Saturday, April 30, 2005

Come and Meet Your Best Friend At The Zoo.

Detroit Zoo Adoption Event. (Michigan Humane Society.)
The following are pictures from one of the adoption events put on by the Michigan Humane Society. It's held in the parking lot of The Detroit Zoo and is one of the biggest events of it's kind in the country.
For interested people in the area, the event also runs tomorrow. (Sunday)

If interested in adopting a pet, please consider:

1. Visiting Your Local Animal Shelter.

2. Visiting -- a site which lists animals available at shelters in your area.

3. A purebred rescue group. For just about every breed of dog you can think of, there are rescue groups staffed by fans of that breed. A websearch for rescue, your state, and the breed should give you the information you need.

I Was Framed!

Kitten waiting for a home.
Michigan Humane Society Adoption Event Held at Detroit Zoo.
He "claims" that the fact he's behind bars has nothing to do with The Animal Cops. He is quoted as saying, "Hey, I'm the innocent victim here. And everybody knows they get the bad humans, not the mischievous kittens!"

The Very Definition of So Ugly He's Cute!

Dog Waiting For Adoption at Michigan Humane Society Adoption Event -Meet Your Best Friend At The Zoo.

Smokey, a Beagle/pug mix, was surrendered because his owner died.

I Just Love This Face! Don't You?

Twiggy Waiting For a Home At Zoo Adoption Event.

Friday, April 29, 2005

My Daily Dose of Vitamin "See."

The first comment I ever received here was from a Lemon. The comment went bye-bye when I added trackback, but he compared my ankle tattoo to cave paintings. Which was the concept so, well, good.

I love his blog--so much more artistic than anything I could produce. And I wonder where in the hell he gets all the lemon pictures. If I tried to have a bright yellow blog, the results would be simply tragic, and yet he makes it work. (Darling!)

Recently he did a series on his experiences in the 80's and 90's, when AIDS began to decimate the gay community. I found them to be incredibly interesting and well-written. Several of the best written entries I've seen--point blank!

Since his blog was one of the first I ever visited, he gave me false expectations of the quality out there. I'm not saying he ruined me for other blogs, especially since I'm not his type, but I can honestly say that once you go Citrus...

For those of you who find lemons to be a little tart, let me introduce you to an Orange: Several of the pictures make me smile, although I think this blogger is really convinced she is an Orange! But this is America, and dammit, if she wants to be Sunkist--God Bless Her!

And citrus fruit is just so good for you. Now if I could just find a blogging Grapefruit! Or a Lime...
"It would perhaps not be amiss to point out that he had always tried to be a good dog. He had tried to do all the things his MAN and his WOMAN, and most of all his BOY, had asked or expected of him. He would have died for them, if that had been required. He had never wanted to kill anybody. He had been struck by something, possibly destiny, or fate, or only a degenerative nerve disease called rabies. Free will was not a factor." - Cujo, Stephen King.

This part absolutely wiped me out the first time I read it. King did an excellent job of putting us into Cujo's mind, allowing us to understand the dog's innocence.I remembered being saddened at the idea that Cujo could not comprehend why he was doing the things he did.

She's Got Legs!

You are Betty Grable!
You're Betty Grable!

What Classic Pin-Up Are You?

I've had a couple guys tell me I've got legs like Grable--so I guess this works. (I think they were just trying to get laid.)

The Club.

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket --safe, dark, motionless, airless-- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.
CS Lewis

One of the lessons I've learned blogging is that it's hard not to connect with someone pouring out their honest feelings and sharing personal details of their lives. I believe that it's a lot easier to vilify or scorn someone if you cannot picture them as people who love and laugh and hope.

I've spent some time recently at lately and find myself really liking the guy. For those of you who are drawing a blank of the name he was the lead in Stand By Me (the guy with the leech on his tallywacker!) and was Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Seeing his blog listed as very popular, I initially checked it out for the curiousity value. What I discovered was he is a self-proclaimed geek and a pretty decent human being. And I now stop by every few days.

