You remember those horses I called dispatch on THREE times to no aid whatsoever? Well, they're still thin as shit. The morning after I got home from work and the one was STILL tied up on the side of the road, I wrote a note and tied it to their gate. It was very polite, since while I bet they can guess, there's no way for them to know I was the one calling the po-po's out to look at the ribs on their equines.
It went something along the lines of Hey. Saw your horse on the side of the road. If you need any help with food/care drop me a line, (email address). Polite, right? Didn't chew them out, didn't do anything but offer a hand.
If they knew it was me, it's probably because I'm the only one out there feeding the poor horses baby carrots each morning when they come up to the fence to see me and search my pockets for treats.
The horses, not the people.
My neighbors do not search my pockets for treats.
Anyways, I came home the next day to find...
A pile of horse shit in my yard! An actual pile of horse shit. WITH horse hoof prints. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have left the gate open, but I was actually expecting a different delivery that day! One of a less poopy variety.
I have no idea if they tied their horse in my yard while I was out or if he just broke loose from his (oh-so-sturdy) rope tied to a TINY LIMB ON A BUSH and came grazing, but at least I don't have to mow in that spot.
I wanna be mad...but anything that puts food in that horse's belly is good by me.
-Mouse
Showing posts with label Horses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Horses. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
What the Fuck.
Well, third time to call dispatch on those emaciated horses, and this time they wouldn't even send out a deputy. It's getting cold here, and they've only had hay once since May.
SINCE MAY.
Tonight, one of them was tied to god knows fucking what, ONE of the fucking trees on the side of the road, barely able to move from how short the rope was (maybe two body lengths, tops), sporting new injuries of course, and eating so fast you couldn't have stopped him if you'd accidentally hit him. Dispatch: "He's just lawnmowing. We can't send someone out for that. He's fine." Um...after dark? For hours? Unsupervised? On the side of the road. Tripping over the rope tied to his rope halter each time he tries to turn around and find more grass and weeds.
Fuck you.
I'm just...you know what...I can't write anymore about this tonight. I'm sorry so glum lately, but I've had my hands so full with wedding shit, working seven nights a week, and volunteer firefighting that I have barely been able to help with animal shit at all. I feel like I'm letting them down. You don't take a "break" from animal rescue. When you live around the shit I live around, it's a part of you, and a part of your life. You HAVE to care, you HAVE to help. It pulls you apart.
Here, in case you wanted to be just a little more pissed off at people tonight, have an actual conversation at a rescue event recently:
"how much is it to buy a dog?"
"to adopt, you mean? $150"
"shiiiit. i wouldn't spend no $150 on a dog. I've never spent $150 on a DOG."
"they come with everything done - fixed, shots, microchipping, everything."
"FIXED, why would you want to buy a dog who was already fixed?"
Ayup. That happened.
-Mouse
SINCE MAY.
Tonight, one of them was tied to god knows fucking what, ONE of the fucking trees on the side of the road, barely able to move from how short the rope was (maybe two body lengths, tops), sporting new injuries of course, and eating so fast you couldn't have stopped him if you'd accidentally hit him. Dispatch: "He's just lawnmowing. We can't send someone out for that. He's fine." Um...after dark? For hours? Unsupervised? On the side of the road. Tripping over the rope tied to his rope halter each time he tries to turn around and find more grass and weeds.
Fuck you.
I'm just...you know what...I can't write anymore about this tonight. I'm sorry so glum lately, but I've had my hands so full with wedding shit, working seven nights a week, and volunteer firefighting that I have barely been able to help with animal shit at all. I feel like I'm letting them down. You don't take a "break" from animal rescue. When you live around the shit I live around, it's a part of you, and a part of your life. You HAVE to care, you HAVE to help. It pulls you apart.
Here, in case you wanted to be just a little more pissed off at people tonight, have an actual conversation at a rescue event recently:
"how much is it to buy a dog?"
"to adopt, you mean? $150"
"shiiiit. i wouldn't spend no $150 on a dog. I've never spent $150 on a DOG."
"they come with everything done - fixed, shots, microchipping, everything."
"FIXED, why would you want to buy a dog who was already fixed?"
Ayup. That happened.
-Mouse
Thursday, August 25, 2011
More Sadness, but There Are Kittens.
The six kittens we took from the home with the cats we were fixing for free came home with us, and that very day, were on the verge of death. All of them had faces sealed shut with eye goo. I made an appointment, and in the three hours it took to get them there, they had developed fevers and were extremely lethargic. I honestly thought they were all going to die, and so did the vet.
He gave them SQ fluids, which they HATED, and clavamox. He says he's thinking an immune deficiency disease, like feleuk, but I've seen this plenty before and I can bet you $100 it's rhino or calici. My own cat had rhino when she was a kitten, and it took us a year before we figured out why she had developed such horrible fevers as a kitten (so bad she couldn't walk without being in pain), and since she grew up she would periodically get majorly snotty. I wanna say the kittens have rhino, but they are in such strong quarantine (exit only by window, change clothes on entering, separate air system, betadine scrubs before going in or out, and about five showers a day, easy) and it developed so very quickly (plus all of their siblings out of three huge litters had already died), it could very well be something else. Still thinking rhino or calici. At least I know I didn't expose them to it, as was my initial terror.
