Devastated, distraught, destroyed

Posting for tonight (maybe longer, it’s too early to say) is gonna be delayed a bit, due to the awful fact that, after getting back home from a long afternoon of schlepping my brother around all over CLT on a quest for Freightshaker parts, I found one of my feline foursome, Mr Bunny Fluffster—so named by my daughter Madeleine because, even not long after he was born, she noted he had, and I quote, “big bunny feet!” Plus, he was, y’know, fluffy—which he still is, actually, although he did eventually grow those big ol’ bunny feet of his into proper proportion with the rest of him.

He must have gotten out through this open vent hole in Madeleine’s bedroom closet, I figger. Usually the door to that room stays closed, but as she was here over the weekend it’s been open; we had covered that vent hole with doubled-up cardboard and Gorilla tape, but either the tape let go—unlikely, I think, since Gorilla tape has never failed me before—or the cats worried at it and worried at it until it finally gave up the ghost.

Either way, my sweet little Bunny-boy is outside in the cold, where he has never been before, and I’m worried sick about him. So I’ll be headed to the front door, where I set out a small dish of dry food and water for him, and calling for him every few minutes, probably all night long unless by some miracle he shows up before too long. So if posting here is tardy or even nonexistent, well, now you know why.

My blog-bud KT ran a pic of baby Bun-Bun on the AoSHQ Pet Thread a while back, one of my all-time favorite kitteh pictures; in the photo, Bun is the grey and white bicolor kitten in the driver’s seat, with his brother Sluggo sprawled out on the hood.

Cute little booger, no? Here’s one taken just last week, of my two good boys cuddled up together on the bed as sister Precious wonders what the heck is going on.

All four feline Musketeers were born five years ago on Easter Sunday; their mama, Fearless, was probably nabbed by a coyote just after they’d been weaned. There was a fifth kitten in the litter, which was adopted by Brack’s little sis Lauren and is living large with her and her husband Jem.

Although it might seem sort of a trivial thing to be bothering the Almighty with, you better believe I’ve been sending up the prayers for Bunny’s safe return in job lots over the past hour or so. You critter lovers will readily understand my anguish; non-critter people never will.

The power of prayer update! YESSS YESYESYESYESYES!!! After Barry’s comments-section suggestion to put some wet food outside to entice him, I set the two-chambered dish he and Precious eat their evening wet-food treat from (with his side still full, natch) out by the door with the other goodies. A bit over a half-hour passes, and I go to call for him again. This time, Sluggo and Precious were sitting at the door so close their noses were practically touching the glass, tails switching madly back and forth: clearly, there was something out there that had caught their attention completely. 

I roll up, open the door, and lo! All the wet food, all the dry food, and about half the water were gone! Fearing it might have been et by a damned raccoon or some other neighborhood outdoor cat, I started calling for Bun one more time, still not daring to hope. Then: a scratchy, soft little “meow” from off to the right side of the deck that I knew could have but one source! Sure enough, Bun-Bun hopped onto the deck from the right, took a long, yearning look at his joyously-relieved Daddy, then looked past me through the open door where all the warm was, as well as his three anxious siblings gathered behind me. I backed out of the doorway, called to him again, and hey presto! He dashed back home to us.

After the four-legged chums had all touched noses in glorious reunion, Bunny-boy beelined for the dry food dish and ate his fill while I sat by and rubbed his back, shoulders, and head, that internal cat-motor running smooth as fine silk. I could maybe be more delighted, but at the moment I sure don’t see how. Barry, many, many thanks for the suggestion, it sure enough did the trick.

All’s well that ends well update! Well, THAT sure didn’t take long.

Snapped just now with my phone, from in front of my desk. That’s a warm, cozy, happy boy, right there. I’m pretty damned happy my own self, I must say.


Promise: BROKEN

Yes, yes, I know I said Tuesday that there would be no more H-ween posts this year. What can I tell ya, I lied. Or spoke too soon, anyway.

Heh. Too funny. Nice to see that the WRD folks have a sense of humor, and don’t take themselves too seriously; in this day and age, that’s a rare thing indeed. Thanks to KT for the steer.