Now this guy has got a lot of grief over the years because Wesley was not a fan favorite. A friend of mine pointed out that the problem is that the writers, while talented, could not pull off an intelligent teen without making him a condescending know-it-all. The problem is that many have confused the character with the actor. I suppose, as a fan of TNG, I was one of those people. (If I admit to anymore nerd interests I'll be endangering my super groovy hipster image.) Mea Culpa!

What I like about Wil is that the man loves his pets. And is not afraid to cry when he loses one. Unfortunately he's lost 2 cats in fairly close succession. As someone who has lost her share of pets, as well as someone who worked with many grieving pet owners my heart goes out to him for his recent losses.

I don't know how many times at the shelter I saw people look at me with bloodshot eyes as I did intakes on their pets and asked did they want to be present. While families began to grieve, life went on around us--people cooed at puppies, staff members joked, adoptions were completed, and people turned in animals for both valid and ridiculous reasons.

And then, if they wanted to be present, I would lead them back to euthanasia; a long slow labored walk for animal and human. We all knew the owners had every right to be present, but whomever was doing the euth often hated it--the added pressure to have everything go smoothly, the knowledge that it is easier to put an animal to sleep when you don't have to think about how much they meant to a family, and the effort to do your job and not just comfort the animal, but also the people.

Then the inevitable question ... "Have you ever been present before?" ... and the explanation that it would be fast and painless, that there might be moans or muscle twitches after the pet was gone, that we would confirm they were truly gone, that one of us would gently restrain the pet for the safety of the animal and the tech, but that they were welcome to gather round and comfort their animal. And we were always ready to move the tissues within easy reach.

Often the women were more stoic, while the man sobbed. It was somehow harder when the men cried--mostly because you could count on them apologizing for not being...what? More manly in the face of losing a member of their family? We would tell them we understood, but they never seemed to be any less embarrassed.

My husband once rushed one of our dogs in to the clinic portion on a day I was working. We made the decision it was his time, and I paged the euth tech I trusted the most. Unfortunately I was sobbing when I did it and that reverberated throughout the building. Some of my co-workers imitated that page for weeks. I understood--we all developed thick-skin and gallows humor to survive.

It was tougher when the euth request was for a Sheltie, or even a Collie, because it was like looking at one of my own. There was nothing to say to the people--it was not the time to bond over the love of the same breed.

But afterward, after our grief has settled, pet owners who've lot an animal are bonded in that loss. After all, who hasn't lost a pet and heard words to the effect of, "It was just an animal"? Those of us who've allowed them into our hearts, let them sleep next to our children, given them presents under the Christmas tree, and allowed them to see us at our best and out worst are unified with one another by the truth...

They were much more than just an animal...and our lives were richer for having had them with us for a while.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Just Drew It!

Photo By Annie Leibovitz
This one's for the girls
Who've ever had a broken heart
Who've wished upon a shooting star
You're beautiful the way you are
This one's for the girls
Who love without holding back
Who dream with everything they have
All around the world
This one's for the girls
I can't lie - I love Drew!
I relate to her, and feel like her personality is similar to my own. Someone who cares greatly for me--and not so much for her--thinks I'm mad. But I don't care.
I embrace my inner Drew.
And with a broken wing, she still sings.
She keeps an eye on the sky.
With a broken wing, she carries her dreams.
Man, you ought to see her fly.
She's Not Afraid to Live Fully.
From her troubled childhood, to her wild twenties, to her grrrrl power present...I dig what she is about. I adore that she can wear butterfly barettes and wield power.
You get the feeling that she loves wholeheartedly--that she gives her heart completely--that she thinks every guy is The One.
And She Always Bounces Back!
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly.

(This One's For The Girls - lyrics by Bob Gifford and perfomed by Martina McBride. She's a Butterfly - lyrics by Martina McBride. Broken Wing - lyrics by James House/Sam Hogin/Phil Barnhart)

Wednesday, April 27, 2005


You are 87% Gemini

I cannot lie--I'm a Gemini. Although Geminis are notorious for being capable of creating entertaining fictions, I tend to label them as such.

