Southeast Georgia: Animal Hell… Animal Hope?

Someone in Florida asked me something the other day along the lines of ‘Is the situation with animals in your part of Georgia really as bad as it seems from your facebook posts?’ Sadly, yes. Yes, it is. In fact, it’s probably worse. Animal Control services in this area are limited or non-existent (depending on the county), shelters and rescues are overwhelmed, and one has to drive an hour or more to access low-cost spay/neuter clinics. But the real problem, in my opinion, is the culture. My mom was speaking to some sheriff’s deputies the other day about this and they said ‘We’ve got a real dog problem around here.’ Her response was ‘No. We’ve got a people problem around here.’ And it’s true.

In early December my mom emailed me about a disabled dog that had appeared in her yard (its back legs were paralyzed, although it could drag itself about with its front legs). She called local Animal Control and was told that they had already been called out because of this dog and had spoken to its owner. They said they would come out later that day and talk to the owner again. They told my mom where the dog lived and she took it home. The ‘owner’ told my mom that the dog had been abandoned with her by someone who was now refusing to take responsibility for it. The dog appeared in my mom’s yard the following week and she again returned it to its ‘owner.’ On December 19^th, I found the dog sitting in the middle of the road about half a block from where I knew it lived, and I carried it back to its ‘home.’ The poor thing was sweet as can be, but had absolutely no use of its hind legs, and had raw spots on the back legs from where they dragged the ground.

I went back with my camera… the ‘owner’ came out shouting at me about how I needed to get the hell off her property right then because I was trespassing (I was outside her fence on the public right-of-way). My response was that she needed to do something about the dog because keeping it like that was inhumane. She told me the same story she had told my mom about the dog being abandoned with her, and said that she had no money for vet care, or a wheelchair for the dog, or even to have it euthanized. I offered to take it and have it euthanized, saying that I would pay for it. She hemmed and hawed and said she didn’t want to do that because it was such a sweet dog. I offered to share its picture on facebook with my animal rescue connections, and she agreed.

I shared the dog’s pictures on facebook with the following caption: This dog was abandoned at the home of one of my mom's neighbors, and her owner refuses to take responsibility for it. My mom's neighbor is broke and unemployed and while she is feeding this dog, she can't afford any vet care. The dog is elderly (in her teens) and has lost all use of her back legs and has no muscles in her back end, so it is atrophied as a result. She drags herself around, and has rubbed her back feet raw doing so. Mom's neighbor does not want her euthanized (I offered to pay if she did). Local Animal Control is aware of this and have been out several times. Mom's neighbor doesn't want it to be taken by local animal control because she knows it will be euthanized. This dog is incredibly sweet, and really needs a loving home where she can live out her final days with quality care. Unfortunately, neither my mom nor I are able to take her. CAN SOMEONE HELP???? At the very least, please share this album. Thank you.

Notice how I didn’t mention anything about how the dog was always out in the street or in neighbors’ yards, or about the woman’s confrontational attitude. I didn’t even mention her name. Well, this being a small town, one of my friends is one of her facebook friends, so she saw the post. And totally flipped her lid. Here I was trying to help her, and her response was to post on my friend’s thread about what a liar I was and how I had never offered to help her and how she did really want to have the dog euthanized, but didn’t have the money. (In my opinion, if you have the money to chain smoke your way through a 30 minute conversation, you have the money to pay for euthanasia.) She then sent me two incredibly nasty facebook messages calling me a liar and a bitch, accusing me of slander, and threatening to have me arrested if I trespassed on her property (*cough* public right-of-way *cough*) again, and sent an equally nasty facebook message to my mom. The messages did, however, say that she would have the dog euthanized the next day.

We saw it on December 26th, nearly a full week later, sitting in a different neighbor’s yard.

It’s not an animal problem; it’s a people problem.

On December 23rd, as I was driving from my house to my mom’s, I saw a sad, skinny puppy sitting in the middle of the road in the rain. I pulled up next to it, and got out. It shrank away from me in terror. I coaxed him over to me and picked him up, and he clung to me. I went to three houses in the neighborhood. One house said they thought the puppy lived at a place down the road. I went to said house to be told no, it wasn’t theirs, but they’d seen it around the past couple of days. I went to the place across from them; no, it wasn’t theirs. They’d called Animal Control, but no one had come out. I took him home.

Loki at his first trip to the vet.

Loki in my room

I took him to the vet, got him his shots, had him de-wormed, got him some antibiotics for the infected cut on his rump, and posted pictures of him on facebook. Through the modern miracle of social networking, I was able to arrange for him to be adopted by my uncle’s ex-wife, a woman I had not had any contact with since I was an infant. Sometimes people can be the solution, if only they are willing to try.

Christmas morning as my mom and I were driving back from feeding the horses (meaning that we were out in the country), I spotted a Budwiser box on its side, with puppies huddled in a pile in the weeds in front of it. We stopped and went back. Yep, they’d been dumped. Five skinny little puppies, about six weeks old, dumped on the side of the road in a Budwiswer box on Christmas morning. This isn’t a dog problem; this is a people problem.