For widest possible dissemination update! Another from KT’s Pet Thread, this one of no small importance to you outdoorsmen who enjoy taking the doggie(s) along when hiking in the woods.

On day 12 of searching for my dog in a heavily wooded area, distraught and hopeless, I ran into a couple of hunters. They said they lost the occasional dog on a hunt but always got them back. What they told me has helped many dogs and families be reunited. I’ve given their advice out a few times in the last couple days, so I thought if reddit has any lost dogs out there, this could help:

The dog owner(s) should take an article of clothing that has been worn at least all day, the longer the better, so the lost dog can pick up the scent.

Bring the article of clothing to the location where the dog was last seen and leave it there. Also, if the dog has a crate & familiar toy, you can bring those too (unless location undesirable for crate). You might also want to leave a note requesting item(s) not to be moved.

Leave a bowl of water there too, as the dog probably hasn’t had access to any. Do not bring food as this could attract other animals that the dog might avoid.

Come back the next day, or check intermittently if possible. Hopefully the dog will be waiting there.

I was skeptical and doubted my dog would be able to detect an article of clothing if he didn’t hear me calling his name as loud as possible all day for 12 days. But I returned the next day and sure enough found him sitting there!

I hope this helps someone out there who’s missing a best friend. Good luck

Excellent idea, and well worth remembering for any dog lovers out there. Hopefully you’ll never need to resort to this advice, but one never knows.

Texas Tough

This poor woman had a VERY bad day.

SILSBEE, Texas – A snake fell out of the sky and landed on a woman mowing her yard.

The bizarre incident didn’t stop there. Peggy Jones was then attacked by a hawk.

“The snake was squeezing so hard, and I was waving my arms in the air. And then, this hawk was swooping down clawing at my arm over and over,” explains Peggy Jones. “I just kept saying, ‘Help me, Jesus, Help me, Jesus.’’

The hawk eventually ripped the snake off of her arm and flew away with it. Jones thinks the hawk came down on her at least four times trying to get the snake. She says blood was everywhere. Her husband heard the commotion and came running.

“I was yelling and screaming. He didn’t know what I was saying. I thought I was bit by a snake.”

Jones says people have told her she must be the unluckiest person alive to have a hawk and snake attack at the same time. She says it’s the opposite, “I feel like the luckiest person alive to have survived this!”

This wasn’t even her first encounter with a snake. Jones survived being bitten by a venomous snake a few years back.

In case you are wondering, in true Texas-tough style, Jones has already been back on the tractor. Jones had her husband walk beside her on the first ride back just to keep an eye out overhead. But she thinks she will be fine next time.

May be, may NOT be. Personally, I don’t know that I’d be willing to so much as open the door into the backyard without a full suit of armor on. No, I don’t mean modern body armor, I mean the kind that knights in days of auld used to wear at a joust.


Question asked, question answered

Over at Liberty Daily, we find this amusing link: Let’s Lighten the Mood This Weekend! Are Cats Smarter Than Dogs?

Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy. Having had both cats AND dogs my entire life, I feel I can speak with some authority on this, umm, pressing issue. And the answer is: cats are inarguably, indubitably smarter.

What would make you think so, you ask? Why, merely this: Any and every time I ever had both a cat and a dog at the same time, which has been fairly frequently, I always had to find some way to block off the cat litter box so’s the dog couldn’t get at it; you see, dogs will eat cat shit as if it were filet mignon*. Seeing as how I never once ran across a cat that showed the slightest interest in chowing down on doggie-doo, y’know, that pretty much settles the matter as far as I’m concerned. YMMV, of course and as usual.

*Saves on the hassle and back pain of scooping out the cat box, sure. Then again, it’s another reason why I have NEVER allowed any dog of mine to lick me all over my face the way some dog-owners seem to delight in.


(Big) cats and dogs cows, living together

No, really, y’all. SRSLY.

Can animals trauma bond?
A farmer put a camera because he heard the dogs barking every night, and he saw this.