The Gift of Fear.

I mentioned this book in the comments for "Just Lucky," but I wanted to expand it here. I think this book is a terrific tool! It made me think about the risks I take because I don't want to be rude or offend someone!

What Mr. DeBecker states is we all have instincts that tell us when we are in danger. There is a primitive part of us that knows when harm is approaching. We hear a voice inside that warns us when something is wrong in the people we know or surroundings - and to ignore this voice can be deadly.

Women have been socialized to be polite, and people fear looking foolish, so often we will ignore the feeling that something is "hinky." We don't want to indicate to the guy walking toward us at night that we somehow don't trust him - we don't want to insult him by crossing the street. When someone approaches us for help, we don't want to tell them "No." The cost of being polite or losing dignity by being overly cautious, could be our lives.

I don't know how many men, when I balked at giving them too much personal info at first, have told me, "Hey, I promise I'm not Jack the Ripper!" Yeah, I pretty much think Jack the Ripper used that line a couple times. What the good men need to realize is that it's nothing personal, and a trait to me encouraged when a woman hesitates. The last thing a "good guy" should ever do is encourage a female to act against common sense.

As DeBecker points out, why is a woman worried about pissing off a guy who doesn't get why she distrusts him initially? If you cannot fathom telling a child to get into a car with a stranger, why in the hell would you encourage a woman to do something similar?

He also points out how women and men have to see the world very differently by necessity and how men might not initially understand fully a woman's concerns and the issues she might face.

The book goes into how predators use tools to create a false sense of trust and intimacy. They want to create a relationship in 5 minutes, that would normally take 5 months or 5 years, in order to get a foothold into your life.

Anyhow, fabulous book for women and parents, and I understand there are more books in the series more focused on children. Now click on the link and get it before something bad happens. (I cannot afford to lose regular readers!)

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

The Wolves Will Be Filing a Restraining Order


I snagged this from the International Wolf Center cams in Ely, Minnesota. I swear it's like they knew I was watching.

Just Lucky

It amazes me how people equate luck with worthiness, morals, or skill.

There are a whole lot of beautiful people and a whole lot of "born rich" people. And a whole lot of people kissing their asses -- and not just to get laid or get some money. No, it's as if people think they're really better.

The same thing goes for youth. Hey, I'm all for looking at a nice-looking -- but legal aged OF COURSE -- youngun,' but being young doesn't take skill or talent. All you have to do is pass through the birth canal. (Except in the case of a C section.) Hey, at least if you've been to the Panama Canal, you have a few stories to tell.

Just about every week we see some celebrity being pulled over for drunk driving. I'm not completely without sympathy, but it's only luck that kept them from killing someone. When you get down to it they're not better than some Otis that plowed down some school kid... just luckier. Yet time after time we forgive the drunken celeb -- who can afford cabs, limos, whatever -- while making the person who killed someone a villain. Oh, sure, the person who killed someone should be punished, but let's not fool ourselves that they did anything dramatically different from the barfly who only killed himself, or the woman coming home from the club, who makes it home safely with No Memory of actually getting home.

Much of our tolerance of those that make it home safely is due to the fact that many of us are on their "team"; at some point a large pertentage of us got behind the wheel of a car, and had no business doing so. We might have had that supposed magical cup of coffee, or only took side street, or whatever... but we drove while we should not have, and we hoped to not see a cop car in the rearview mirror. And we'd like to think we were somehow different from the guy who killed some innocent people. We would like to think that.

Several months ago an 11-year-old got molested in a Target. As I recall, she'd asked her mother if she could go look at magazines. And some creep took her over to the lawn department and had a good old time. And there were a lot of people condemning the mother as if she'd sent a toddler into traffic -- blindfolded. For what? For not knowing a public store was not a safe place for an older child? For not knowing the security cameras were not actually being monitored? For having really crappy luck?

But all these parents came forward to say mom should have been watching. Why? Because nobody wants to think it could happen to their kids -- someone had to be negligent, right? The way I saw it: anyhow who'd ever let their child go down the street to a friend's house, bike around the block, or walk to the corner store needed to give that woman sympathy.

