied by a male relative fully veiled. I could not listen to music. I could not get an education. I could not read. And if raped, I would be stoned to death.

Man, do I love America.

People try to sneak into America because America is the best, with the best people in the world. Yeah, so I'm feeling my roots tonight, and proud of them.

Thank you to those who have charged up hills in foreign nations, upon command, straight into the guns of the enemy.

I know this country has problems. I know we're not perfect.

Nobody is. No nation is.

I love my country.

In other news, my brother and his wife came up to see me today. He was going to do work around the place. But they over slept, at her mother's place in Roseburg, so they got here a little bit late.

My brother had brough a big honking tow chain. He was aching to yank a stub tree out with that chain wound around the tree and his hitch. But his wife had a better idea. Cut off the three inch limbs of the stub tree, that someone cat back to about six feet at some point, with about three remaining bare short stub limbs, protruding upward a few feet each, and leave it, for the cats, when the cat yard is created. I could tell this solution disappointed him.

I said "You know, let's just forget work and go do something." They were all for this. He has a brand new hobby--geocaching. So he looked up a few local caches. I could tell by the clues alone where those locations were.

We headed out.

The first location was off Independence Highway in some rocks along the road, used as slide control. Boy, people had torn those rocks up. Geocaching can be really hard on the environment. We turned over every rock and concluded the geocache had not been replaced. So we stashed a note.

Then we went to the next location, the RC plane park by Adair. The clue simply stated "It's in the knot." There were two oak trees there, with knarls and knots. Real tough one. And I found a pathetic toy car on its side where it had fallen out of the "knot".

The tree was rotted badly. And in searching for the geocache I'd stuck a piece of wood under some rotted bark at the edge of a knot hole. It fell off, revealing a large rotted spider infested hole. I cackled evilly.

"Let's really put the toy car in a knot," I said. So we did, nestled in among the spider nests.

I told my brother if he's going to geocache he might should make it his hobby to improve the caches somewhat. Make them funnier and more interesting than an old dirty toy car. I had already lost interest in the sport. Course I don't have a GPS.

I then drug both my brother and sister-in-law up Bald Hill. They loved it. Finally, they could understand why Corvallis is a wonderful place to live. I had told them I wasn't in much good of shape. My brother said "You were loping up that hill." I said, "Yeah, I surprised myself. And I could have gone much faster."

When we got back here, my brother fired up his chain saw. He loves that chain saw. Men love chainsaws. Many do, at least. It was noisy, which he also doesn't mind. The louder the better, I think some guys think.

He's also losing some of his hearing. He's 50. Mine is better than his. I said he listened to too much loud rock and roll when he was young. He said he didn't listen to enough, and I had to agree.

My father hated music and would not allow it in our home.

Well, later on, he would allow certain Tijuana Brass albums, but not played long or very loud. Joy was his enemy. So were fun and smiling and laughter.

So when my older brother got his first car, we listened to rock on the radio in his car. Stones. Led Zepplin. The Doors. Etc.

I never got a car until way later in life. My brothers had good summer jobs. I worked for dear old dad for no pay. I got a motorcycle finally, a 250 X6. I rode it all the way back from college once, from the Napa Valley. It would begin to vibrate when I hit 60. It was an experience.

My brother, for a joke, hooked up an air horn to it once, because I kept getting cut off by cars. I'd had some serious close calls and messed up my knee when I had to lay it over once. An old couple turned out in front of me, not even looking my way. And they didn't appear to see me sliding on my side, laying the bike over to avoid a direct hit either. I still have scars on both knees. My kneecap was broken.

So one time, heading down the hill from college, the air horn stuck on. Man. It drained the battery within a mile and that mile was the loudest mile of my life. I had to hide the bike in the ditch and hike all the way back up that hill a good three miles to find someone with a pickup who could haul it back.

When it would snow, I still rode the bike to class, even up and down the long sets of concrete stairways. That turned heads and sometimes brought campus security. Back then, not that many women rode bikes. I rode it out of economics. Gas and insurance were cheap. The bike had been under $200 to purchase.

So my brother cut off the stub tree stub branches. And he cut down most of the rotted dying lilac at the back. We left one branch of the tree and the runners. It will come back, perhaps healthy.

We loaded the branches into the back of his truck and they left. It was good to see them.

M had said she'd round up cats today for tomorrow's appointments. When I checked my messages, she'd left one. But it said the neighbor man, whose five males she thought were not fixed, had actually gotten them fixed, so she had no cats and was going to church.

So I began the roundup at 7:30. By 7:45, by calling people I'd gotten cats fixed for, I had four cats lined up. I also set a trap back at the 14th street location. She thought she was feeding only four cats. I'd trapped four. The last cat trapped she thought was her black and white long hair "Fluffers".

When I returned the black and white manx long hair male, she said, "But you already returned Fluffers. She's eating out back." So, there were more than four. Fluffers is still to be caught. Trap is set. My guess is that the cute little tame male, probably a Fluffers offspring, will be back in that trap tomorrow. We had a good time when he was here, before and after surgery. I wormed him, too, which should help him gain some weight.

I didn't get anymore calls on the cat ad. I still have the two adults--Millyvanilly and Moonshine. I moved Moonshine from the garage to a rabbit hutch in the bedroom because she needs to learn some manners about behavior towards other cats. She still thinks she needs to protect kittens. She was so terrorized by the neighbor mans' cats, who would chase her, when she came over the fence to try to eat, she feels all cats are like that.

Moby, my ghandi guy, is working on her. He'll win her over. He wins every frightened cat over.

So tomorrow, a Hull Oaks mill cat, taken home by an Adair couple, will be spayed. A downtown Albany female, owned by an out of work guy, will be fixed, and two males from near Linn Benton, fed by a woman who also feeds strays, wild cats of the forest, she calls them, will be fixed. Later this week, I'll be catching her ferals for fixing.

I have been invited to go to a movie tomorrow with a pair of sisters I don't know yet. And I"m going.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Trip to Corvallis

After waiting around all day, hoping for calls on the cat ad I have in the paper, my one free ad I get per month, I finally went on over to Corvallis, late this evening, to do my weekly grocery shopping.