The leopard comes every night to meet the cow and the cow licks its head.

The man spoke with the previous owner of the cow and found out that the leopard’s mother had died when it was only twenty days old and since then the cow had fed the leopard with her milk. Therefore, the leopard thinks that the cow is her mother and comes every night to see her.

Okay, I gotta admit, even when I saw the pic as I was reading the post, I did NOT see that coming. And once again, Quora Digest proves its worth as my go-to source for wonderful, entertaining, and edumacational blogfodder.

Update! Commenters sez:

Kimberly Chapman—15h
What a mooving story.

J T—6h
I know! Really unherd of!

Heh. Also: groooaaan. Good squishy, that.


My, isn’t this word salad DELICIOUS?

Asked nobody, ever.

‘We Sale Your Bank’: WaPo Reporter Rewrites Disastrous Fetterman Word Salad as a ‘Quote’
To protect the ever brilliant Sen. John Frankenstein — er, Fetterman (D-PA) — a Washington Post reporter rewrote an ineluctable Fetterman ramble and posted it as a quote. Apparently, journalism now means covering up government idiocy by pretending an official is actually coherent.

Fetterman was attempting to question the former CEO of the collapsed Silicon Valley Bank (SVB), Greg Becker. The Washington Post’s White House economics reporter Jeff Stein tweeted, “Sen. @JohnFetterman (D-Pa.) to SVB executive Greg Becker: ‘Shouldn’t you have a working requirement after we bail out your bank? Republicans seem to be more preoccupied with SNAP requirements for hungry people than protecting taxpayers that have to bail out these banks.’” The issue? That’s not really what Fetterman said. Not by a long shot.

As PJ Media’s Paula Bolyard tweeted, the actual quote from Fetterman is quite different, to put it mildly, from what Stein claimed: “Shouldn’t you have a working requirement after we sale [sic] your bank—er, with billions of your bank? Because they see me [sic] pre-preoccupied when then [sic] SNAP, uh, in the requirements for works [sic] for hungry people, but not about protecting the—the tax papers [sic] you know, that will bail no matter [sic] whatever does [sic] about a bank to crash it.”

No, I don’t know what he was trying to say, either. But apparently, Stein thought he understood so well that he could write up what he thought Fetterman meant to say and treat it as a quote.

Well, of course he did; as a fully-credentialed “liberal” “journalist,” it’s simple as do re mi: just insert the standard-issue, Mark 1-Mod 0 D卐M☭CRAT boilerplate, and Urethra! You have found it, as a certain wise, universally respected and beloved sage once put it. Is there more, you ask? Hey, this is Senator Lurch (D-Nuthatch) we’re talking about here, of course there is.

Fetterman rambled like Joe Biden in the White House during the Senate Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs hearing, “Examining the Failures of Silicon Valley Bank and Signature Bank.” The man needs to be in a hospital, not in Congress. It’s a total — and painful — joke that his family and staff keep trying to force him through the motions of being a functioning senator.

”Now they [banks] have — it’s in, a guaranteed, a guaranteed way to be saved,” Fetterman fretted about the government bailout of SVB. “By no — no matter, by — by — by how, you know. So it’s, it’s, you know, isn’t it appropriate that the, these kinds of — this kind of control be more stricter?” Unsurprisingly, his question was met by silence. Then he brought out the above clincher, where he compared Republicans’ proposed employment requirement for accessing SNAP benefits to, presumably, his desire for banks like SVB to “work.” All to save that “tax papers” money.

Isn’t it comforting that our economy is in the hands of bankrupts like Becker and senators like John Fetterman?

Oh no, that’s not so at all; like most Normal Americans, you’re thinking about this all wrong. As has been more than amply demonstrated throughout the Biden “pResidency,” the people who actually DO run things in Amerika v2.0 don’t have faces we’re ever gonna see, names we’re ever gonna hear, and never have to stand for “election” or “reelection.”


The universal language

Okay, I just love the everlovin’ hell out of this one.