Every day we live we make choices. Some of the choices are not good, but with a little luck we don't do permanent harm. And sometimes we do everything right -- and the outcome is still tragic.

Making it home safe every night is not the same as sainthood.

Monday, April 25, 2005

Scarred For Life.

Warning - link has some profanity.

My mother was a single mom, who rarely dated, so I was never traumatized in the above fashion, BUT that makes it all the more amusing.

I had a friend whose parents would always make her and her siblings watch Saturday morning cartoons. The parents would emerge from their bedroom towards noon, wearing matching robes, and all a-glow. One day it occurs to Corey: "Oh My God, these people are having sex." After that even a glimpse of the robes filled her with angst.

Choosy Garbage Pickers.

I'm sitting by a front window watching various cars pull up so their drivers can root through our garbage. We are tossing out much because of the move. It took surprisingly long for the bikes to go. Some guy just took some book shelves. The first thing to go was a scrungy looking broom. I just don't understand people's priorities... This is some very nice trash here!

Edited to add this! Thank you to Citrus for pointing me in the right direction. Never say I didn't show both sides of the Garbage Picking Equation:

And I thank the people who took my garbage away, so the actual sanitation engineers won't be snotty toward us.

Pieces of Summer.

Hot town, summer in the city Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter
than a match head...

Pieces of Summer in Detroit: The Seventies. I wake up and it occurs to me: Summer Vacation! School's out. Three whole months -- that's practically forever! I'm Queen of the Summer! And we're going to Ely in August! Too Cool!

I put on the appropriate days of the week panties, I consider my training bra but it's itchy, and okay, I'm kinda proud of my bumps. Denin shorts and a Starsky and Hutch T-shirt - I'm stylin'.

I play with my Yorkie for a while. Daisy's the best! She's tiny but scary if she doesn't like you! She once chased this massive woman and kid down the street because they trespassed in our yard. The neighbors almost peed themselves they laughed so hard!

I go outside barefoot and the sidewalk is so hot! Ouch, I hop over to the grass! And then back on the sidewalk. Hurts so good. I know my friend Jill's father, they're are from Kentucky, will tell me that I walk around like a little hillbilly. Hey, shoes are for school.

Oops, I didn't brush my hair either. Two long brunette ponytails. I know by the end of the day the red highlights while start to show. Oh, and my freckles. I hate when the kids in school call me "Freckle Face." I guess I won't have to worry about THAT for a while!

I should have asked my grandmother for ice cream money. What if the truck comes? If I'm too far away from home, I'll just have to look sad and hope someone's parent will buy me something. Shameless.

Maybe Lisa's out. She has the absolute best bedroom and even more toys than I do! I mean, she has a freakin' canopy bed! Her mother is such a bitch and hates me for No Good Reason. The only reason we even get to play together is because her grandmother liked me -- she probably told Lisa's mother to "cut it out." Maybe even on her deathbed!

Or there's Brandy. I love that name. Brandy's mom is a bartender and their last name is Alexander. For Real! Brandy and Jill explained to me about my period. Brandy also explained "doing it" to me -- she got some of it waaaay wrong though. I know she messed up because I read romance novels and Brandy never mentioned anything about his "manhood" (that's what they call a dick in romances) getting hard, and she never mentioned him putting it inside a girl. I'm still a little foggy on the details.

I could play with Jill but she can be so bossy, and her brother is a psycho! Yeah, I think he tortures animals. I was carrying Daisy one day and I'm not sure if his eyes bugged out 'cause he wanted to set her on fire or because he was looking down my top. Just in case I always pull my shirt down when I see him so he can see what little cleavage I've got.

Lawn sprinkers! Am I too old to just run through the sprinklers? Who'll see me? I'll just go once -- fast! SoCold! And nobody saw me!

There's Kelly. He's kinda a little kid, but he's okay. He always wants to play superheroes, but I have the red, white, and blue bike so I'm a shoe-in for Wonder Woman.