I've gotten pretty good at quarantine, though. Since their vet visit the babies have really perked up. I learned a new trick, too - if you can't get stubborn, solidified, serious eye bogies out, try rubbing neosporin or other oil-based antibiotic ointment into them. It dissolves right out and they clean it away. I think we managed to avoid tear duct damage in all six!
They have names now, too. Freddy is the biggest and definitely a boy. He was originally named Fraidy because he was practically feral, but he adjusted quickly and now ALL he wants to do is snuggle, cuddle, and purr. He's from a separate litter from everyone else, and at least 2 weeks older, despite what coked-out-bitch insisted. The Kitty System is a seal point siamese, the next biggest, and also from a separate litter. He is the trouble-maker! If there's a wrestling match, you can bet KS was involved and probably started it! Pickles is the next biggest trouble-maker, getting into pickles every play time. He's grey and white spotted. Traveller is a grey, white-socked well...traveller! He goes where no kitten has gone before, and exploring is his thing (and so is talking, oh my goodness). Dove looks just like Traveller but runted. Dove is the only one I'm still a little worried about, but she's doin' her darndest to keep up with the big kids. :) Last is Cowbell. Cowbell is sweet enough to easily medicate, love on, snuggle with, and catch, but balances his people skills perfectly with that classic kitten playfulness.
I'll post photos as they grow up - right now it's still all very hush-hush.
Meanwhile, down the street from me, I finally managed to get some photos of a trio of horses I've been concerned about. There's not enough info right now, and they aren't on death's doorstep, so no one will do anything about it. Yet. Photos are the first step, though. Click on any of the pictures to enlarge them.
And right across the street from them is this poor little guy and his loose-running yippy chihuahua:
He stays chained like that all day every day, and crawls under the tractor when the weather is harsh. That would be extremely illegal. But, you have to go about these things carefully, or the animal winds up dead, "lost," or tossed in the high-kill shelter to be killed anyways.
NEVER. CHAIN. YOUR DOG. TO A FUCKING TREE.
-Mouse
He gave them SQ fluids, which they HATED, and clavamox. He says he's thinking an immune deficiency disease, like feleuk, but I've seen this plenty before and I can bet you $100 it's rhino or calici. My own cat had rhino when she was a kitten, and it took us a year before we figured out why she had developed such horrible fevers as a kitten (so bad she couldn't walk without being in pain), and since she grew up she would periodically get majorly snotty. I wanna say the kittens have rhino, but they are in such strong quarantine (exit only by window, change clothes on entering, separate air system, betadine scrubs before going in or out, and about five showers a day, easy) and it developed so very quickly (plus all of their siblings out of three huge litters had already died), it could very well be something else. Still thinking rhino or calici. At least I know I didn't expose them to it, as was my initial terror.
I've gotten pretty good at quarantine, though. Since their vet visit the babies have really perked up. I learned a new trick, too - if you can't get stubborn, solidified, serious eye bogies out, try rubbing neosporin or other oil-based antibiotic ointment into them. It dissolves right out and they clean it away. I think we managed to avoid tear duct damage in all six!
They have names now, too. Freddy is the biggest and definitely a boy. He was originally named Fraidy because he was practically feral, but he adjusted quickly and now ALL he wants to do is snuggle, cuddle, and purr. He's from a separate litter from everyone else, and at least 2 weeks older, despite what coked-out-bitch insisted. The Kitty System is a seal point siamese, the next biggest, and also from a separate litter. He is the trouble-maker! If there's a wrestling match, you can bet KS was involved and probably started it! Pickles is the next biggest trouble-maker, getting into pickles every play time. He's grey and white spotted. Traveller is a grey, white-socked well...traveller! He goes where no kitten has gone before, and exploring is his thing (and so is talking, oh my goodness). Dove looks just like Traveller but runted. Dove is the only one I'm still a little worried about, but she's doin' her darndest to keep up with the big kids. :) Last is Cowbell. Cowbell is sweet enough to easily medicate, love on, snuggle with, and catch, but balances his people skills perfectly with that classic kitten playfulness.
I'll post photos as they grow up - right now it's still all very hush-hush.
Meanwhile, down the street from me, I finally managed to get some photos of a trio of horses I've been concerned about. There's not enough info right now, and they aren't on death's doorstep, so no one will do anything about it. Yet. Photos are the first step, though. Click on any of the pictures to enlarge them.
 |
| Yeah...that's totally a ball of wire and debris fucking everywhere. |
And right across the street from them is this poor little guy and his loose-running yippy chihuahua:
He stays chained like that all day every day, and crawls under the tractor when the weather is harsh. That would be extremely illegal. But, you have to go about these things carefully, or the animal winds up dead, "lost," or tossed in the high-kill shelter to be killed anyways.