It's cheaper to buy food at Winco than anywhere in Albany. Cat food is also cheaper at Winco. Everything's cheaper there. So I don't mess around shopping for human food or cat food in Albany. Waste of time. Every now and then I get a few things at the Grocery Outlet, but not many things, because their prices usually can't compete with Winco prices either on most items.

So, I really don't shop at all in Albany. This is only a problem in that I get even less human contact. But there are very few things I buy. I buy cat food, cat litter and human food and that is about it.

Since the flap with the open forum people I've been avoiding the Corvallis Saturday Market scene, too. Not sure why.

I also have a lot of disagreements with the anti war crowd in general. I support the killing of radical muslims because of how they treat women. I am going to read a book about this issue. I believe it is called Princess Sultana and another follow up book is Princess Sultana's Daughters. This is a biography of a Saudia woman, an upper class woman, who describes to a writer how women are treated even in the upper classes of Muslim societies. I guess the most common form of murdering daughters in the upper class, like if a daughter is seen for even a moment in public without her veil in place, is drowning them in swimming pools. Honor killings they call them, and they are common in Muslim society.

Islam is an evil religion for women. It is used as an excuse to control, abuse and kill women worldwide. Deaths of men practising such a religion are a victory for women everywhere.

So anyhow, I'm pro-war against Muslim men. Being an abused woman myself, I have empathy for women living lives in such a male dominated controlled abusive society.

You're not going to talk Muslims into treating women as equals, or into not killing or raping their daughters as punishment for their sons, when their sons fuck up. Women are treated like bugs over there, like vaginas alone. Vaginas to be fucked but the mouths and brains better keep silent because Muslim men only want vaginas, not mouths or brains. That's because they're dick shits. That's right. They've got dicks for brains. If they weren't dickbrains they would treat women as equals, not like vaginas.


I went to Winco in Corvallis and got cat food, cat litter and human food.
Then, I felt a big letdown, since this was my big trip for the week, my big chance at human contact and I hadn't seen anybody I knew.

I finally went to the Old World Deli for supper. I get their sandwiches about once per month. But I didn't remember they were so expensive and there wasn't a soul in the place. The Old World Deli was empty. The two employees were rattling around the hollow deli like restless ghosts wanting to go home.

I drove on home, with the pit of my stomach hollow, too, like I'd missed out on something, like it was full of disappointment and bloated with lonliness and the desire to find connections.

And here I sit, freshly home, alone again as always.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Personality Traits of Cat Haters

The farmer and I were talking on the phone this evening about the differences between cats and dogs, and between cat lovers and cat haters. She was saying how much harder abandonment is on dogs than on cats because cats seem more flexible and emotionally independent while dogs are like little kids and not very well equipped to take abuse and abandonment.

Then our topic switched to people and personality differences between absolute cat haters and those who like cats. I feel it's a big red flag sounding if someone outright dislikes cats. Cats can't be controlled. They think and act independently. People who want to control every aspect of their lives will not like cats.

And then, right after the farmer and I talk, I see some other blogger in Corvallis, has just written a post about how much she/he dislikes cats, but is in love with electronics and that sort of shit, I thought, "that is like weird coincidence."

I also thought 'that might be a controlling cold soul, a good person to stay clear of'. I don't know her/him. But her/his hatred of cats--that raises question marks big time.

There's something wrong there---maybe he or she has big fat old brain tumor or some really rare disease. Maybe zombies or vampires or space aliens have eaten out his or her soul. Or he or she was born without a soul, you know, cause something's really really wrong there, I'm telling you.

Well, we can only hope this person's cat hating affliction doesn't lead to him or her harming people. We can just only hope and pray that her or his co-worker, who keeps sending this person cute kitten pictures, one day sends this person just the right cute little kitten photo that breaks the dam and lets the love flow. This person then, when touched by a kitten, will break their beloved lifeless machines, and take to helping stray kittens. I am tearing up to think of it. Someone have a kleenex for me?

Anyhow..... there are people out there who prefer mechanical devices to living things. There are people who collect cars, computer gadgets and games, newspapers, DVD's, little figurines, sports cards, empty beer bottles, after drinking contents, etc.

There are people out there who love and defend fetuses but hate anything really alive.

Which reminds me. I have thought up a new bumper sticker. It says: "I am Really Really Pro-life. I adore fetuses, babies, old people, stray cats and even the Earth." Top that, fetus love only prolifers!

To each his own. It's still a free country.

Four Cats fixed Yesterday

Four cats, three of them females, were fixed yesterday, courtesy of Poppa Inc. Two were house cats from Albany. The woman claimed they were strays she'd taken in, but she'd slip up in the conversation and call them her cats. They weren't strays. She wanted me to think they were strays to justify her not co-paying a dime. But, I also knew she'd let them out and they'd get pregnant, if they didn't get fixed.

The other female was one of the farm cat litter, that was too young to do at last falls' FCCO clinic. She's done. Four more of same litter will be done on Friday.

This makes me happy, because I can take it easy. I don't have to go out and trap or search out cats for Friday's fixing. Sometimes I want to be lazy. I was going to go back up to the skunk house in Salem, but one of the two cats left to be caught and fixed has that brand new litter, one of whom I stole. So if I caught her, I'd have to crawl around under that trailer and find the rest of the kittens, then do something with them, or house her until they were weaned and I don't want to do either. Best to wait until they're a bit older. Three more weeks older. Then go at it again.

My car still stinks. The smell in the garage is affecting Moonshine, who lives in the garage. She is sure there is a skunk somewhere in the garage and has become quite defensive. This morning, when the garage door was open, she spotted one of the old man's cats coming into my yard, one who used to give her a hard time when she would try to come to my garage door to beg for food. This time, she tore out of my garage chasing him out of my yard, then came tearing back in through the garage door, fearful it might have been closed on her in the few seconds she'd been gone, to chase a cat that once terrorized her.

Moonshine is a great garage guard cat right now, largely due to the fact she is so certain there is a skunk hiding somewhere in the garage and that she has to be on the alert. She would make somebody a great cat!

The fourth cat fixed was the final cat in the 14th street colony--a black and white male. All four in that group, fed by an old woman, are now all fixed. Two were females, one of them pregnant, and two, including this last one, were males.