But I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

Pieces of Summer in The Suburbs: The Eighties. School's out for Summer, School's Out Forever! I wish! I hate school. Summer goes too freakin' fast!

I knew it was getting close to summer the day Beth and I drove with the top down and Boys of Summer came on the radio. We sang at the top of our lungs! Of course, we sing everything at the top of our lungs -- it would be nice if one of us could actually sing.

For sure we'll be singing loud at the Rick Springfield. Hee hee, maybe he'll hear me and invite me backstage. Truuuue Luuuuuv! Yeah, right! Don't trust boys as far as you can throw them!

Like that moron -- what's-his-face! Asking me if he could pet Snoopy's nose. See, I had this red shirt with Snoopy on it, and you guessed it, his nose was right across my left tit. Of course I told him, "Yes." His jaw dropped -- he didn't do it, but we probably would have gotten suspended anyhow.

My grades were not at all bad this year. Once I figured out that if you mentioned Reagan to Mr. E, he'd spend the whole hour bitchin' about him. While he yelled I could do homework for my other classes. (It's not like I would do homework at home.)There's this preppy moron who always tries to debate Mr E. He called me a suck-up for grades and Mr. E told him at least I was passing. Guy lost all color in his face -- don't think he ever got a bad grade...ever! I'm totally not a suck-up just because -- I'm smart enough to play the game. E gets red in the face when you mention Republicans - Preppy is no genius if he can't see this is a useless battle. Wonder what his final grade was!

Anyhow, 3 months, I guess that's not too bad. Go to the beach. Hang out at the mall. Spend nights at Beth's and escape my mother. It'll be okay.

Let the wild winter wind bellow and blow, cuz I’m as warm as a July to-ma-to

There’s peaches on the shelf, potato’s in the bin, supper’s ready everybody come on in. Taste a little of the summer, Taste a little of the summer, Taste a little of the summer, Grandma put it all in jars

Well there’s a root cellar fruit cellar down below, watch your head now, down you go


So you say you’re weary and you don’t give a damn, I bet you never tasted her blackberry jam


Oh she’s got magic in her, you know what I mean, she puts the sun and rain in with her green beans


Well with the snow and the economy and everything, I think I’ll just stay down here and eat until spring


When I go down to see grandma I gain a lot of weight,
with her dear hands she feeds me plate after plate.
She cans the pickles sweet and dill, and the song of the whipoorwill, and the morning dew, and the evening moon, and I really got to go and see her soon, cuz the, canned goods that I buy in the store ain’t got the summer in ‘em any more...
Pieces of Summer in Ely, Mn: Nineties. Damn, I love it here. I can't wait until I live here, but D. promises soon. I could wake up every day of my life hearing the sounds of the wildnerness, knowing my neighbors, keeping it simple.

When I was a kid I knew all my neighbors, but now it just seems like I either wave to people in passing or avoid them. Crap, nobody is friendly anymore. Here people WAVE to you even if they don't know you - you feel embarrassed for them, because clearly they think you're someone else - and then it hits you that friendly people acknowledge even strangers!

And good service in restaurants. Didn't anyone tell the waitresses to be rude and distant? I hardly know how to react -- I think I'm overtipping.

I'm loving spending time with my grandmother. She was born here, and took me to visit her family fairly often growing up. She came to Detroit to work in the factories during World War II. She worked in a tank factory - Grannie the Riveter!

When I was a kid it was the best here! I could do wherever I wanted and I was told to just look for the water tower, which was just a block over from my great-grandmother's house. Now it's just plain my grandmother's house. Time flies.

My great-grandmother was this scary, bossy little Slovenian woman. She didn't seem little when I was a kid as she chased her cats from the upstairs with a broom and called me the Slovenian word for "Little Devil." Then I visited when I was in my teens and she was practically a midget. I mean, I'm sure she shrunk a little, but still...

And she was always feeding her cats kidneys. She would call out," I've got kidneys" and Fluffy and Penny would come running. (Usually from upstairs.) All I know is those damned cats lived forever Fluffy was 25 when she died and Penny was close to that. Kidneys are possibly the kitty fountain of youth.

