Originally posted in 2013
As an animal advocate, I prefer to avoid consuming them. Instead, I’m perfectly happy watching cows and sheep graze the rolling hills of Marin. I pretend they’re able to do that until a ripe old age, whereupon they die in a pasture, fat and happy.
The truth is, there’s not much I can do for these particular animals except refuse to dine on them. Still, I find it frustrating to know I’m helpless to change their fate. Continue reading
As you may know, I’d do just about anything to help a neglected or abused animal, even if it means getting arrested. In fact, it’s #12 on my bucket list. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s probably inevitable. Fair warning: this post isn’t humorous but it has a happy ending.
Being in feral cat rescue for 20 years, I’ve had my life threatened, been chased, harassed, flipped off, even had our equipment destroyed and stolen. Fun stuff. But I’m not intimidated, nor are my cohorts. We’re fearless (which might not be smart) because when an animal is being abused or neglected, we take action.
In our area, Animal Control can’t remove a pet who has food, shelter, water, and who seems to be in good physical condition. So when they were called to check on this dog (let’s call her Sadie), she appeared to be okay. But when her physical condition deteriorated, our phone rang. The caller was worried Animal Control might have to return the dog. But us? Not a chance. There was only one solution:
By now you know I live with 10 pets — three dogs and seven cats.
Notice I didn’t say they live with ME because in reality I live with THEM. And boy do they know it. I’m a bit outnumbered, especially with my cats. So consequently, what I want is of no interest to them. My purpose in their eyes? Make sure their bellies are full, and to accommodate them, use no more than the very edge of my king size bed.
Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. And lest you think otherwise, I’m actually sane (although it may not seem that way to petless people). But that’s fine with me. You’re entitled to your opinion, however erroneous it may be. Fortunately, I don’t fault you for it.
I’ve lived alone now for nearly 15 years, if having a ton of pets can be considered living alone. I guess I should say I’m the only human in my house. It was my first time going solo since I left my parents home to share a rental with Sharon.
I believe I have an overactive compassion gene. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that’s a particularly bad trait, depending on how you look at it. For one thing, it means I’m not a psychopath since they tend not to have an ounce of compassion, let alone a conscience. So yay for me!
The reason I even brought this up is because I’m in animal rescue, specifically cats. Not that I don’t rescue other creatures. I’m what you would call an equal opportunity savior. Wait. That sounds pompous. Let me rephrase that. How about equal opportunity rescuer? Yeah, that’s better.
Now you’re going to think I’m a bit looney. And you wouldn’t be far off, especially when I tell you what I did the other day…So I’m having lunch at home when I reach for my glass of water and notice a fly inside, swimming frantically in circles. I’m not entirely certain flies swim but whatever it was doing, it looked frantic.
What I’m about to tell you is just between us. Loose lips not only sink ships, they can also land me in the slammer. The problem with that? I doubt jail caters to vegetarians and I’m guessing their sleeping arrangements aren’t as comfy as my king size Sleep Number bed with pillow-top padding.
Since you’re finished reading about our dog rescue on Mare Island, I figure this is a good time to tell you about another canine rescue I was part of. Some might call it a dognapping and they wouldn’t be incorrect. But I prefer to label it as a life or death rescue intervention.
Here’s what happened: One of my feral cat caretakers (who we’ll refer to as Shannon) was told by her daughter (let’s call her Kelly) about a dog she discovered living out of state locked in a cage in a basement with no food or water. Pretty cruel, huh? The dog was horribly malnourished and basically ignored by her so-called guardian, a drug addict who we’ll call The Neglector.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 