So today, rather than chase around looking for unfixed cats or trapping cats, I'll focus on handling the mill kittens more, try to get them more socialized, and make fliers for Moonshine and the mill kittens, Pebbles and Stones, hoping to find these three, my most adoptables, homes.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Highway 20 Farm Cats and Dogs

Think cats and dogs can't get along? This dog loves cats and the cats love him. They all sleep piled atop one another nights. We got most of the cats living around this farm on Highway 20 fixed at an FCCO clinic, almost a year ago, but a few were too young, so I took the first one of that batch in for fixing today.

Plus, I love to stop by the stand. Alice sells her delicious organic strawberries there. The container I got didn't last for even a mile down the road, after I left with the cat to be fixed! Alice farms her strawberries south of Corvallis and is a good friend. Her strawberries sell in several local markets and at some farm stands.

I also bought a bag of in the shell filberts for $.75 and some farm fresh eggs. One can also buy duck and goose eggs there, if hungry. They're HUGE!

I'm also a big fan of Denison Organic Farm produce. Hope I spelled that right. That's probably because I helped them with a cat issue and really found them to be nice people. They're at the Corvallis Saturday Market. Stop by, and sample their most excellent produce.

I can't remember the name of the bee farm, present at the Saturday market, but their honey is THE BEST!

Gathering Together Farm produce is also excellent. They have Sunday brunches at the farm. One can sign up, pay, and attend. I haven't done so yet, but will be hoping to do that in the next couple of weeks.

We have great local farmers. And I do love supporting their efforts. BLUEBERRY SEASON IS COMING! Who can't wait, besides me?

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

So, what exactly are you saying, that I smell?

Double-skunked! Photo is of second skunk, as he is leaving my trap, after perfuming myself and my lovely car with "ode de skunk". Pepe LePu goodbye.

Babe in Hand! This little gray tabby female won't be one I have to locate and catch later when there are too many cats out there already reproducing. There's too many humans on Earth also. The easiest solution to global warming might be this: ---limit or stop reproduction in developed nations, especially, where each child born stomps heavily, in ecological imprint by overconsumption, on the earth and its capacity to support us all. Want to excessively consume, thereby poisoning the earth? Then the price will be this: You can't have kids.

I've had it tough since the skunk relocation. Didn't help to get a call this morning, about 7:00 a.m., same people, saying there was another skunk in another of my traps. "So didn't you get my phone message yesterday?" I asked, "that said, to close that trap after dark, so you wouldn't catch another skunk?" "No," the guilt-ridden voice admitted, "we were with our mom at the hospital until late."

These are nice folks. I went back up to get the second skunk, who stamped in warning as I approached. He'd been able to pull the towel clear off the trap in the night, so there was nothing between me and the mad skunk.

I used a rake they had, spread a towel out over the rake end, and deposited the towel over the skunk in the trap from a safe distance. Then I put a tarp over the trap and a blanket over the tarp and carried the second skunk to my car. They gave me a nice donation. I also went under the trailer. Immediately I heard crying kittens.

They were up in the insulation. I reached up in there blindly, through a small slit, and found a soft warm body with my hand and pulled out a tiny just born gray female. She was screaming her head off. I reached through the slit in the plastic covering the insulation to feel for more. And then, heard movement and a threatening growl from up in there. Mom! Angry mom!

I retracted my hand. But I wasn't going to put the kitten back. She had two or three more up there. Plenty for her. This kitten in my hand was a female. She'd grow up quickly. Maybe at four months, if I hadn't caught her, she'd be throwing a litter of her own out into this world of too many cats.

I do not believe these are kittens of the gray tux female fixed yesterday. She was just a teen, however, and these are just born kittens, but well hydrated, as if fairly recently fed. I had just released the gray tux female fixed yesterday at the Neuterscooter clinic. These are likely from one of the other two cats left to catch. A seemingly simple situation, of catching three cats fed by a nice old couple, had become intricately complicated, with skunks and kittens and an old couple not far from a move into assisted living.

I instructed the daughter and son-in-law, there for a few more days to help after surgery, from back east, to build a shelf off the porch railing, so the cats can be easily fed, but the food will not attract and encourage other wildlife. They are doing that today.

I took the second skunk out to join the first, leaving even more food. It's really an ideal place for skunks, although relocation, from home territory, is a very hard thing on any animal.

Maybe they'll survive. Maybe they won't. But they were going to be dead skunks if they remained there anyhow. At least they have a chance. At least now, there are two skunk buddies there. I didn't see the other, but when I first got out of the car and went around near the stream, I got a whiff of him. He's right in there close.

I stopped at a feed store to get KMR, for the bottle babe. I didn't think I smelled, but two employees began sniffing the air after I'd passed. One said to the other "What is that smell?" The other said, looking around accusingly, "That's skunk."

I tried to slither down an aisle out of sight, but people I passed turned to stare, then moved away.

In check out line, I could no longer ignore the glares. "I got skunked," I lied. Everyone was sympathetic then. At least, until I told them the second skunk was in my car, then the glares returned, like I was nuts.

Except for a few customers, who agreed that skunks should not be killed because they are one of the most beneficial animals around. They eat all sorts of destructive insects and mice. Farmers shoot them, for fun, and they shouldn't. We should all love skunks, for what they are so good at doing, naturally--no pollutants needed.

We've messed up our planet badly. We shouldn't go killing the most beneficial of creatures. That's just stupid human shit. Shotgun the skunks to death then fill the food chain and water table with all the chemicals it takes to do what skunks do naturally.

Stupid human stunts.

So Heartland had a mom with just born kittens and thankfully agreed to take in the kitten. I would have asked SafeHaven, but they adopt out kittens unfixed, and I don't want that for this kitten. I don't want her to go out and be part of the problem. THANK YOU Heartland. Again.

The mom, I just heard, quickly accepted the new kitten into her little new family.

So then I stopped by Shop and Kart, to get money orders to pay bills. I really didn't think I stunk badly by then. I had dumped Natures Miracle all over me, afterall, the skunk speciality kind. I know it's supposed to work for skunks because it has a little black skunk on the side of the bottle.