Fookin’ brilliant! Especially at the very end, where the clearly-disgruntled FiQ (Feline in Question) has gotten tired of the whole damned thing, making that sleepy, semi-pissed-off, won’t you just leave me the hell ALONE face that every cat-lover on earth knows all too well.



Again, that is, this time from the shitlibs and their preposterously unworkable “Green energy.”

Conservative watchdogs highlight ‘alarming’ surge in whale deaths as wind farms grow off NY, NJ coasts
Conservative watchdog groups ran a guerrilla-style ad campaign on the Jersey Shore for Earth Day, drawing attention to a surge in whale deaths amid the growth of offshore wind farms.

Beachgoers in Atlantic City on Saturday looked on as a single-propeller plane carried a message waving from a banner — “SAVE-WHALES-STOP-WINDMILLS.ORG” — and drivers heading out of town saw a billboard with the same message and a picture of a dead whale washed ashore.

The Committee for a Constructive Tomorrow and the Heartland Institute sponsored the ads to highlight the potential threat that wind turbine development poses to whales, dolphins and other aquatic life.

The campaign comes after a ProPublica report last week found that federal regulators in the Biden administration have downplayed environmental risks to greenlight “an unprecedented expansion for offshore wind” projects — including tax incentives through the president’s Inflation Reduction Act for renewable energy developers.

Pics of the aforementioned ads included at the NYPost link, and they’re truly wonderful. Well done, guys, and good on ya for turning the Left’s own twipe back on ‘em and hosing ‘em down good with it like this.



Among the many, many email list-type things flooding my inbox daily are quite a few from Twatter (since Musk took over and cleaned house I’m gonna have to stop referring to it with such disparaging names), which I haven’t long since relegated to the CF Spamme Trappe because I actually enjoy quite a few of them. Sander from the Netherlands, a/k/a Buitengebieden, would be on the list of Twitterers I like.

HAAA! Good stuff, no? I mean, really now, just look at the grin on that face at the end.

The cute little critter coming home to mama for a perfect three-point landing in her hand is a sugar glider, if I’m not mistaken; being a certified Elly May Clampett-level critter person (DEAD GIVEAWAY ALERT: there’s even a “Critters” category here, has been for a long time), I always did want one of those myself. Can’t recollect ever seeing a snowy-white one before, though. Some info on the li’l beasties, for those who might not know what the hell I’m even talking about here.

The sugar glider (Petaurus breviceps) is a small, omnivorous, arboreal, and nocturnal gliding possum. The common name refers to its predilection for sugary foods such as sap and nectar and its ability to glide through the air, much like a flying squirrel. They have very similar habits and appearance to the flying squirrel, despite not being closely related—an example of convergent evolution. The scientific name, Petaurus breviceps, translates from Latin as “short-headed rope-dancer”, a reference to their canopy acrobatics.

The sugar glider is characterised by its pair of gliding membranes, known as patagia, which extend from its forelegs to its hindlegs. Gliding serves as an efficient means of reaching food and evading predators. The animal is covered in soft, pale grey to light brown fur which is countershaded, being lighter in colour on its underside.

The sugar glider is native to a small portion of southeastern Australia, in the regions of southern Queensland and most of New South Wales east of the Great Dividing Range. Members of Petaurus are popular exotic pets and are frequently also referred to as “sugar gliders”, but these are now thought to likely represent another species from West Papua, tentatively classified in Krefft’s glider.

“Short-headed rope-dancer”—gotta love that, it certainly seems apt enough. Here, have yourself another adorable pic:


Oh oh wait, dang it, that’s Elly May. Sorry ‘bout that, folks…maybe. Here’s the one I meant to put in there.


Heh. Ye Olde Colde Furye Blogge: where the smart set goes for all their “cuteness” needs.

Moar adorable update! Another critter I always wanted, but never did get.