The five puppies when we first got them home.
I’ve mentioned before that my mom is 69 years old, lives alone, works full time (as a teacher, so she does NOT have a lot of money), and already has a ton of animals (two horses, eight dogs, and about 25 cats – all rescues, all fixed, all vetted). The addition of one puppy to the mix was stressful but doable. Five was not really feasible at all, but we couldn’t just leave them there. I posted a quick picture on facebook with a short, panicked rant about our situation. By that evening a local rescue (BARC) had contacted me with an offer of assistance. They offered to pay for vet care and to try and find foster homes for the puppies. Within three days, the puppies had gotten their first shots and had been wormed (and boy did they need that wormer, wow), and four of them had been placed in foster homes. And puppy number five? My dad had seen her picture and decided to adopt her. (If you're interested in adopting one, please contact BARC.)

The puppies after 3 days in our care

The puppy my dad is adopting

People can be the solution. My mom and I could’ve just driven past those puppies. Between the worms, the lack of food, and the cold, wet weather, and their proximity to the road, they would probably be dead by now. But we didn’t drive by. Instead, they’re healthy, cared for, and on their way to having loving, permanent homes.

People can be the solution, but right now those of us who are part of the solution are hopelessly outnumbered. Just take a look at some of the animals found by local area rescues in the same time period during which I was dealing with six puppies and a paralyzed dog:

This one was abandoned at a loca apartment complex. Apparently its jaw had broken and had never been set, so it ‘healed’ like this. (From here.)

This is one of three Great Danes surrendered by a backyard breeder who decided she didn’t want them anymore. They had apparently never been to a vet before. (From here.)

This one was rescued from a local Animal Control facility. (From here.)

Another starving stray found on the side of the road. (From here.)

This poor injured cat had been dumped in this condition in a convenience store parking lot. It had to be euthanized, but at least it is no longer suffering. (From here.)

And that’s just a sample of what went on down here in just ONE WEEK.

There are some wonderful people (such as the ones working with the animals posted above) who are working their tails off trying to help as many animals down here as they can… but they can only do so much against the tide of indifference and cruelty that animals down here face. If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. If you drive past the starving or injured animal you see on the side of the road and do nothing, you are part of the problem. If you do not get your animal spayed or neutered (for ANY reason), you are part of the problem. If you abandon an animal (for ANY reason), you are a part of the problem. If you have an injured animal and refuse to pay for vet care while spending money on cigarettes, you are part of the problem.

How can you become part of the solution?

Don’t just drive by abandoned/injured animals. If you can take them in – even temporarily – do so. With modern social networking technologies, you may very well be able to find homes for them among friends, family, and acquaintances, or you may find an animal rescue willing to take them. Another option is to set up an appointment to bring them to a local animal control facility. If the animal is severely injured, $35 will end its suffering. That’s how much it costs to euthanize an animal at my vet. I hate to see an animal die, but it’s even worse leaving it to die a slow and painful death on its own. If you cannot pick up the animal (and I do understand that it is not always possible, although keep in mind there is a difference between ‘impossible’ and ‘inconvenient’), call local animal control. (Keep in mind that in many areas – such as southeast GA – animal control facilities, shelters, and rescues are limited in size and funding and tend to be overloaded. Rely on them as a last resort.) If there is no animal control in your area (or even if there is), use your phone, take a picture of the animal, and share its information on facebook. Provide local and nationwide rescue organizations with the animal’s location and picture; spread the word amongst your family and friends that there's an animal in need of help.

Support local animal shelters, rescues, and humane societies. A while back I wrote a really long post about how to donate and support local shelters wisely, click here to read it. (Don’t just give money blindly; do your research and make sure you’re supporting an organization that will make good use of your money. You can also support local shelters, rescues, and humane societies by volunteering your time, either at their facilities, as a foster, as a fund-raiser, as a webmaster, as a photographer, and so on.) Do not donate to the Humane Society of the United States; donate locally to ensure that your money goes to the animals that need it.

SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR PETS. I cannot stress this enough. If you can’t afford the surgery at your local vet clinic, do a google search for low cost spay/neuter services in your area. Even if the closest service is an hour or so away (as it is here), it is much cheaper to make the drive than to deal with the expense of puppies or kittens later on. In some areas there may also be local services that provide transport for the animals to low/cost clinics for those folks who can’t take the day off work to make the drive. Even if you’re keeping your animal inside at all times and it is not around animals of the opposite sex, you should still get it fixed. I love cats and dogs…. but cats in heat are loud, obnoxious, and pee on everything. Dogs in heat bleed. Intact male dogs and cats spray EVERYTHING. Get your pet fixed, and you won’t have to deal with these problems! Not to mention that if something happens and your ‘indoor only’ pet gets out… Well, you can figure out what happens! I’ve heard a lot of people say, ‘Well, he can’t get pregnant, so I’m not going to waste the money.’ True, he can’t get pregnant, but how do you think all the female cats and dogs get knocked up? If you’re not getting your male dog or cat fixed because he can’t get pregnant, you’re part of the problem.

A spay/neuter message for Game of Thrones fans :-)

And for the love of god, do not abandon your animals.

If you are in Southeast Georgia, I highly recommend the Brantley Animal Rescue Coalition (BARC) as a wonderful organization to support, whether via donation or through fostering or other services. If you need to get a pet spayed or neutered, The Humane Society of South Coastal Georgia in Brunswick, GA and No More Homeless Pets in Jacksonville, FL offer low-cost spay/neuter/vaccine services, and the River City Animal Hospital  of Jacksonville, FL provides a mobile spay/neuter/vaccine clinic which serves northeast Florida and southeast Georgia. If you are in or near Waycross, this lovely lady can help to arrange transport for your animals to the nearest low-cost spay/neuter clinics.