I was standing at the counter, waiting on a clerk, when another clerk goes by, a dozen feet away, and says, "What is that smell? Smells like somethings burning, like burning hair or something."

Helpfully I commented, "Maybe you have a short in the wiring in the deli, or some coffee is burning in the deli." Then I quickly turned back to the counter. Two employees approached the counter. I knew I was going to be pinpointed as the cause, but I still tried to divert.

Another employee said, "Oh my gawd, something's burning, hair or something. The other employee, staring straight into my eyes, said "Nope. That's skunk smell." Quickly, like a criminal pinned by the evidence, I confessed and then the employees just pretended they smelled nothing, bless their hearts.

I grabbed my money orders and trotted guiltily towards the door and out into my extremely stinky car. I was very aware of its smell by then, Nature's Miracle doused or not.

One employee yelled after me, helpfully, "If you're going to relocate skunks, maybe you should buy an old pickup." I threw a smile back her way then closed the door of my car, encasing me in the smell of my very bad rescue decision.

Oh well, time, wind, apple cider vinegar, and tomato paste heal most smells.

Moonshine's Blackness

It's hard adopting out cats, but adopting out black cats is even harder. Because Moonshine, the yard stray who now refuses to leave my garage, is black, SafeHaven won't consider taking her in for adoption as an Albany stray. I have no way to adopt her out. I haven't had a hit off petfinder in forever and a day.

When I moved, I turned invisible in the adoption world. I used to have no problem finding homes for multitudes of cats. But now, I couldn't adopt out a long hair manx Siamese female fixed kitten.

I think it's sad that there is such prejudice against black cats. They often have the fewest issues and make the most wonderful playful funny loving pets.

They don't have the issues of Siamese for sure. I'd rather have a black cat than most Siamese any day.

The blacks don't have the issues of most tortis and calicos, either, who are smart, clownish but often come with ego issues.

Black cats are wonderful.

Pretend you're color blind and let Moonshine's affection and playfulness overtake you.

Monday, May 21, 2007


Skunk in my live trap!

The skunk just prior to release, after over an hour and a half in my car. He seemed to enjoy the ride, however. At least, I was convinced he did. I chatted to him, and, off and on, held my nose.

And the last photo, below, is through the chicken wire of an old chicken shed, along a creek. Lots of frogs and crayfish, mice and bugs there, but he will also be fed for a couple weeks. Goodbye Beatle Bailey, my little car skunk friend of today.....good luck little fella. But you kind of stunk, to be quite brutally honest.

I got skunked. I ended up with a skunk in a live trap, a skunk without options except for option Mr. Big D. Mr. Skunk, whom I quickly dubbed Beatle Bailey, preferred not to experience the Big D at this point in his life. So, I took pity on Beatle Bailey and found him a nice new park like location and even someone to feed him, for a couple weeks, to ease his transition.

I was trapping cats for a nice old Salem couple. They mentioned they sometimes smell a skunk. I trapped one of the three cats they feed. The woman was going in today for hip replacement. Her daughter and her daughter's husband, were here from N.J. to help their parents out. It was likely a bad time to be getting her cats fixed. But she had called after being given my number by the vet. And I planned on trapping the colony this weekend.

Sunday, however, it was pouring down rain. I had to set a trap under their deck. That was the only dry place. I caught one female and left them two traps. But, they caught a skunk. The daughter didn't want the skunk to stay, since he'd been periodically smelling up the undersides of the trailer, which then drifted up inside. So the skunks' only other option was the animal control option---Mr. Death.

They said they'd pay my gas if I came up and dealt with the skunk. I said ok. The skunk travelled around half the day in a live trap in the back of my car. I finally had to out smell him, by spraying my Hazelnut pump action body spray, all over my clothes and the car, so I could stand the skunk smell.

He never sprayed, to be sure, but they still waft out a particularly strong BO, that can water one's eyes. My car still has aroma.

This same old woman loves my vet, has taken her pets there forever and a day. She told me some shocking news. She said Dr. Al and his wife are moving to Tennessee and already have found a young couple wanting to buy the clinic.

My heart pretty much stopped to hear this. I had no clue.

If he leaves, my capacity to get cats fixed vanishes also. No young vet couple are going to charge an old country vet's price. He never wanted to get rich, just help animals. Spays are $40 there, eartips free, and neuters $30. It's the only vet around here that will take Poppa funds. So when he goes, my capacity to fix cats is also gone.

So the news put my heart in my throat.

What will I do?

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Pebbles and Millyvanilly--Mill Cat Mom and Kitten

The photos are of Pebbles, the abbytabby tux female kitten I trapped up in the boiler room loft at Hull Oaks Mill, and of her mother, Millyvanilly, whom I hope to find a home for. She's gorgeous, and the effort she made to care for those kittens was Nobel Peace Prize worthy, I would think. She's eating a lot here, can't stop eating, in fact. Neither can the garage stray---Moonshine, who cannot believe she's finally getting enough to eat. What to do with all these strays?

I got my traps back finally about 9:00 p.m. I'd finally called and talked to the sheriff's office, asking advice on what to do at this point. So the deputy just stopped by the woman's place and told her to return them. She was about to anyhow, she claimed.

The deputy called me back and told me she was extremely angry, so not to come out of the house when she returned them. I said "No problem." It's been a stressful time, just trying to get my traps back. I don't see why it was a big deal at all to that woman to return my traps. For some reason, it was a huge deal. She had taken the dirty paper out of the traps, but hadn't cleaned them. The towel cage covers were there, but dirty, and one stank of male cat urine. But at least I got them back! Yay!

Anyhow, it's over I hope now. What a relief! It was stressful and I just didn't know what to do, to get my traps back, or even to say, since she'd gone ballistic just because I asked to get my own traps back, and, in the end, also asked they come back clean. Maybe she was severely stressed, like from school. Oh well. I hope she's ok and everything is finally fine. And aren't Pebbles and Millyvanilly cute? Don't you want to take one of them in? I'm going to bed and hug Miss Daisy, because it's been a really tough day.