Those are African pygmy hedgehogs, comically enjoying one of their favorite pastimes: tubing, they call it. Too, too funny, and totally cute too. (SIDE NOTE: yes, that’s an old toilet-paper-roll tube they’re playing with; they’re known for keeping that up for hours, walking themselves off of tabletops, falling off chair seats and sofas, repeatedly crashing into walls, you name it)

The trouble with keeping exotic pets like gliders and hedgehogs is that they’re costly to keep and maintain, in all sorts of ways. They usually need a great deal of attention and affection; their dietary requirements can be expensive and, well, exotic, thus tough to fulfill; finding a vet for one outside of major urban areas can be extremely difficult, the visits frequent and expensive. Exotics are susceptible to bizarre, unheard-of diseases, for which treatment is both demanding in terms of effort and ruinously expensive.

All in all, then, not the best choice of pet for someone who travels as much as I used to. Hell, just keeping up with two cats, two dogs, and a freshwater aquarium which I successfully kept going for well over ten years (stocked with two clown loaches, an albino shark, an albino cory cat, and a firebelly newt; the pleco I got for algae-control purposes, a tiny thing at first, I finally gave away to a friend when the ugly bastid grew to just over two feet long) was hard enough, thanks.

The Passion of the Christ—updated with PONIES!!

Some intriguing facts and behind-the-scenes backstory about the movie, from guess where

Mel Gibson warned actor Jim Caviezel that playing the character of Christ was going to be very difficult and that if he accepted, he most likely would be marginalized by Hollywood.

Caviezel asked for a day to think about it and his response to Mel who was funding and directing the movie was: “I think we have to make it, even if it is difficult. And something else, my initials are J.C., and I am 33 years old. “I didn’t realize that until now.”

Mel responded with “You’re really scaring me you know.”

During filming, Jim Caviezel who plays the part of Jesus lost 45 pounds, he was struck by lightning, he was accidentally struck twice during the scourging scene leaving a deep 14-inch scar, he dislocated his shoulder when the cross was dropped into the hole with him on the cross. He then suffered pneumonia and hypothermia from being nearly naked with only a loin cloth on the cross for endless hours. The crucifixion scene alone took 5 weeks of the 2 months of shooting.

His body was so stressed and exhausted from playing the role that he had to undergo two open heart surgeries after the filming production.

Jim explained, “I didn’t want people to see me. I just want them to see Jesus. Conversions will happen through that.”

Almost like a clairvoyant prediction many amazing things happened.

Pedro Sarubbi, who played Barabbas, felt that it was not Caviezel who was looking at him, but Jesus Christ himself, as he played that role he said of Caviezel, “His eyes had no hatred or resentment towards me, only mercy and love.”

Luca Lionello, the artist who played Judas, was an avowed atheist before shooting began. He eventually converted, and baptized his children.

One of the main technicians working on the film was a Muslim converted to Christianity.

Some producers said they saw actors dressed in white they didn’t recognize during one of the filming sessions, and when they reviewed the recordings they realized they couldn’t see them in that footage.

The Passion of the Christ is the highest grossing US religious as well as the highest R-rated film of all time, with $370.8 million! Worldwide, it grossed $611 million.

More importantly, it has reached 100’s of millions of people around the world.

Mel Gibson paid $30 million out of his own pocket for the production of the film because no studio would take on the project.

Never saw the film myself, but I remember the huge controversy generated by it well enough.

Update! Unrelated, but here’s another Quora Digest find. I may have to look into some psychological counseling at some point, to help me cope with this unhealthy addiction to their stuff I’m developing. But this is another good ‘un too, so there’s that.

There is an old pony in a big pen by the barn. He has no real purpose. No kids ride him, he is not a companion to another old horse.

We have no history together. He came into my life by happenstance. There are no fond, warm fuzzy memories. I owe him nothing. But he’s polite and kind, and nickers to me as I come out the door in the morning.

He eats a princely sum of special food, and has a premium round bale of irrigated grass that the other horses can only dream of. His water is fresh, and warmed in the winter. I’ve gone out there late at night to make sure he has food, and he’s the first thing I attend to after morning coffee.

Why? Why not send him to the sale where ‘someone’ will want him? At 40 cents a pound, he’d be worth a nice steak dinner and drinks in town. They’ll load him on a truck with 30 other old ponies and horses, and somewhere down that line, if he doesn’t fall from his bad knee and get trampled in the transport, he will become dog food.