NEVER. CHAIN. YOUR DOG. TO A FUCKING TREE.
-Mouse
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Adopting Because It's Sad.
Don’t fucking do it.
52 horses need saved! They’re going to slaughter! Oh NOOOO! They’re free, get them out now! MOST of them are gelded. MOST of them are broken. Some of them are with foal.
Yeah, it’s fucking tragic, but you know what this tells me? It tells me they were neglected before their previous owner passed away. It tells me each horse is going to need extensive veterinary care and rehabilitation. It tells me the previous owner wasn’t gelding them, wasn’t getting 52 horses fed and trimmed. It tells me they’re basically a feral herd.
But what it tells YOU is that YOU have to swoop in and stop this tragedy of killing them now now now now now, even if you don’t have the money to get your fucking dogs rabies vaccinations.
And what it tells YOU is that even though you have two kids to feed and a dog with zero vet visits, and no money to come to my damned wedding, that this sad, sad story with its zero details or history or vet papers tugs on your heartstrings enough to jump into something that will cost thousands of dollars and months of hard work. You CAN’T. It will suffer more.
And what it tells YOU is that “horse slaughter bad, mmkay,” so no horses can die, ever, even though there are NO SLAUGHTER HOUSES HERE. Trigger word, and you’re preaching about morals.
What every fucking one of you is forgetting is that you don’t have the whole fucking story. You don’t know where they came from, why they’re in this condition, WHAT condition they are in, who needs massive amounts of vet care and rehabilitation. Shit, you don’t even know if this is a legal issue that should be prosecuted. YOU DON’T KNOW. You just see a sad story and want to make it better. BUT YOU CAN’T.
You can not save them all. If you want to, GO VISIT THEM. Take a tally of the horses and their conditions. Bring a vet. Talk to the survivor who wants to slaughter them and the “friend” who wants to adopt them out for free. Find out who is with foal, who needs gelded, look at the hooves, the teeth, the ribs. Go do the goddamned work and participate. Make profiles on the 52 horses with photographs, and look for real adopters. Adopters who have the money for vet care and the facilities already set up. Adopters who know what they are doing, who aren’t going to turn around and sell them for profit on fucking Craigslist. Adopters who aren’t going to realize they can’t afford to feed it and either let it die, “set it free,” or sell it to auction. Adopters who actually give a fuck and aren’t acting on just emotion.
THEN. Coordinate with state-wide rescues, organizations, and fosters who can give them longer to bounce back and be better for adopting.
You mean well. But you’re thinking with your heart, and not about the animals.
-Mouse
52 horses need saved! They’re going to slaughter! Oh NOOOO! They’re free, get them out now! MOST of them are gelded. MOST of them are broken. Some of them are with foal.
Yeah, it’s fucking tragic, but you know what this tells me? It tells me they were neglected before their previous owner passed away. It tells me each horse is going to need extensive veterinary care and rehabilitation. It tells me the previous owner wasn’t gelding them, wasn’t getting 52 horses fed and trimmed. It tells me they’re basically a feral herd.
But what it tells YOU is that YOU have to swoop in and stop this tragedy of killing them now now now now now, even if you don’t have the money to get your fucking dogs rabies vaccinations.
And what it tells YOU is that even though you have two kids to feed and a dog with zero vet visits, and no money to come to my damned wedding, that this sad, sad story with its zero details or history or vet papers tugs on your heartstrings enough to jump into something that will cost thousands of dollars and months of hard work. You CAN’T. It will suffer more.
And what it tells YOU is that “horse slaughter bad, mmkay,” so no horses can die, ever, even though there are NO SLAUGHTER HOUSES HERE. Trigger word, and you’re preaching about morals.
What every fucking one of you is forgetting is that you don’t have the whole fucking story. You don’t know where they came from, why they’re in this condition, WHAT condition they are in, who needs massive amounts of vet care and rehabilitation. Shit, you don’t even know if this is a legal issue that should be prosecuted. YOU DON’T KNOW. You just see a sad story and want to make it better. BUT YOU CAN’T.
You can not save them all. If you want to, GO VISIT THEM. Take a tally of the horses and their conditions. Bring a vet. Talk to the survivor who wants to slaughter them and the “friend” who wants to adopt them out for free. Find out who is with foal, who needs gelded, look at the hooves, the teeth, the ribs. Go do the goddamned work and participate. Make profiles on the 52 horses with photographs, and look for real adopters. Adopters who have the money for vet care and the facilities already set up. Adopters who know what they are doing, who aren’t going to turn around and sell them for profit on fucking Craigslist. Adopters who aren’t going to realize they can’t afford to feed it and either let it die, “set it free,” or sell it to auction. Adopters who actually give a fuck and aren’t acting on just emotion.
THEN. Coordinate with state-wide rescues, organizations, and fosters who can give them longer to bounce back and be better for adopting.
You mean well. But you’re thinking with your heart, and not about the animals.
-Mouse
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