Tuesday, July 02, 2013

Wore Myself Out, Fighting Bills That Shouldn't Be

I have worn myself out, fighting that bill that shouldn't be.

Peter Courtney, in defense of his own bill, before his senate passed it, loudly claimed they could have intervened earlier in the Keizer fake rescuer, who had five or six dogs stuffed per carrier, if they could have done so without a warrant.  Wouldn't that be easy, to just solve all crimes by entering places without a pesky warrant?  To ransack homes for evidence of drugs, because they got an anonymous phone call that said there might be drugs, surround and enter your home to seize your computers (and anything else) if someone anonymously said you might be stealing ID's, even if you weren't and that caller was the new boyfriend of your ex on a payphone, turning away to cover smurks.

Not many seem up in arms that a rescuer's home could be entered without benefit of warrant protection.  What if it were you?

A bill like this won't help stop people like that Springfield Persian breeder, caught throwing two of her cats into the Willamette in a plastic bag.  She had 60 unfixed breeding stock at home.  They were not seized, her home not entered and searched.    She received a hand slap from the law for her despicable actions.

I think little rescues got sold down the river for a pot of gold.  I think HSUS made some rounds a few weeks back, offered out some grants to shelters.  Money buys a lot of things.  Silence.  Support.  I don't know for sure they did this.  I have an inkling only from some post on a page.  What does an organization do, when they do need money, but when there may be unspoken strings attached to that money?  Do you sell out?  Ignore those strings?  Justify taking it anyhow?  What if you're not sure the strings are there in the first place?

A gift is a gift and comes with an expectation.  Always does.  When I get a card from someone, a simple card, I feel an obligation to return the favor.

However it makes me feel very sad, like I've been mocked, sold out, by people who have pretended.  Makes me feel awkward to be me.  Sold for a silver coin.   And in some ways, free, to know.  It's better to know!

People who claim to be friends that don't have your back when you are under the gun are not friends at all.    Shelters who claim little rescues are their partners but who support this bill or remain silent, a bill that would create such hardships and fees and fines and illegal searches of their homes, for little rescues, are not our friends.

It's quite sad all around.  Linn County cats have no recourse but for rescues.

I finally took my raft up to the lake late yesterday afternoon.  The cigarette lighter has never worked in that car.  I can't attach a pump to it and blow up a raft, for instance.

I was huffing and puffing hand pumping that raft up.  A woman comes up concerned and says "It's 100 degrees out.  Do you have water?"  I grinned and said "I do."

I had no food though.  I'd rushed up, eager to leave it all behind, without eating breakfast or lunch.

I got out on the lake, rowing first across one arm, then, to escape the noisy jet skiis there, rowed around the point and down into another quieter arm, then across that.  I found a beach and took a nap.  Until jet skiis found me there.  It's a noisy lake, but young people like those jet skiis, like the noise and the speed. They like to show off, or out do their friends.  Oh to be young again.

After rowing a couple of hours, I wanted to be a pirate, and board one of the large boats and demand or steal a hot dog!  I was very hungry.

It was so fun.  Not that relaxing this time, however, with all the jet skiis and boats and noise.  Still fun.

Packing up the raft, with my three wheel homemade cart to haul it back to my car, wasn't that easy.  I have to figure out an easier way.  Maybe I was just really tired out by then.

I stopped by Ian and Becky's place in Lebanon on the way back.  They're the folks I met last May, when I got about 18 adult cats fixed Becky fed, and took 24 kittens out of the area.  It changed Becky's life, to have them all fixed.  Most recently, Hobo showed up there, whom I took to be fixed, then was going to rehome but he was very ill and positive for leukemia, poor old sweet guy.  He was euthanized. Becky and I have been friends ever since last May, when I first met her.  I'm friends with her son and daughter-in-law too.  They fed me supper!

I met so many wonderful ordinary people when I was a cat wrangler, like Becky and Ian, like farmers and single moms and mechanics and veterans and yes, meth addicts and homeless souls.  I met so many wonderful cats also, many of whom I remember with clarity.  I know so many cats in this area by name or by sight.  I have so many memories.

Rescues are under fire in Oregon, being equated with animal abusers.  That does not reflect reality.  It's some strange vendetta and world view some stranger has going.  Some stranger with power and money and political clout.   I'm glad I ran into Mango in the shell station parking lot before the stranger decided to write something into law that would mean Mango could not be saved.

I'm glad I met Valentino before this day also.  And so many hundreds of others.

Under the stars, in the vastness of space and time, we are nothing.

That stranger, who wrote the bill, she also is nothing under the stars.  I think she should go out, and stare into the stars, some black night, and understand.

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