There’s a bum calf in our scale house on this cold frosty night. He’s little and scrawny, with poop stuck to his butt, and a bit of a runny nose. There’s a heater in there keeping the temp above freezing. In the morning I’ll make him a bottle of warm milk replacer and try to convince him to eat some of the pony’s special food. Bob will clean his little house and put down fresh bedding. It would be easier to have left him in the field with the 500 bigger, stronger calves, to steal milk from the occasional tolerant cow, to eventually freeze to death and feed the coyotes that lurk about the herd for just such an opportunity.

There is a wild kitten in the barn who most likely jumped off a utility truck a while back. We’ve been leaving food just for him, and making sure the heated water bowl is full, so he doesn’t have to go outside and perch precariously on the horse waterer to drink.

I guess we sound like saps, the old cowboy and I. Sort of wimpy and un-ranch like.

I guess we are. But at our age, with certain infirmities starting to creep into our daily routines, and the realization that we are not perfect, we are thinking that kindness is a virtue and care is our purpose.

Care of not just the healthy robust animals that make money and pay the bills, but care of everything we are capable of caring for – those creatures that, like us, are in need of a bit more attention to get through the day.

We didn’t go about seeking these creatures- they came to us and landed here not of their own choosing, or ours. But here they are, and off I go to town to a business that provides enough to buy the expensive milk replacer, premium hay, and special pony food.

There may be some karma in all this, or maybe not, but in the end we’ll know we did the best we could for those that needed us.

Peace. Really, I mean it.

And the same to you, ma’am, with all my heart and soul.

Beautiful, no? A lovely, scenic pic of the pony is attached also. Maybe this addiction isn’t so unhealthy after all, I’m thinkin’.


Happy birthday to The Kittens!

So once upon a long ago my daughter had this kitten we got from a girl in my brother’s office whose cat had just had kittens, name of Fearless. As she grew, she of course came into heat for the first time (Fearless, not Madeleine), got herself knocked up straightaway after escaping from strict-but-not-strict-enough quarantine, had her own litter of wee bairns, and successfully brought them to just past the weaning phase.

Then came the terrible, terrible day Fearless escaped from the house as I was leaving for work and immediately ducked under brack’s Mustang, where I couldn’t possibly retrieve her. After several minutes on hands and knees trying to coax her out verbally, I gave up and went on to work, thinking she’d do what she always did when she managed to dart out the door between my legs, which by then she’d gotten pretty good at: climb up on the roof and lie up there in the sun waiting me for to get back, whereupon I would call for her and she would carefully make her way down to the gutter pipe, then leap into my waiting arms to be carried back inside.

Alas, that was not to be on this black, bleak day. Little did I know as I left that it would be the last time I would ever see or speak to Fearless; most likely, she got nabbed by the coyotes with which the area was and is rife, the poor, doomed little thing. I can hardly bear to even think about what an awful fate that would have been for her, it just breaks my heart.

But she did leave behind a wonderful legacy, in the form of the kittens she had given birth to almost exactly nine weeks before. The runt of the five, a sweet grey tabby, was adopted by brack’s sister, where she remains all fat and happy to this day. After weeks of unsuccessfully trying to find good homes for all but two of the others (my original plan had been to keep two of ‘em anyway, at Madeleine’s behest), I finally had to admit defeat and just keep all four of the little critters myself. After getting to know them, no way could I have carted them off to the animal shelter, where they would almost certainly be euthanized in short order. Might as well just shoot me in the head and be done with it, instead.

And it’s all worked out wonderfully in the end, both for them and for me. In fact, I really don’t know what I’d do without my beloved feline companions, I’d be lost without them. During my dreadful ordeal in hospital last year, I worried frantically about the small cohort of four-legged chums which will forevermore be known to Madeleine and me as simply The Kittens, knowing that they would be traumatized by my sudden disappearance from among them.