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Car Hatch Lever Repair Project

I removed the back hatch opening lever last night. In so doing, I also had to remove the license plate lights, so I can't drive after dark until I get it fixed. I got some plastic bonding glue and some metal glue at Home Depot. Today I undertook an attempt to repair, at least temporarily, the broken hatch lever.

There were in total four broken latch clips or attachments. I had the broken pieces for two attachments, so I could glue those back together.

For the other two, I knew I'd have to get creative. One female part on the latch lever, that a male part, attached to the body of the car, settles into, was broken off on one side. I didn't have the broken piece.

I searched my garage and drawers for anything made of hard plastic that I might splice into the empty space created by the broken off piece. The only thing I could settle on, was the body of a 3 cc syringe I had used for a vaccine at some point.

I cut off a piece, rough sanded the bonding surfaces, and glued it in place. I don't know if it will hold.

The other broken off piece had held a clip, attached to the car body. I found a metal bracket in my old hardward cup, probably from a drawer I dismantled to create a stray housing unit. I trimmed it with tin snips then glued it onto the place where the broken part once was, on the latch lever.

We'll see if these repairs hold. The glue must set for seven hours and won't be permanently set for 24 hours.

In other news, it is almost 6:00 p.m. and still the woman who has my three traps has not returned them.

The piece of syringe I cut off, that will go over the broken area in the fastener to right.

The piece of syringe laying atop the fastener I will shortly glue it to.

The finished repair, although I will do some trimming and sanding.

This is a bracket I had in my parts cup. I trimmed the edges off with a tin snip and fit it over the area where a piece of the plastic of the car hatch lever, that holds a clip, used to be. I didn't have the broken off piece of plastic and finally settled on using a piece of metal. I did have metal bond glue, and used it, but only time will tell if it holds.

The retooled piece I made to replace the old piece of broken off plastic. Right after taking the photo, I set it in glue in place. But, will it hold?

Culture of Entitlement

A college student contacted me off craigslist, saying she had a bunch of ferals she was feeding and wanted fixed. I went out there one night. I didn't want to go that night, but I had spots the next day and the woman kept saying she'd be home, and finally, late, right in the middle of one of my favorite shows, Jericho, she said she was home. Out I went, figuring I set the traps quickly and leave. Jericho now has been cancelled. I'm going to miss that series. I liked it.

But first she had to feed her chickens and all that, when I arrived, like I was some slave, able to waste my time waiting around.

I let it go, set the traps finally, and caught three cats, which I picked up in the morning. Two were pregnant. She hadn't called, however, like she said she would do, if she caught cats that night. I called and called her, then finally went over and knocked for a long time on her door. She finally came out, said she'd been up early with one of her father's cows who got caught in a fence and apologized. I took the cats up, housed them overnight at my place and brought them back and released them. I really didn't want to trap there again.

But I did. I set traps, after she said there were more cats, and she said she'd found her own cat and she thought she was pregnant. Her cat had been gone for months, and she thought she had been killed by coyotes. She said she's a college student and couldn't afford the spay herself. So, I took her the next morning, too, along with two more ferals caught. She said she'd be home that night to receive them back.

I called about 4:30 and said I had the cats. She said she'd be home after 5:00 p.m. but would be leaving by 6:15. She and her mother were going to a Lipizan Stallion show at the fairgrounds. I arrived around 5:15. The gate was closed. Her mother and father were in the yard, dogs out, and did nothing to get the gate open. I couldn't get out of the car stopped as I was along that highway, where cars race by at a million miles per hour. Too dangerous.

I thought the daughter would come out. She'd said she'd be home. I was exhausted. She knew this. I waited and waited. The father just stared at me. The mother walked around some, and I thought she was trying to call the daughter out of the house, but, nobody came to the gate.

I was pissed off. I work my butt off as a volunteer. These folks had donated nothing. I'd just talked to her and she had said she'd be home by 5:00 and here I sat, by the edge of the road, with three more cats I'd taken up and gotten fixed for these entitled people, as a volunteer, paying out my money for gas and bait. I was in horrendous pain, too, from the cat in the tree incident. The pain thing really makes little problems, like when people say they'll do something and don't, harder to bear.

I finally just drove home. When I got home I left her a message that she would need to come get her own cats. She later left me a message that maybe she could come get them the next day, in the afternoon. I called back, but it went to message, and said I was not housing her cats, not unless she paid me to, that I had done her a favor, getting them fixed, and she needed to come get them. So she finally came, later, and took them. But she still had three of my traps. I had determined at this point, that I would not be getting anymore cats fixed for her.

I figured she would return the traps the next day. She didn't. I let it go, thinking, well, she'd return them on Thursday. She didn't. So I e-mailed her and left her a phone message. No response.

When I get no response like that, especially from a young person, I start thinking they've been in a car wreck. I don't know why, but I always think that.

No response to a phone message left Friday either. No response this morning to two phone messages.

The second think I start to think, when a person doesn't respond, like when they have my traps, is that they've decided to sell them, have given them to some friend, or, for some reason, that a close family member has died.

Finally I get an e-mail from her.

Here are the e-mails:

Here was my e-mail requesting my traps back:
I left you a message last night. Imagine you were in Eugene in class. I need to get my traps back from you for trapping I need to do. It's Friday. Let me know when either you can bring them by today or I can get them. Thanks.

Her response this morning, after I had left at least four messages over three days, requesting my traps be returned:

I am in class and will return your traps when I am out! And NO I will not be using your services anymore you have no right to treat me the way you have or say they things to me that you have. And believe me I will let my friends and family how rudely I was treated!

I have been very respectful and I helped you myself even though this is your service. I have volunteered for many years and still do and I have never spoke to anyone the way you have spoke or treated me. You volunteer to get money. Us others volunteer to help and because we love it. I have made many donations and have called and spoke with some vets about already making a donation of money and my time for my little girl! (I have no idea what she means by this) I will not go back and forth It's a waste of my time (fine for me to go back and forth) your trap will be put at your door when I am done!

(I have asked now twice, exactly when she will be returning my traps. All she'll say is 'when I'm out of class')

I wrote:

You got hundreds of dollars of free service. You got my free labor, free bait, even, free transport. The least you could do, is to return my traps promptly. That is what you call respect and responsible behavior. You have treated me just the opposite. My services---you got it all free. You donated nothing, then didn't even bother to return my traps, even though you knew I needed them. And you call me rude.