And to leave this post on a high note, here’s an absolutely hilarious picture of Mochi playing with the puppy that will soon be living in Clearwater, FL with my uncle’s ex-wife: 

here we go again. (UPDATED)

My mother has been doing animal rescue for years. Back when she and I were living in the same town (2009), I set up a website and facebook page for her animals, hoping that we could get more animals adopted and maybe even get some donations. We got few of either. What we did get were TONS of people calling and emailing, asking us to take their cats (and occasionally their dogs). We were rapidly maxed out, both space-wise, and money-wise. For the past year, I've had a huge banner across the top of her website, which states "We are currently FULL and CANNOT accept any more animals at this time" in huge red letters. Nonetheless, people have continued to call and email my mom, asking her to take their animals.

And it's usually THEIR animals.

Or a stray animal that they took in months or years ago, and have now decided that they can't keep.

Or the new boyfriend is allergic.

Or the wife is pregnant.

Or it has fleas. (Really. One of her coworkers tried to convince her to take his cats because he couldn't get rid of their fleas.)

Or they're moving. (Oh please. I brought mine home with me from KOREA. Don't even give me that.)

Or it has some medical problem and they can't afford to take care of it.

Or.... or.... or.... We've heard so many excuses.

Most people - despite having ignored the message about how she wasn't taking any more animals - when hearing that my mom was in her upper sixties, working full-time, and caring for roughly 40 animals all by herself, generally stop hassling her. Or they dump them at her gate.

Or they beg, plead, hassle, harangue, and bother my mother until she agrees to take the animal in question.

That's what happened yesterday. The woman couldn't even keep all of her excuses straight: she just lost her job and only had $70 to her name. But she had to be at work by such-and-such time. The cat had an injured eye and she couldn't afford treatment, but the vet said that with some eye ointment it would clear up. So on and so forth. Eventually my mom agreed to take it. The woman assured her that it had been tested for FeLV/FIV (the woman's vet said it hadn't been, but perhaps this was done at a mobile clinic?), that it didn't need eye surgery (the vet says the eye must be surgically removed), and that she would arrange with our vet to pay for its neutering (she didn't). Oh, and this woman is in her twenties and drives a Mustang.

Obviously, this cat will be far better off with my mom than with this woman. That being said, why can't people other than my mom take responsibility once in a while? In what world is it a good idea to unload your problem onto a 68 year old woman who teaches full time and who takes care of roughly forty animals all by herself so that you can continue driving your Mustang and talking on your smartphone?
UPDATE: So apparently when the woman told my mom that the cat had tested negative for FeLV, that was a lie. Not surprising. This was the email I got from my mom: "Had to have the poor boy euthanised.  He turned out to be FeLv+, and Wes (the vet) said it was a 'hot positive'.  Thought  surgery would be problematic, and I couldn't even put him in with Flame -- it would put her at risk.  It was so sad -- he purred right up to the last second." Good thing we didn't just take the woman at her word and let him loose in our house, as he was highly contagious with an often fatal disease. Arrrrgh. 
UPDATE 2: OMFG. The former owner of this cat (the woman who refused to take no for an answer when my mom tried to explain that she couldn't take him) called to say that she would pay to have him neutered. Mom informed the woman of everything I mentioned in my previous update. The woman said that she'd had the cat tested and that it was negative, and that she didn't understand how this could have happened. Then she called back today to bitch my mom out for killing her cat, swearing that she'd had the cat tested and it was negative, and why didn't my mom call her, yadda, yadda, yadda. Obviously, my mom didn't call her because the woman had refused to take responsibility for this animal, and totally relinquished all responsibility for the cat when she pressured my mom into taking it. So here's my mom, spending over a hundred dollars on this cat (for the exam, FeLV/FIV test, and eventual euthanasia), being the one making the tough decisions about what is best for this cat, and being the one holding it in her arms, comforting it as it died... and this woman who refused to take responsibility for her own pet is now blaming my mom? And chewing her out? People suck.

Relieved, and yet infuriated.

I’ve been home for ten days now. It’s amazing the difference between Orlando and Southeast Georgia when it comes to stray animals. I have seen ZERO stray dogs and only ONE stray (but nonetheless large) cat since moving to Orlando at the beginning of August.

In Orlando, I’ve seen rush hour traffic on a six-lane highway come to a standstill for two foolish sandhill cranes who decided that was a good time and place for a stroll. I haven’t seen much of any roadkill. Now, the lack of strays could simply mean effective animal control (and I shudder to think of what that implies), and the absence of visible roadkill could mean that the folks whose job it is to remove carcasses from the roadway actually do their thing. I did witness the sandhill crane crossing myself, and I was amazed that everyone stopped.

Things are so different here in Southeast GA. I suspect that were a sandhill crane to take a stroll down the main drag (only four lanes), it would get run down in an instant. Since I’ve been home, I’ve seen several dead dogs and cats in the middle of roads, as well as on the verge.

