My Monday morning mystery

Alliteration just never gets old for me.

Before my caffeine fully kicked in this morning, I walked into my office and was immediately hit with two issues. First, I noticed a note left on my keyboard. I got an adrenaline rush before I even read the note, because a handwritten note usually indicates that a user was desperate to find me, which usually means that something vital isn’t working right.

I then turned to toss my coat over my guest chair--its usual spot—and saw that the chair was gone! I wandered over to Sandra’s next door, thinking it would be there, as she frequently borrows it for meetings with her users. It wasn’t there. She borrowed it Friday, but her user returned it, as she always does. Nobody had seen my chair. This may seem really unimportant, but guest chairs are like gold, and I wasn’t about to lose mine, as I wouldn’t get another very easily or quickly. I work for the state, where resources are limited and budgets to acquire new resources are even more limited (non-existent really).

I sent out a department-wide e-mail asking for the return of my chair. After about 20 minutes of no replies, I started to mourn the loss. I reflected on all the good times we had together. The way it held my coat because I was too lazy to actually hang it on my hook; The way the stains on the seat form interesting designs; The way my users plop down in it to ask me to do one more thing I don’t have time for; Yep, it’s a special chair. A few minutes later, a co-worker walked it back over. He found it in his cube this morning, and didn’t know where it came from. The earth has now resumed its rotation and life can continue, because my crappy, cream-colored guest chair is returned to its loving home.

Bullet number three hit during that time frame as well. An e-mail popped into my box stating that the people who adopted my twin grandkitties were moving and decided they didn’t want to keep the boys anymore. As per our contract, the kittens would return to me in that situation. I immediately replied that I would get the kittens as soon as they would like me to. I will most likely be picking them up later this week, so I have a few days to decide what the hell to do with them. The most gut wrenching bit of news, though, was that they’ve both been front declawed. WTF!!! My poor babies were disfigured for life, and there is nothing I can do to restore their missing “fingers”. They are stuck for the rest of their lives with a shadow of what their lives were supposed to be. I am beyond furious that these people violated my kitties and then just dumped them at the first inconvenience.

Unfortunately, this is fairly typical of “pet owners”. They make me sick. I hope, at some point when they are helpless and dependent on others, they are treated with the same care and compassion they’ve shown the kittens. They’ve set a fine example for their children about how to treat others when they become inconvenient. Here’s hoping their crotch spawn ends up with better values than their parents are teaching them—except when it comes to picking out their parents’ old age residence and care.

I want to be very clear here. There is simply no excuse to dump an animal. Ever. The only exception that we’ve encountered and completely understand is when the animals’ caretaker dies or enters long-term hospital care. If you are/have dumped an animal for any other reason, please understand that I think you are despicable trash and are wasting valuable space and resources that others, much better than you, could be using. If I’m remotely nice/polite to you, it is simply to ensure that I get the animal away from you. I couldn’t give a shit about your feelings, your excuses, and I have no intention of relieving you of that twinge of underdeveloped guilt you feel. I have made a permanent assessment of the quality of your character, and nothing from that point forward will ever change it. I may continue to hide my feelings for a variety of other reasons (none of them having to do with you or your atrophied feelings). Nothing will ever change my decision about you. So save your little bullshit lines that you try to toss out at me while I take the animal, who's already been through way more than and survived much tougher than you ever have or will (because those are always the animals that I work with). I will take that animal and love it through the terror and grief it experiences when it loses another family and home due to no fault of their own. I will try to resolve the behavioral issues that are introduced after yet another dump and traumatic change. I will try to reaffirm to them that there are indeed a few humans who are worthy of their unconditional love, though you are most certainly not one of them.

Oh, but it’s okay if the animal is going potty in your house, you say. There are 10,000 different solutions for resolving potty issues. Get off your ass, turn off the computer games or tv, and in about 10 minutes you can find those solutions. Try them. Keep trying them. It’s not rocket science. It just takes consistency, a little understanding of how the animal thinks, and a little effort. I’m not even going to waste time enumerating the many possible solutions to this problem. You don’t have the time to spend with them and it’s not fair? Oh, right, you made a bad decision and can’t manage your time, so an animal pays. Their oh so much better going through the trauma of being dumped again. Make time, use doggy daycare, get your animal a friend, look into cooperative pet-sharing arrangements, hire a dog walker or a neighborhood kid to come over and play with it. Again, 10,000 different solutions. Make an effort and find one.

My personal favorite: you’ve had a new baby or feel the animal is a threat to your child(ren). Learn how to fucking parent. Learn how to manage animals. If you are not bright, consistent, or compassionate enough to work through a solution without dumping family members, you shouldn’t be leaving crotch droppings around that will end up being a detriment to society. The rest of society doesn’t want to have to deal with your poorly-raised little precious(es). My children have been exposed to every possible personality of so many different species. Some of these animals are feral and red zone animals. My children have each been bitten one time. In both cases, they knew immediately it was their own fault, because they knew exactly what the animal was trying to communicate with them but chose to ignore it. They were never bitten by those or any other animal again. Unless the children are retarded, they are perfectly able to learn to speak and understand the language of any species with which they spend time. They are much better at it than adults. Instead of using it as a teaching opportunity, you take the easy way out and communicate very clearly to your children where you stand with unconditional love (you don’t get it and because of that, they probably won’t either). I have never placed an animal that hasn’t been thoroughly tested and proven with children. It’s not the animal, it’s you. You’re unqualified to raise an animal, and you’re unqualified to raise your children. Get off your lazy ass and parent! Kids are work. Animals are work. Both are a lifelong commitment--at least they are for those of us with honor and decency. Don't have either one if you aren't capable of that kind of commitment.

I’m bored of typing now, though this list could go on for pages and pages. I’m done with the topic today. I do need to add, though, that before you get too excited and decide that I’m out of touch with the economic situation in our area…I am aware of people losing their jobs/homes and being unable to care for their animals. That’s a fairly easy fix in most cases, and one that we’ve handled extensively. I am supporting and maintaining several animals (and my friends are doing the same) who live with their families who cannot afford them. If they love them and provide a good home, we find ways to deal with the financial side. Additionally, we have had several short-term fosters—kept and cared for lovingly while the humans work on another living arrangement, and returned to their loving homes as soon as the situation is resolved. The financial situations are the least of our worries (and having said that, none of us is anywhere close to being wealthy)!

So here's the picture L brought home from church with her grandparents Sunday morning. I'm so proud that my anti-violence little vegan girl took the time to draw the blood on the sword (with the little puddle underneath) and the arrow coming in from the upper right. She used some snazzy metallic gel pens to color it in. I'm a little unclear as to what the hell they would talk about in Sunday school that involves armoured knights.