I am afraid I may have to call the sheriff to get my traps back. I think this woman might be nuts. You never know with people. I have no idea what she's even talking about in most of the last e-mail.

Her anger really doesn't affect me at all. She's young, stressed by school, and doesn't like to be called wrong about anything. Fact is, she messed up and treated the person who helped her like shit, then tried to divert blame. Very common behavior.

Fact is, she contacted me, wanting cats fixed, then I got six fixed. She claimed she's a poor college student over and over, so said she couldn't donate anything, and that's fine.

But, I do expect people to be there, when they say they will be, to pick up cats. For her to want me to keep them here an extra day, just because she wasn't home when she said she was going to be, and didn't want to come over to pick them up----lame! For her to then not return my traps-----really lame! For her then to insult me, call me names, make accusations, when she finally responds about returning the traps---immature and lame!

Will I get my traps back? Don't know. She was very angry and vague about it. I also asked that they be clean when she returns them, which is what prompted the angry responses about how rude I am. Well, if that's being rude, I will be rude. There is nothing cat fixers despise more than to help a person out by getting their house cats or strays they feed fixed, then to have carriers or traps return filthy and caked in cat shit.

So, she's ruined my day. I have to sit here waiting on those traps, so they won't be stolen if she dumps them in my yard, and yet she won't tell me when she's going to return them. What a sense of entitlement this person has, like she was owed this "service" and can abuse people at will.

Too bad cats wouldn't get fixed if I charged to trap and transport cats. People treat those who do things for them for free like they are of no value.

I'm in it for the cats, however. There are too many cats. It's not their fault. It's the fault of humans. Somebody's got to be out there fixing them, or trying to. But the people, the human race---I gave up on humans long ago.

Those neuterscooter people sure are nice, however. I liked that family a whole lot. If I were a vet, that's what I do---what they're doing. They're not getting rich, but they sure are nice people.

It is 3:30 p.m. Still no traps have been returned. I've waited on this woman all day. How selfish. I was supposed to trap a colony today, for fixing Monday at the Neuterscooter. Now I'll have to postpone. This college student is really not very nice.

When she comes, if she ever does, she will also yell at me, that nothing is her fault. I don't know what to do, actually. Maybe I should just call the sheriff.

After all, I've tried to get them back for days, and she's never returned a call about returning them. I told her I had to use them this weekend, too, and still she didn't answer. Really turns one sour on people.

Call up These Free Kitten Ads

Call up these free kitten ads, in today's paper, and ask that they fix their pets, and that they educate anyone adopting their kittens about feline overpopulation. Be respectful, but adamant about the effects of overpopulation.

Cute 6 wk old female kittens 1 part Siamese, 1 black, $10/each. No Sunday calls (541) 928-7045
May 18, 2007 Save ad


Loving, small female cat. Black & white, adoring companion. 541-754-1048
May 17, 2007 Save ad


Free: 2 male kittens. Russian blue mix box trained, healthy, 6 weeks. 541-740-2504. must show ID.
May 16, 2007 Save ad


FREE CUTE KITTENS Box Trained. Please call after 1pm, (541) 928-8510
May 15, 2007 Save ad


Free to good home 5 wk old kittens male & female, box trained, ready to go. (541) 730-5604

Miss Daisy: "I've done nothing...."

Two photos of Stones, one of the two boiler room kittens. And then, there's Miss Daisy, sitting atop the spin toy looking up at me exuding pure innocense. But I had come charging out of my bedroom for a reason--the dish drying tray lay on the floor with dishes, some broken, scattered. Miss Daisy could not have done such a thing! Noooooo....she's just too cute and sweet.



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Friday, May 18, 2007

Moonshine--the stray who won't leave, and Car Injuries

Moonshine is the black female who refuses to leave my garage. She's been inside it for several days. I had gotten her spayed and worried she might have kittens somewhere out there. Usually I release a stray the day after spay, but she has refused to leave my garage. If I take her out, she starts howling at the kitchen window piteously, until I give in. She's very beautiful and sweet and has been eating everything in sight, but I'm not sure what to do with her and still am worried she's decided to abandon possible kittens. She gets beaten up routinely, when trying to enter my yard to eat, by the neighbor mans' black tux.

My car's rear hatch latch now just hangs by the electrical cord. It was broken when someone tried to ratchet the back of my car open, over near College Park Drive, when I was returning cats I'd gotten fixed. One clip on the one end, was only partially broken and held on, until a week ago, when it gave, too.

I have been keeping it attached with duct tape. But when it gets warm, the tape fails. Without the hatch lever, I can't get into the back of my car, which would make it difficult to load and unload cats. I will have to unplug the electrical cord, however, now, and remove the latch handle entirely. The cost for replacing just that little piece of plastic, just for the part alone, is over $100. Can you believe it? I have been trying to find one in a junkyard, but not too many Scions have wrecked so far, so they're hard to find. Plus if I found one in a junked Scion, it would likely not be a color match, which is the least of my concerns currently. I am going to try to remove the rear hatch completely, then the inside panel and glue it back on. But I am dubious of my ability to do this and have it all work out ok.

Currently, I am still in severe pain in my neck and shoulders, from peering into that tree, when trying to get the scared cat out of it. It wasn't the hoisting of the trap up into the tree that killed me. It was the looking up. I am paying a big price for that mistake. When this happens, and it isn't often because I usually obey the metal plate in neck rules, it can take up to two weeks to de-inflame my neck nerves. I can tell you just straight up, seering sharp nerve pain isn't fun to bear. It can make one very irritible and cranky. I've been laying in bed off and on all day, packed in ice. The pain is severe.

Then I accidentally, in just trying to alleviate boredom, when fixing something simple yesterday evening, slipped with the power screwdriver and it bored into the side of my left thumbnail. Now that was painful and still is. I tried to tell myself, "it's no big deal. It's just a little hole in your thumb and it will heal." I cut most of the flap of exposed but still hanging skin off, hoping this would help, so it wouldn't catch on things.

