-=-namaste-=-
tuesday, november 13
Did you know that if a seven pound human baby
grew at the same rate as today's factory farmed turkeys, at 18 weeks of age,the baby would weigh 1,500 pounds!??!Turkeys have been so altered that
they are unable to mount and reproduce naturally, and as a result, all
commercial turkeys are products of artificial insemination.Check it out marysfreerangeturkeys.com or wholefoods.com or whole food's partner Wild Oats... not sure what their website is. We ordered a turkey (yes, I ordered the turkey... it nearly killed me, but I have to think of Mat and the people who are coming to dinner) from Whole Foods. It is a Diestel Turkey, and it is guaranteed to have been raised free-range and organic with no antibiotics or growth hormones. It was not that expensive... I think that we are getting one to feed 8-10 people for less than $28.
Dubya's peoples are trying to tack drilling in the Alaska Arctic Refuge onto the economic stimulus package. No big suprise. At least they could TRY to hide their loyalty to Big Oil. Anyway, as soon as you read this go to the World Wildlife Fund's Conservation Action Network and sign up to be a member. They hardly ever email action alerts unless they are super important. You will not get junk mail or anything. And send a letter to Miss Feinstein and Barb Boxer -- or whoever your senator is if you don't live in Cali!!!! It is an easy email form letter. If you have time and the desire, personalize it first. They pay more attention...If you don't want to join the Action Network, just email them on your own. But PLEASE do something. I saw a picture of a mother polar bear and her cub watching her other cub dying from antifreeze ingestion. It is the saddest thing that I have seen in a long time, and I have never forgotten it. This is the least that will happen to the animals in the refuge if Dubya and his cronies have their way...
I'd like to drill in their homes... see how they like it...
anyone ever read The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey?
3:50 PM 0 comments
sunday, november 11
This is the second time I have had to type this long story because something happened the first time, and it didn't get posted. ARGH!So, we have a pretty grumpy neighbor. He is the neighbor who knows the second that you are parked in his driveway and tells you to move, even if you are moving a couch. seriously. If you aren't parked in his driveway, though, he is nice enough. I often talk to him on the street, just small talk. He has the most adoreable, big, huge st. bernard named Charles.
Charles used to come bounding up to anyone he saw and lick their hands and push his 150-pounds of doggy decadence against your knees and smile. Speaking of knees, though, he has bad ones. His gait was always more like a wobbly gallumphing that was anything but graceful. I love Charles.
About two months ago, the neighbor moved Charles down into the yard. There is a little fenced-in, protected spot where Charles now lives. Neighbor explained to me that Charles is getting old and more crippled and can no longer get up and down the stairs to his home. Charles seemed pleased with his new digs for about two days. Then he realized that no one from his family ever comes to visit him. And when they do, all they do is change the water in his bowl or give him some dog food.
Charles, the socialite, quickly became Charles the depressed dog who only sleeps all day. And cries. He cries, and I hear him. I go down there to pet him some, but I can tell that he wants his owners. He is so depressed. It is heartbreaking. And his cell is full of his own poop, there are flies hovering around. He sheds, and his hair is everywhere. He doesn't get bathed, so he smells horrible the poor thing. I have gotten to the point where I dread going out into the yard, passing his cage, or even looking out the window. Charles is such an overwhelming, all-pervading sense of sadness for me. I went home for a wedding in September and dreaded coming back to see him laying there or hobbling around or worse crying.
Yesterday, it was POURING rain. When it started raining, I looked out there. I decided to wait a few minutes to see if his owners would come down and help him as he was getting soaked. No one came. My hands clenched into fists, my jaw tightened so tightly that I think that I bit my tongue, I was literally seeing red. If I had been a cartoon character, smoke would have been coming out of my ears. Charles was hobbling around trying to get his massive body underneath the seat of a stationary bike.
I ran down there, screaming into the air about what an asshole neighbor is, how incredibly inhumane this is, this should be illegal. Charles's area was covered in swiftly-running rivers soaking his little bed and him. I ran up and got some of our bath towels, dried him off. His eyes looked into mine, and I cried and screamed some more. Two months worth of overwhelming sadness was manifesting itself. I was shaking with sorrow and anger as I held his big, innocent, adorable head. He has been thrown away by his family becuase he's not young and fun anymore, and he doesn't understand why. I built a little shelter for Charles out of our card table and towels, and came inside and wrote the meanest, nastiest letter I have written anyone to neighbor.
Mat edited the letter, but it was still pretty intense. It was about how something has got to be done about Charles and describing his living conditions and how horrible all of this is... it was mean in parts. I put it on neighbor's door.
Hours later, he appeared on our doorstep to talk to me about the letter. He was nearly in tears talking about how they were having so much trouble with the decision to put Charles down. He and his 16 year-old daughter just haven't been able to find the heart to do it, he has never had to put a pet down, they have had him for so long, etc. He told me to be patient, that they were planning on having him put down sometime in the next week to week and a half. he apologized. he looked sad, desperate, broken. I feel like the meanest, most judgemental, irrational , selfish hag in the world.
The fact remains that no one ever comes down to hang out with Charles, which is my main beef with the situation. But, I could have handled this differently. I could have talked rationally to him when I had calmed down. I wish that I could get that letter back and burn it. Instead, it is there in his apartment where he can read it over and over while he sits there alone and mourns his dog.
This has sent me reeling. I usually never rock the boat. I always just try to make everyone happy. Yesterday I decided to stand up for Charles (of course there's an animal involved -- the only thing that could make me this angry), and for once I said what I felt without worrying about wether or not it was going to make everyone happy... and look what happened. The self-doubt and regret and guilt and sheer self-reproach is crippling. On mat's advice, I am going to take him an apple pie in a few minutes and tell him that I am sorry about the letter.
me = cowpie
7:30 PM 0 comments