People in this town seem to live forever. I think it's all the damned steep hills -- you get a work-out walking to the store.

I'm going to see the wolves at the wolf center again. I just want to adopt one -- is that so wrong? It is? Never mind then!

I think the fresh air makes D. Horny. Me too!

I'm soooo moving here - come hell or high water!

(Summer in The City, lyrics by J.Sebastion/S.Boone/M.Sebastian. Boys of Summer, lyrics by Don Henley. Canned Goods, lyrics by Greg Brown. )

New Etiquette To Learn?! 2 Links WHAT?

Very interesting entry I found through the latest blog exhange I've joined: According to this, some people follow a blog rule which states if you commented on a specific entry on someone's blog, you should link both the site and the main page?

Has anyone heard this? It doesn't seem practical to me. If I'm saying that a blog is really good in general it gets the main page, but if I'm talking about a specific entry it gets just that! Am I doing this wrong? My feeling is this: if you like the entry, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to find the main page.

The main part of the entry is about the links and blogs people chose to promote. I link specific sites in specific posts - as to my links on the side: if I find myself reading a blog, and consistently enjoying it, I'll link it.

I can't lie, I want a lot of people to read this - especially since there is a time where I might have stories to promote. But I do other things toward that goal, like Blog Explosion, listing myself on different search engines, etc.

You'll notice a changing link to one of the blogs on the exchange toward the bottom of the page - that's: (The exchange is geared toward women.) I felt a little hinky about even that - but most of the links are pretty good and it's clear I'm not advocating the specific blogs. New Jane is also associated with a directory for women's blogs: Since I tend to be attracting more women than men readers, I thought it would be a good site to mention. LOL, and I get extra points for mentioning it. (There's honesty for you.) I actually like how the ads look - unobtrustive. I'll let you all know if traffic picks up!

The point is, I'll never link someone who I don't enjoy, and when I'm doing an advertisement, you'll know it. And if someone is complete rubbish, I'll say that too! Well, if I'm feeling feisty! Oh, and I'm not doing the one link to the main page, one link to specific entry thing.

Leesa Went All James Lipton...and I Followed Her.

1. What is your favorite word? Puppy (Sad, sad, sad.)

2. What's your least favorite word? Scrape.

3. What turns you on? LOL, real estate, nature, a good song on the radio, a good book.

4. What turns you off? Math, mullets.

5. What sound do you love? The happy "monkey" sounds Riley (one of my dogs) makes when I pet him. Nature sounds - waves, loons, wolves howling in the distance...

6. What profession, other than yours, would you like to attempt? American Idol Judge. Um, okay - doggy daycare.

7. What profession would you not like to attempt? Mathematician (Proven by the fact that I might not even know how to spell it!)

8. If heaven exists, what would you like GOD to say when you arrive at the pearly gates? "Awww, I aint mad!"

Sunday, April 24, 2005

What's the Skinny?

Skinny Girl - Look at her! She's only awake an hour or two a day. But she makes every conscious moment count.

I think the # 1 myth about greyhounds is they are hyper. Yeah, right. They are fast, but very mellow and sedentary by nature. They have bursts of energy and the rest of the time they want to nap close to family.

While they are sight hounds, which means they have a tendency to want to chase small animals, they CAN be cat safe. The only time Rhiannon ever gets upset with the other pets is if they interfere with her sleep. (Most Greyhound Rescues screen to see how the dogs are with other animals.)

Many Greyhounds are terrific with kids, do fine in apartments, and are very well-mannered. They also tend to have entertaining personality quirks - like obsessions with toys, pillows, or shoes. When Rhiannon wants to go outside she grabs a toy or shoe and stands by the back door.

I'm strongly anti-racing, but there are rescue groups that are considered neutral, or are pro-racing. Many of these dogs die simply because they're just not fast enough! (Young, healthy dogs.) There is always a need for homes!

If you're interested in adopting, do a web search under Greyhound Rescue and your state. Rhiannon is from Michigan Regap:
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