That worked for awhile, until I woke in the night, with searing neck pain again, and rolled in bed, catching the edge of skin on the side of the hole on my injured thumb, sending it into a bout of extreme throbbing. The thing is inflamed and red, too. More ice, this time on thumb.

Ahhhh, life can be kind of dicey at times.

When taking the cats up to the Portland rescue a week ago, I was suddenly hit, in the windsheild by at least two rocks while driving I5, near Woodburn. The cracking sound of being smacked hard by flying rocks made me duck. Now, I have a crack spiraling down from one point of impact. Cost to replace the windshield, which will eventually have to be done, due to the quickly expanding crack----over $200, maybe more.

I can afford only liability insurance, so I am not covered. Hopefully the cracking goes slowly, so I can save up for the inevitible windshield replacement I will need. I wish these gravel trucks would secure their loads and clean their tire treads of gravel before hitting the highway.

There was a gravel truck up ahead of me, a dirty overloaded gravel truck also pulling a trailer carrying a piece of heavy equipment. I tried to catch up to get their license plate number because the rocks came off their truck, but I couldn't get that plate number. The plate was too dirty for me to read while travelling 65.

Albany Trapper Woman Moving

The woman I met, because a neighbor down the street is a collector, is likely moving very shortly. Her husband, with a brand new college degree, may have landed a job in southern Oregon.

T is also in school now. I don't know how she does it--school, work (the sole supporter of the family currently) and taking care of the house and kids. She's amazing. She's also young and that helps with such a schedule.

She was exasperated, with a neighbor who refused to fix her myraids of cats, yet would let them free roam, to fight with every other cat around, even the fixed ones she owns. She and other neighbors also were dismayed by the badly cared for cats, who often had injuries or active URI's. The police told her to post trapping notices and trap any cat without identification. She did. She and another neighbor also went and talked to the collector who gave her permission to fix any of her cats that ended up in her trap.

I'd take the cats up to be fixed. Over 16, she trapped. She adopted out a few of those. Then she trapped the male with a six by four inch piece of skin missing off his throat. She was horrified to see this and called me, even though it was nearly midnight. I took the cat to the vet the next day. She called the cops, wanting the collector charged. Instead, the cops came after me, calling me a cat theif and threatening me with arrest. They called my vet, too, and told him I'd stolen the cat I brought up that day. Untrue.

It devastated me. It made T feel bad, too, that I'd paid a price for helping clean up their neighborhood. The collector went and got the cat from the vet, went around to neighbors claiming that T had broken into her house and stolen the cat, which of course nobody believed. Then she let the cat, still woozy and groggy from anesthesia, out on the streets. T says she still sees him, and that his neck from that wound which she never cared for, looks awful. I said "At least he's neutered now, thanks to us, and other males won't be picking fights with him, increasing liklihood of infecting that neck and throat wound."

So anyhow, that ended T's desire to get cats fixed on her block. She's selling the trap she'd bought and now they're leaving Albany, she thinks, although it may be a couple of months, and won't be sorry to leave that street.

I talked to her last night on the phone. I'd gotten in some dog food and figured she could use some. That's when she told me they're likely moving.

I like them.

The husband recently answered my call for help getting a couch from Goodwill to here in their pickup. He came right over. We went down and picked it up, and then he helped me get it in here. I'd wanted a couch. It was a good one, I thought. I saw at Goodwill a couple weeks ago. So I paid for it and now I have a couch to fall asleep on, which I have been consistently doing, instead of falling asleep all crimped up, on the short little loveseat. The cats also approve of the couch.

I'm very happy for them. They will sell the Albany house and they hope to buy a house down there somewhere with some land. They are animal lovers, plus they have not liked the confinements and conflicts of tightly packed Albany living. They've had neighbor issues, too, big time. They live close to where I live.

I will miss them. I think they're about the only honest people I know in Albany right now. I don't know many people here, only people I've helped with cat issues. I panic too, thinking about being stuck here, if gas prices explode, without access to decent parks even, or cheap shopping.

I told my brother how alone I feel here, and how it's a different world in Albany---rather vicious in a way and self-centered, and that I fear any upheavals in the world would strand me here alone and that I don't want to grow old here. He said to keep my gas tank as full as I could, and to just leave, if trouble in the world turned cities like Albany dangerous.

I was isolated in Corvallis, too. But I felt comfort in the fact I had areas where I felt serene, and could find peace, when I needed it. Places like hideaways I maintained along the river. Places like Bald Hill park and up in Macdonald Forest and in Chip Ross parks.

I also like Willamette Park. There's a gravel beach on the river there, an old ferry landing I think. And a piece of concrete slab that sticks out of the water about twenty feet from the bank, depending on river levels. I'd wade or swim out to that slab and lay on it, with the water gurgling all around and love it.

Another thing I'd do would be to swim out to one of two islands near Willamette park. I'd start upstream, so I could use the current to make it over, usually clutching my trusty innertube, or pulling it. One island is almost directly opposite the park itself. The other is farther down, just before you get to Crystal Lake Boat Landing. I'd then have my own private island! Usually, when I'd swim to a river island, I carried a lunch, in a waterproofed container. What fun!

Anyhow, I'm exploring areas where I could take off to, to live long term if need be, if the world deteriorates. And maybe even if it doesn't. I'm not a city girl. I've never been comfortable tightly packed into concrete and car exhaust. I don't have the money to buy a vacation house somewhere nice or even rent a vacation cabin now and then. But who needs that? I live in Oregon.

I am a fortunate person. I see the beauty of this Oregon valley almost every day. It takes my breath away. It makes me marvel at my luck, to have been born in Oregon. Oregon is a treasure. How many people in this over crowded world get to see such beauty, as we see here, every day or ever?

I live in Oregon, where the climate is mild and campgrounds and forest hideaways and rivers still exist and are beautiful.

God bless Oregon and its citizens who have kept up our state better than many and kept public lands open for all to enjoy.

The black female yard stray, whom I've dubbed Moonshine, refuses to leave my garage. I got her spayed a few days ago. I was concerned she might be lactating, however slightly. The vet thinks she's finished nursing kittens, but recently.