A couple of days after arriving up here, I noticed a pack of large, stray dogs hanging out in a field next to a Georgia Power relay station. They’re not starving (yet), although their ribs are starting to show. This past Sunday I gave in and stopped. Three of them were incredibly friendly. I can’t take in any large dogs, as I will be going back to Orlando in a few weeks. My mom has as many dogs at her place as she can handle (space-wise, safety-wise, and money-wise). But every time I drive out to our land, I pass these dogs. I can’t just do nothing. So I bought some dogfood, and began stopping to feed them once a day. Granted, I knew that couldn’t be a long term solution, but it was the best that I could do.

Yes, the dog on the left had a collar. However, it had no tags, its ribs were beginning to show, and it had patches of missing fur on its back. He was incredibly sweet. As was the female dog in the middle.

(Now, before anyone suggests calling the local animal control, please remember my history with them. Even though the place is under new management, I cannot in good conscience send any animals to that place. Or as I remember it: that death camp. Also, one can’t just pick up an animal off the side of the road and drive it to the local shelter because they only accept animals by appointment, and they have a waiting list.)

While stopped to feed the dogs, I noticed that one of them (the only one that wouldn’t let me pet it, much less catch it) had a huge, gaping wound in its neck. If I could have caught it, I would have taken it to the vet to be put out of its misery, but I couldn’t catch it. Instead I took some pictures of it, as well as of the other dogs.

I got in my car to drive away. And I saw what looked like a white plastic bag rolling down the center of the road. As I got closer, I realized that it was actually a white puppy with black spots. I pulled over; the two cars behind me didn’t slow down. They barely missed hitting the little guy. I opened my car door and called to him. He timidly slunk over, but as soon as I began to pet him, he relaxed and began wagging. He was filthy, and covered in fleas.

Three of the four adult dogs have a good chance of surviving out there. The fourth I couldn’t catch. This puppy stood no chance of surviving (and at least with a puppy I don’t have to worry about bringing a cat-killer or small-dog-killer into my home), so I took him home with me, with the goal of finding him a home before I return to Orlando at the start of the new year.

Regarding the dogs that were still out on the street, I did the only thing that I could do: I shared their pictures on the internet with other animal rescue folks. The pictures – especially the graphic ones of the dog with the injured throat – were shared far and wide on Facebook.

Several people who live about two hours from here (in a place that has an even worse stray animal problem than we do, if you can believe it) immediately agreed to drive up the following day to see if they could catch the dogs. I gave them a map, in which I highlighted the area where the dogs usually are, and gave them my phone number if they needed my help in catching (or finding) the dogs. I thought it was odd – but wonderful – that they were willing to drive two hours to attempt to catch homeless dogs. I went to bed feeling relieved, and expecting to hear from them in the late morning the following day.

Early morning the following day, I discovered that I had received some bizarre emails from them. Had I contacted local animal control? (Have I mentioned my feelings about local animal control? Yes, yes I have.) Perhaps they should be the ones to deal with this situation. Or maybe they local animal control should at least assist? What did I know about local animal control? When the dogs were caught, could they be taken to the local shelter? I told them that our local animal control was useless – and that our local shelter requires appointments to bring in animals. Oh, and that it’s a kill shelter. I didn’t hear back from them for the rest of the day.

Only two of the dogs were in the field that afternoon, so I fed them, then went to my mom’s to check my email. There was nothing from any of the rescuers saying if the other dogs had been picked up or not, so I emailed them and asked. The reply? They had decided not to come, because it wasn’t really worth it to drive two hours one-way when the dogs might not be there, and when they might not be able to catch the injured one. They had called local animal control, but were told that local animal control would only do something if *I* contacted them with the details.

You know how I feel about the local animal control and shelter. Against my better judgment, I messaged the local shelter’s director with the photos and the map and explained the situation. His terse reply: “We’ll see what we can do.”

I didn’t hear anything yesterday, but this morning there was a comment on Facebook from one of the staff at the local shelter, saying that the dog with the injured throat was now at the shelter. The rescue folks immediately said they’d be down to pick him up – and they said they’d take the puppy, too! Yay!! There’s already someone connected to the rescue who is seriously considering adopting the puppy. Hooray!! This is all wonderful news, and I have to keep reminding myself that some good has come out of all of this.

I wrote back to the local shelter’s staff member and asked about the other dogs – the healthy, if thin ones – had they been brought in as well? No reply.

Later the rescue folks messaged me and asked if I could meet them at the local shelter when they came down to pick up the injured throat dog. I agreed, and met them at the shelter early this afternoon, where I said goodbye to the sweet, and super-cute little puppy.

Then the director of the shelter came out. Keep in mind this is a completely different person from the one featured in The Inhumane Society, and someone with whom I have gotten along quite well in the past. He said to me, “Annie, I have a message for you from the people over at Animal Control. They told me to tell you that you need to stop feeding the dogs, because it’s illegal, and that if you keep doing it, they’re going to arrest you. Also, they’re going to go back out there and shoot the dogs, so you won’t have to worry about them.”

Wait. WHAT? Was he joking? “Shoot them? Are you serious?” I asked. He nodded and said, “Yep. That’s what they said.” I told him that I had a reply, but that it couldn’t be spoken in polite company, but that the next time he spoke to them he should string together a bunch of four letter words from me.