Now, my then-roomie and lifelong friend brack being a cat-lover of long standing his own self, bless his big, generous heart, I knew he would feed and care for them, no problem. Which was a great comfort to me, the only comfort I had at the time. Even so, for their entire lives I had been Daddy to them, then one day all of a sudden Daddy was gone and didn’t look like ever coming back. How could they NOT be bothered by such a grievous loss? I mean, seriously now, who wouldn’t be?

But in the end all was copacetic, we all got through it and came out the other side okay. The Kittens were born on Easter Sunday four years ago, so in celebration of the auspicious occasion I thought I’d run some pics of them here.

NOTE: The rest of this post I’ll tuck below the fold so as not to slow down main-page loading for those not interested in looking at purty pitchers of incredibly cute aynimules.

Continue reading “Happy birthday to The Kittens!”


Ever wonder why people suck?

Wonder no more.

We were looking at buying a new house several years ago. The house was vacant since the couple was getting divorced and they had both already gotten smaller houses. When we got to the back yard there was an aging yellow labrador retriever that looked to be at least 11–12 years old. The food bowl was empty and the water bowl had been turned over.

We used the water bottles that the kids had and filled her water bowl. She followed us around the backyard. Once we were ready to go back into the house, the dog whined and didn’t want us to leave. She stood on her hind legs and barked over the fence as we drove away as if begging us not to leave her.

We contacted the real estate agent about the dog. She said that the places that the family bought don’t allow dogs and that the dog has been abandoned by the family at the house. I was shocked. My kids didn’t sleep much that night. We went back the next day to see the house again and the food bowl was still empty and the water bowl was empty. We brought the dog food and water and she gobbled it down and drank all the water.

Unlike the prior day, rather than following us around the yard, she hunkered down in a hole she had dug under the house to take shelter. As we were leaving this time, she didn’t come to the fence, she simply had given up. The neighbors from next door came out and said that the family had not been there in days. It would appear that they were starving the dog to death and they were about to call the police.

I called the real estate agent and told them I wouldn’t buy the house if it was the last house on the planet, but I will be taking their dog. If they don’t deliver the dog to me in 24 hours I will call the police. They contacted me and agreed to deliver the dog. We took her to the vet; she was deaf, terribly malnourished, and very sick.

We spent close to $7,000 on helping her get back into shape. She lived with my family for about a year and a half and died at age 14 when she failed to recover from major surgery and had to be put down. She was a fighter until the end even when being put to sleep. She never gave up and we never gave up on her. She was a great dog and my kid’s lives were enriched by saving a great dog. The thing about dogs that are rescued, they always remember they were rescued and have a fierce loyalty and appreciation for it.

Fucking heartless bastards, to just abandon a poor old dog that way when he or she becomes “inconvenient” for them. Another dose of the antidote:

“I adopted your dog today.

The one you left in the shelter.

The one you had for 10 years. That you don’t want to keep him anymore.

I adopted your dog today.

Did you know he lost weight?

Did you know he is terrorized and depressed?

And it seems he has lost all trust?

I adopted your dog today.

He had fleas and suffered from winter.

I guess you don’t care what state he is in?

They told me you left him.

I adopted your dog today.

Did you have a baby or did you move? You have at once

a developed allergy? Or there was no reason,

why couldn’t he stay with you?

I adopted your dog today.

She’s not playing and barely eating.

I think she is very sad and will take time,

before she gets her trust again.

I adopted your dog today.

And here we will love him.

He found his forever family.

And a warm place to relax.

I adopted your dog today.

And I will give him everything: patience, love and safety.

So he can forget your cowardice.“

Peace Ever.

May God forever bless these two angels in human shape, for being willing to step up and set right the mess such perfidious, soul-dead monsters as these always seem to leave in their wake. Yes, there are photos with both posts, and they’re beautiful.

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NOTE: In order to comment, you must be registered and approved as a CF user. Since so many user-registrations are attempted by spam-bots for their own nefarious purposes, YOUR REGISTRATION MAY BE ERRONEOUSLY DENIED.