She'd come and just gobble food desperately outside, where I have been feeding her, and another black male, whom I got neutered weeks ago. The old man's cats, from next door, harrass them if they enter my yard. The old man's black tux cat isn't nice at all.

So, after Moonshine was spayed, she refused to leave the garage. I was worried she might have kittens she's decided to leave on their own. If I put her outside the garage, she howls and howls, until I let her back in. She is eating everything in sight and obviously very desperately wants to be my cat and be loved, but what if there are kittens out there she's still feeding. Her boobs are swollen, but I can't get milk from them.

There's not much I can do, at this point. When I put her out, hoping she'll go to her kittens, if any exist and haven't been taken by someone or killed by raccoons or neighborhood pitbulls, of which there are several, she screams wanting in. This attracts the neighbor man's mean tux, who attacks her. So I give in, and let her back in the garage.

The man in Bellfountain who had approached me at the mill, saying he'd been elected to shoot the Bellfountain strays, about twenty of them, but would rather get them fixed and place them as barn cats, is now not responding to phone calls or e-mails. I had left him messages by phone and e-mail, that I could get probably all of them fixed on Monday, through the neuterscooter. I am guessing those cats are doomed and maybe already have been shot. I don't know this for sure, but it seems he would have replied by now.

I lived an unhealthy lifestyle, nearly all my life, while in the mental health system. I was drugged up like a zombie on up to nine destructive psyche meds, that ballooned my weight, even skyrocketed by lipid and cholestrol levels (Zyprexia) and enlarged my heart, nearly causing my death (chlozapine). I sat in the Benton Plaza staring at walls. I took up cigarette smoking, since everyone smoked I knew and nobody had any hope of living any sort of meaningful life. In fact, most people I knew then didn't care if they lived or died. There was just no meaning to life or purpose to life lived in such a fashion---poor, controlled and drugged to the hilt on psyche drugs. I got tardiv diskenesia, a nerve issue, --side affect of psyche drugs, that still contorts my face with twitches if I am tired or nervous, from forced prolixen injections. Tardiv diskenesia never goes away.

So many of my friends in the mental health system killed themselves. I tried over and over. It was the hopelessness and meaninglessness of life in that system--the abuse, patronization, and one had no reason to get up in the morning. Leaving the system and helping cats, which gave me joy and purpose, saved me from certain death.

Now I'm free of "mental health treatment" which really was a county forced drugged up unhealthy lifestyle. The after effects of living that way for 30 plus years has taken its toll on my body and my mind, so much so that I really don't expect to live a long life.

I have wanted to initiate some changes and never have. I smoke one to two cigars a day. I quit smoking cigarettes after leaving the Benton Plaza, even while under the severe stress of homelessness. I started smoking in the state hospital. An aide gave me a pack and told me smoking would calm me down. I immediately quit, but when I lived at Januse House, a group home on 5th and Western, everyone smoked and inside. The air in there was a blue haze of smoke always. So, you smoked whether you smoked or not.

I moved from there into the Benton Plaza. I had zero self-esteem and no hope. I took up smoking to fit in. Pathetic, in retrospect.

I quit in the mid nineties after smoking about ten years. After three months, I underwent extreme stress. A friend committed suicide. I went looking for a store that sold a single cigarette. Instead, I bought a single cigar. I became addicted to those. I smoke very little now. I take a few puffs off a cigar and put it out. But I want to kick the habit completely. It's disgusting.

I do usually eat a healthy diet. I rarely drink pop. I eat a lot of fruit and vegetables. But I'm fat and I want to lose weight. I also want to start a more serious exercise program. Is it too late for me to change? I'm over 50.

Even if I die tomorrow, it's not too late. We're all going to die. I'm not afraid of death, although I like life a lot. My life choices, for 30 years while incarcerated in a destructive hopeless system I thought I would never escape, may now limit my life after I did escape.

Some things I could not have changed. I was forcibly drugged by the mental health system and those psyche drugs were destructive on my body. I could not have changed that. I'm sure the mental health workers and hospitals believed they were doing me a favor. But, they acted like sheep, obeying orders, like Nazis gassing Jews. They never questioned their own actions.

Anyhow, now, though much damage is done, I am going to change some things, whether it helps or not, don't care. Some things gotta go. Time for some self-discipline and some fun!

Abusing Animals is Ungodly Behavior

Abuse of animals, including research using animals, is ungodly behavior. Abuse of animals is anti-life. I've often wondered why the religions of the world don't take a stand against research using live animals or animal abuse. I suppose truely religious people do.

I also believe our society's violence and disregard for life has a great deal to do with disrespect for animals and nature, with feeling like we are above it all, with an "anything goes" attitude towards research and "use" of resources.

And then there's this. Most religions believe a god, a higher species, has taken an interest in the welfare and ultimate well-being, of a lower species--us humans. It would then follow that those who work to help animals, a lower species relative to us, we believe, are exhibiting godlike behavior.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

OSU's Purchase of Animals from Collectors/Bunchies

I was doing a search on pet theives---disgusting pigs who steal pets and sell them to researchers, medical universities and, very notably Oregon State University. I came up with the post title link to an article about the notorious animal abusers and thieves--the Baird Family of Arkansas.

The Bairds also sold animals, many, no doubt stolen pets, to Oregon State University for research. Oregon State also bought dogs and cats from our local version of the Bairds--the Hickeys. The Hickey's stole pets and they'd pay kids to steal people's pets, then, in turn, the kids would use the earned money to buy drugs from the Hickeys.

The Hickey's operated in this area actively in the 70's and allegedly, some relatives still do buy, sell (maybe steal) pets in this area. I have run into some of the "Hickey kids", the kids paid to steal people's dogs and cats years and years ago. All of the ones I've met are drug addicts, mental cases and/or criminals. The soul-less act of stealing, abusing and killing people's pets and abusing animals consumed them, ruined them.

These aren't normal people.

But then, those who do horrendous experiments or confine animals for research, expose them to disease, remove parts of their bodies, cut vocal cords so they don't bark, whine or cry out in pain, --to inflict such suffering upon the animals for long periods of time---these aren't normal people either. In fact, they are very distorted souls. Many justify their animal abuse, by saying they are participating in "progress".

But it's done for money, to make it. It's called selling one's soul.