What really bothered me was that neither he, the secretary, nor the rescue person reacted at all to him saying that the local Animal Control folks were going to go and shoot three reasonably healthy, and VERY friendly dogs. And that and the whole threatening to arrest me thing? Talk about flashbacks to 2009. Although, hell, even “Carol” threatened to arrest people who shot dogs, not vice versa!

I left as quickly as I could – I was on the verge of tears by the time I got into my car. I drove off, called my mom, and totally broke down into hysterics. Here I had been trying to do right by these dogs, and all I was getting in return was myself threatened with arrest and the dogs shot. I hadn’t seen them this morning, and figured that very well might be why. I couldn’t decide which was worse, the fact that my trying to help these dogs had likely gotten three of the five killed, or the fact that no one but me seemed to care.

My mom called Animal Control, to find out why her daughter was being threatened with arrest, and why the Animal Control folks were now in the business of shooting dogs. In contrast to the very specific message given to me by the shelter’s director, they told her that I wasn’t being threatened with arrest, but that in GA if you feed a dog for more than ten days, it’s yours – and if it’s running loose, you are then responsible for fines and whatnot. She pointed out that I only started feeding them Sunday, which was not ten days ago. They also told her that they had not shot the dogs, and had no plans to do any such thing as they do not shoot stray dogs. They said they had tried to catch them, but were unsuccessful. They also said they were not planning to go back out there. (Since the director of the shelter clearly made a point that the Animal Control folks had said to tell me these things about shooting and arrest, either he made it up, or the Animal Control folks were lying to my mom. I don’t know who to believe.) The Animal Control people also told my mom that the only reason why they went out and caught the injured throat dog (using a tranquilizer gun) was that someone on the shelter’s board of directors had seen my facebook pictures of it, and demanded that it be taken care of.

This whole thing has stressed me out to no end and gave me an abysmal headache. I spent the remainder of the afternoon under the covers with Mochi and Charlie.

I can’t wait to get back to Florida.

Damn, Friday the 13th, you don't disappoint.

Today sure has been a Friday the 13th.

Velvet went to the vet to get spayed today. This meant that she got to spend last night in my house, being kept away from food and water. Given that I have four other hungry and thirsty critters in my house right now, I didn’t want to put up all the food and water in the house; instead I put Velvet in her crate. And she cried ALL NIGHT. I had her at the vet bright and early, and went home and passed out.

Two hours later, I was awakened from blissful sleep (buried under a pile of canines and Charlie) by my mother calling in a fury: her truck wasn’t working.

Now let’s back up a little bit. Remember last Saturday, when my mom bought herself a pickup? Well, we’d gone to a couple of dealers looking for a used Ford Ranger 4 cylinder with a manual transmission. The used car section of the local Toyota dealer had a white Ford Ranger with a manual transmission. We took it for a test drive, and liked it. Mom asked the salesman if it was a 4 cylinder or a V6, because she was looking for a 4 cylinder. He said he didn’t know, but would check. He went out and popped the hood, and came back with the answer that it was a 4 cylinder. We asked for the CarFax. He printed it out, but we got distracted chatting with him and forgot to look at it.

Mom bought the truck. She paid with a check.

It seemed to be a good purchase, although my mom kept having a hard time shifting into third. I remember when I first switched from my 1979 Volvo to my 2003 Toyota Echo, I had a hard time getting it to go into third, simply because it was slightly different from what I used to – I figured mom was having the same problem. As she has a six month warranty, Mom stopped by the dealer yesterday complain that the transmission was sticking – and to pick up the CarFax. She was told that nothing was wrong with the transmission because, “Nothing can go wrong with a manual transmission.” They didn’t even look at it. (As someone who had her manual transmission go out on her in the middle of an intersection once – granted this was the ’79 Volvo and it was 19 years old at the time – I can tell you that things most definitely DO go wrong with manual transmissions on occasion. What bullshit.) Then mom got home and took a look at the CarFax… which said that her truck was a V6. We looked under the hood – yep, six spark plugs = V6. She had specifically wanted a 4 cylinder because she wasn’t going to be hauling anything and she wanted the better gas mileage from the smaller engine.

So mom called the dealer. When she told the salesman the truck was a V6, first he insisted that oh no, it was *definitely* a 4 cylinder; he had looked and there were only four spark plugs. Eventually he decided that OK, maybe it was a V6 – but my mom really needed the V6 anyway for all the hauling she was going to be doing. Yeah. He tried to give her a V6 sales pitch. Of course my mom was upset, because while we *might* have bought the truck anyway had we known it was a V6, we would have also gone to Jacksonville to look at some other options first. She argued with the sales guy, and he spoke with his manager… the best they could promise her was that if in the next few weeks they found a comparable-value 4 cylinder, they would trade her. Hah. We figured we were stuck with it. Still, we liked it, except for the sticky transmission and the gas mileage of the V6.

Last night, while doing her electronic banking, mom noticed that the dealer hadn’t cashed her check. We joked about stopping the check.

And then this morning as my mom was driving, she went to downshift and found that it would not go into ANY gear. (Newsflash: this is what happens when a manual transmission goes bad.) She was only a couple blocks from her mechanic, so he came and looked at it; his judgment was that the transmission was shot, and that she’d have to get it re-built. Mom called the dealer, and they sent a wrecker to pick her and the truck up.