If you are in fact a legit hooman bean desirous of registering yourself a CF user name so as to be able to comment only to find yourself caught up as collateral damage in one of my irregularly (un)scheduled sweeps for hinky registration attempts, please shoot me a kite at the email addy over in the right sidebar and let me know so’s I can get ya fixed up manually.

ALSO NOTE: You MUST use a valid, legit email address in order to successfully register, the new anti-spam software I installed last night requires it. My thanks to Barry for all his help sorting this mess out last night.

Comments appear entirely at the whim of the guy who pays the bills for this site and may be deleted, ridiculed, maliciously edited for purposes of mockery, or otherwise pissed over as he in his capricious fancy sees fit. The CF comments section is pretty free-form and rough and tumble; tolerance level for rowdiness and misbehavior is fairly high here, but is NOT without limit.

Management is under no obligation whatever to allow the comments section to be taken over and ruined by trolls, Leftists, and/or other oxygen thieves, and will take any measures deemed necessary to prevent such. Conduct yourself with the merest modicum of decorum, courtesy, and respect and you'll be fine. Pick pointless squabbles with other commenters, fling provocative personal insults, issue threats, or annoy the host (me) won't.

Should you find yourself sanctioned after running afoul of the CF comments policy as stated and feel you have been wronged, please download and complete the Butthurt Report form below in quadruplicate; retain one copy for your personal records and send the others to the email address posted in the right sidebar.

Please refrain from whining, sniveling, and/or bursting into tears and waving your chubby fists around in frustrated rage, lest you suffer an aneurysm or stroke unnecessarily. Your completed form will be reviewed and your complaint addressed whenever management feels like getting around to it. Thank you.

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Notable Quotes

"America is at that awkward stage. It's too late to work within the system, but too early to shoot the bastards."
Claire Wolfe, 101 Things to Do 'Til the Revolution

Claire's Cabal—The Freedom Forums


"There are men in all ages who mean to govern well, but they mean to govern. They promise to be good masters, but they mean to be masters."
Daniel Webster

“When I was young I was depressed all the time. But suicide no longer seemed a possibility in my life. At my age there was very little left to kill.”
Charles Bukowski

“A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him.”
Ezra Pound

“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it’s profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.”
Frank Zappa

“The right of a nation to kill a tyrant in case of necessity can no more be doubted than to hang a robber, or kill a flea.”
John Adams

"A society of sheep must in time beget a government of wolves."
Bertrand de Jouvenel

"It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged."
GK Chesterton

"I predict that the Bush administration will be seen by freedom-wishing Americans a generation or two hence as the hinge on the cell door locking up our freedom. When my children are my age, they will not be free in any recognizably traditional American meaning of the word. I’d tell them to emigrate, but there’s nowhere left to go. I am left with nauseating near-conviction that I am a member of the last generation in the history of the world that is minimally truly free."
Donald Surber

"The only way to live free is to live unobserved."
Etienne de la Boiete

"History does not long entrust the care of freedom to the weak or the timid."
Dwight D. Eisenhower

"To put it simply, the Left is the stupid and the insane, led by the evil. You can’t persuade the stupid or the insane and you had damn well better fight the evil."

"There is no better way to stamp your power on people than through the dead hand of bureaucracy. You cannot reason with paperwork."
David Black, from Turn Left For Gibraltar

"If the laws of God and men, are therefore of no effect, when the magistracy is left at liberty to break them; and if the lusts of those who are too strong for the tribunals of justice, cannot be otherwise restrained than by sedition, tumults and war, those seditions, tumults and wars, are justified by the laws of God and man."
John Adams

"The limits of tyranny are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress."
Frederick Douglass

"Give me the media and I will make of any nation a herd of swine."
Joseph Goebbels

“I hope we once again have reminded people that man is not free unless government is limited. There’s a clear cause and effect here that is as neat and predictable as a law of physics: As government expands, liberty contracts.”
Ronald Reagan

"Ain't no misunderstanding this war. They want to rule us and aim to do it. We aim not to allow it. All there is to it."
NC Reed, from Parno's Peril

"I just want a government that fits in the box it originally came in."
Bill Whittle

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