The wrecker was driven by one of mom’s former students. She convinced him to swing by the bank first, so she could stop payment on the check. Hah!

Once arriving at the dealer, mom discovered that the salesman was now saying that he had NEVER told her that it was a 4 cylinder… but, ooops… the sales paperwork had the truck written up as a 4 cylinder, not as a V6. The dealer was FURIOUS that mom had stopped payment on the check, and told her that it was illegal for her to do that, and that they could have her arrested, but that “out of the goodness of their heart” they wouldn’t call the cops. Dude, seriously?

Anyway, mom got them to agree to refund her $400 for her van (which has apparently already been sent to the crusher) plus the $35 for stopping payment on the check. Not sure how she managed this, as I wasn’t there. (They were worried that the title change might have already gone through, and that they’d be hella out of luck if we got the title in the mail and didn’t want to give it back, so this might be why they became cooperative.) Of course, we don’t yet *have* this money yet, so god knows if we’ll get it. Allegedly they were supposed to call us if they got it fixed and we wanted to re-purchase it. They insisted that surely it was something minor like the clutch (mom’s mechanic says the clutch is fine) or “just a lock on the transmission that needs to be removed” (can we say ‘bullshit’??) – but not surprisingly, they never called.

THEN… mom’s car (her 1997 Ford Escort) wouldn’t start. It had sat un-driven over the past week since the arrival of the truck, so we thought perhaps it had a dead battery. Until we were unable to jump it from my car. Mom called her mechanic again, and he came over to take a look. The starter was dead. As in the starter that he replaced last month. Yeah. So he’s going to take the starter back to the auto-parts store and get it swapped for a new one. He says he’ll be able to get a free new starter, but mom will still have to pay him for labor to install it. Joy.

We picked Velvet up at the vet and took her to my house, and then sat through a torrential downpour. Our next destination was the land, but I was NOT driving my car through the water obstacle (er, “road”) after all the rain. We parked and walked out there, wading down the road on foot. While out there, we discovered that Honey (my horse) has developed some major swelling in the lymph node area under her jaw, so we’re going to have to get the vet out there to look at her. (It doesn’t seem to be bothering her, but it can’t be good for her, either.) Then when we walked back out, Mama Cat followed us the half mile back to the car, including picking her way through the woods alongside the water obstacle. So there we were at the car with a cat that needed to be half a mile on the other side of the water. As our options were leaving Mama there, driving my Toyota Echo through the flood waters, or taking Mama home, Mama Cat is now part of the animal madhouse at my house. Yeah.

I feel ya, Charlie.

We’ll be going to Jacksonville tomorrow to check out a 2008 Ford Ranger. Wish us luck!

People are assholes. Also, please spay and neuter your pets.

I’ve been trying to find homes for the kittens that were dumped on our land back in April, but have had very little luck. We’ve adopted out just ONE of the five, so we still have Mama Cat and four babies. It’s much easier to adopt out little kittens than full grown cats, and unfortunately our remaining four – at roughly four months of age – are getting pretty grown up looking. They’re probably going to be remaining with us.

There’s a local facebook group for buying/selling/giving away/getting pets. I joined it simply so that I could have another place to post pictures of my kittens. I’m certainly not the only person on there hawking free fuzzy felines – and quite a few people prefaced their posts with comments like “my mama cat done had another litter.” Dude. Spay your mama cat. Like yesterday.

There are also TONS of people who use this group to sell their “purebreds” – I put that in quotes, because a good half of those listed don’t come with papers, and many that do are CKC registered. Not that papers – especially CKC papers – are worth all that much, as plenty of exposés have shown that many "registries" will register ANYTHING as long as you've got the cash. What’s the point of a “purebred” dog anyway? OK, if you’re planning on showing it, I can understand. If you’re looking for a dog bred for particular traits (ie, border collie) because you require a dog that has those traits (ie, you need a dog to herd your sheep), I can understand. If it’s just going to live in your backyard or sleep on your bed, is your “purebred” black lab really going to be a better dog than the average black lab mix down at your local pound?

I shared the following graphic on the group after reading about one too many litters of kittens and purebreds lacking papers:

And this was the only response I got:

That is so wrong in so many different ways, I don’t even know where to begin.

Meanwhile, there was another fellow who was a member of this facebook group, who would post comments periodically to the effect that if people would get their pets spayed and neutered, there wouldn’t be all these pets being advertised, and our local animal control wouldn’t be over run.

Group members began discussing how they should complain to the group admin and see about getting him banned. Yeah.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… Back in April, my mother contacted a local well driller (who happens to live fairly close to our land) regarding drilling her a shallow well. He said yeah, sure, he’d do it. And we waited, and waited, and waited. By May, my mom was calling him daily, leaving messages on his machine and with his wife, and we would stop by his house and his shop on our way to or from our land. He was constantly full of excuses for why he hadn’t gotten out there yet. Finally, by late May, we had a well drilled. But just that – a pipe in the ground with no pump, tank, or plumbing connecting it to the house. But not to worry – he was going to do that, too! In fact, he had the pump and the tank, he just… had a bunch of excuses as to why he couldn’t get to it right away. Well, our 1906 bungalow didn’t have plumbing in May, so it wasn’t really urgent. However, by late June, the plumbing was almost completely finished (the bathroom sink has to be moved because it was installed in the wrong place, but other than that, kitchen and bathroom plumbing are installed and ready for water).

We still have no pump or tank, so yesterday we stopped by the fellow’s shop to see what was up. Apparently back in May the well had collapsed. He needed a special tool to fix it, but he didn’t have that tool. He had called a person he knew who had one, but they’d never gotten back to him. But hey, if we wanted a much more expensive deep well, he had the tools to do that. Oh, and his mama cat had kittens, and he was going to shoot them.

What. The. Fuck.

Apparently, someone had dumped some stray cats out by his house. We’re certainly no stranger to that phenomenon, but at least when that happens to us, we take responsibility for the critters to make sure they don’t reproduce. Well, he figured they weren’t his cats, so it wasn’t his problem. But now there are too many of them, so he’s going to have to shoot them.

Dammit if we didn’t say we’d take them. I mean, you can’t shoot kittens. Of course, they’re feral, so they’ll have to be trapped (and they’ll probably be totally unadoptable), and we don’t have them yet. We’ll have to see if he traps them like he said he would, or if he just shoots them.

I tried to negotiate for a bargain on the well in exchange for relieving him of his cat problem. No dice. Why would he do that when he could shoot them for free?

What an ass.

People! Don’t be assholes! Spay and neuter your pets! I’ve compiled a list of myths and facts about spaying and neutering (based off of information from the Humane Society and the Pet Adoption League, and have placed them below. Please give them a read, and spay and neuter!

In addition, I’ve made an informative facebook “cover” (for those of you with the timeline feature), which contains information on why spaying and neutering is important. The small-sized version is below. The full-sized version (which is the correct dimensions for a facbook cover) can be downloaded by clicking here. Please feel free to use this as your facebook cover and help EDUCATE people on the need to spay and neuter.

Myth: A female dog/cat should have one litter of puppies/kittens before being spayed in order to prevent health problems.

Fact: There is NO medical evidence to support this. In fact, females spayed before their first heat are typically healthier than those that are spayed later in life. Spaying a female dog or cat at a young age can help to reduce the risks of pyometra (a potentially fatal infection of the uterus) and breast cancer (yes, cats and dogs can get breast cancer).

Myth: Children should experience the miracle of birth.

Fact: OMFG. I heard people tell me this as they brought in litters of kittens back when I worked at the pound. They couldn’t find homes for their little miracles of birth, so they brought them to us… but apparently they weren’t interested in showing their children the miracle of death. (At the time I worked at this particular pound, it was a high-kill shelter run by someone who did not like cats; I’d say roughly 95% of cats/kittens that were brought in were euthanized within a week.) If you want to teach your children about the miracle of birth, you should also teach them about the miracle of responsibility – or be prepared to teach them the hard lessons of what happens if you drop them at the local pound.

Myth: If I spay/neuter my pet, it will become fat and lazy.

Fact: Pets get fat and lazy for the same reason people do: too much food and not enough exercise. If you feed your pet the correct amount of food and give it plenty of exercise, it will stay lean and full of energy. Keep in mind, however, that the metabolisms of all animals slow with age, so your ten year old dog will not be as active as your six month old puppy, whether it’s been fixed or not.

Myth: It’s not natural.

Fact: Domesticated dogs and cats aren’t “natural” either. Neither are laser eye surgery, heart transplants, blood transfusions, plastic surgery, hair dye… Additionally, dogs and cats are incapable of having a sexual identity. Just because you’d feel like less of a man/woman if you were “fixed” does not mean your dog/cat will. Dogs and cats do not suffer any sort of emotional reaction to being spayed/neutered.

Myth: My pet lives inside, so I don’t need to get it fixed.

Fact: Male dogs that are fixed before puberty won’t lift their leg and pee on your furniture. Male cats that are fixed before puberty won’t get in the habit of spraying (on your furniture!) to mark their territory. It is easier to break pets of these habits if they have been neutered. Female dogs that are not fixed have a “period” just like human females, which can be very messy; spayed female dogs do not menstruate. Female cats in heat can be incredibly annoying. They meow incessantly while in heat, and will often pee/poop outside of the litter box. Spayed female cats do not have this problem. It is easier on both the animal and its owner to have your pets fixed! And besides… your animal only has to escape once in order to mate.

Myth: I’ll find good homes for the puppies/kittens my pet has.

Fact: Really? Have you ever tried finding homes for pets – much less *good* homes? It is very, very difficult to find people who are both willing to take in a puppy or kitten and who are willing to provide it with a good home. We’ve been trying since April (when the Mama and her five kittens were dumped at our land) to find homes for five adorable, friendly, and playful kittens… and so far we’ve found a home for ONE.

Myth: I have a boy dog/cat, so I don’t need to get him fixed.

Fact: Aside from the hormonal problems of leg lifting in male dogs and spraying in male cats, how do you think female dogs and cats get pregnant? It ain’t immaculate conception, folks.

Myth: My cat/dog (or cat/dog that was dumped at my house) is pregnant, so I have no choice.

Fact: Just like humans, a pregnant cat/dog can be aborted. The vet performs the spaying procedure and abortion simultaneously.

Myth: It’s too expensive to get my pet spayed/neutered.

Fact: There are plenty of low-cost spay/neuter facilities across the US, although if you live in a rural area you may have to drive a ways to reach one. Trust me, it’s worth the drive to a low-cost clinic or the cost of doing it at your local vet if you can avoid the cost of vet care and food for puppies/kittens! This tool from the HSUS can help you locate your nearest low-cost spay/neuter clinic. You might also try asking your local vet if he/she has any state vouchers for low cost spay/neuter surgeries. Many states have these programs, but you usually have to ask the vet about it. (Vouchers are limited, so it’s generally not something clinics advertise.)

Hello, Perve.

To say that Seoul subways at rush hour are packed would be an understatement. As would any analogies involving sardines. The Seoul subway at rush hour defies all laws of nature, cramming far more people into each subway car that should actually fit. There are attendants at some of the busiest stations whose job is to push the mass of humanity just far enough into the train for the doors to squeeze shut. My commute takes me four stops and two trains. I only suffer the brunt of the squished and squashed subway madness between Dangsan and National Assembly. However, between those two stops, both morning and evening, I find myself literally wedged in so tightly between other people that I cannot move.

I haven't taken any subway at rush hour photos myself.
This one came from here.

In general, the Seoul subway is pretty safe. There is no way I would bring my big purse with its big, open top that doesn't zip shut on the Moscow subway or a Bishkek marshrutka; its contents would be liberated on my first trip. Theft isn't an issue on the Seoul subway. Perverts, however, are. Now I'll stick to my generalization that the subways are pretty safe, but human beings being what they are, in a city of 18 million, you're going to have some pervy folk on the subway who figure that being crammed in tightly next to someone is a legitimate excuse to cop a feel.

Now obviously, when you're pressed up directly against someone, there's going to be some inadvertent touching. You need to move your hands to scratch your shoulder? Take a kleenex out of your purse? Answer your phone? Basically, you move your hands, they're going to touch somebody. If you ride the Seoul subway regularly, you know this, you know what it feels like, and you tune it out. (In fact, I can only tolerate the crazy crowds by keeping my earbuds tightly plugged in and my ipod cranked; helps me zone out.)

So there I am, riding line #9 between Yeouido and Dangsan on my way home this evening, doing my best to zone out to the Diane Rehm show, when the train rolls in to National Assembly. Normally it gets super unbelievably crowded at this stop. This is where the over the top sardine analogies come into play. So many people get on the train at this point that once they're all on, I normally can't move an inch. And so it was tonight.

I was crammed in there, listening to the Diane Rehm show rather dully dissect aspects of Wall Street accountability, and debating whether or not it was worth it to try and fish my ipod out and change the channel, when a hand started massaging my ass.

Wait, what? Surely not. Surely it was someone trying to get his ipod out of his pocket. I did my best to inch forward, getting nowhere and earning a couple of dirty looks. The hand continued to feel around. I was definitely getting groped. I tried to whirl around, but I literally couldn't do more than turn my head, first one way, then the other. I was completely surrounded by men, all of whom (from what I could see) were staring blankly ahead, as if zoning out to whatever was blasting through their headphones. And I couldn't move, and the hand kept exploring. I wanted nothing more than to jam both my elbows back as hard as I should while shouting 하지 마! at the top of my lungs. But not knowing who the perpetrator was, I was likely to end up elbowing an innocent grandfather and wind up on YouTube as the subwaytard. (Referencing the bustard, for those who didn't catch that. Clips of foreigners behaving badly in public have a tendency to go viral quite rapidly here.)

From an ad, discouraging men from groping women on the Seoul subway.
Taken from here.

Luckily, National Assembly and Dangsan aren't too far apart, and we were about halfway between the two stops when Mr. Happyhands began exploring. Now, if you know anything about the Seoul subway at rush hour, you'll know that getting off the train is more like being swept along by a rip tide. Every day I see people pushed out of the train who are trying desperately to remain on it. The way out of the train car is not a good time to stop and turn around to look your attacker in the eye... even if he is following you out the fucking door, continuing to grab and squeeze. Yeah. As soon as I had enough room, I slammed my left arm backwards and gave him a good slap on the wrist (sadly, worth about as much as a metaphorical slap on the wrist), and the hand magically removed itself from my ass. By the time I was clear enough of the crush of people that I could actually turn around, there was no way of telling who it was. Fucker.

[insert profanity here]

Some things just suck. And this is one of them. Remember my mom's cat, Cylon? I wrote about him here. He's the one that some redneck asshole shot with a .22 back in May, fracturing the hell out of his pelvis and one of his back legs. And yet miraculously, he recovered. Not completely, he limped, he couldn't put all of his weight on his back end like a normal cat, and he couldn't move as fast as he once had... but he was mobile. Playful. Started going in and out the cat window.

After his injury, Cylon was relocated from my mom's land to her house. She lives on a narrow, low-traffic road, with a speed limit of about 25 or 30mph.

And some motherfucker ran him over. Right in front of my mom's house. Not far from a stop-sign, so whether coming or going, whoever did it couldn't have been going very fast. I cannot imagine how it could have been accidental.

People suck.

We'll miss you, Cy.

You were a sweetheart, and quite a character.

While recovering from being shot, he spent several months in a cage.

Once recovered, he couldn't put weight on his right rear leg.