A hard to write story …

Posted on January 3, 2015 Updated on January 3, 2015

I am a fair to middlin’ essayist. All you need to do for an essay is to pick one salient point, hammer it home while avoiding bunny trails, and stretch it out for three to five hundred words. On the other hand, I can do a rant, selecting three salient points, drive them home, then sum it all up.

But this type of writing that I am doing here is one I have never had a lot of luck with. The behind the scenes story. I have tried twice to tell it now, and I am still unsatisfied with the progression of it, so you may get it yet again. Nevertheless, I will keep pecking away at it because it needs to be told. It is long, passive voiced and rambling, but I hope you stick with it. It is a tale that needs telling.

Many of my fellow transporters and rescuers will say this is a half-told tale. And they would be right. I just ask them to be a bit merciful if I omitted an important aspect of it. I only have 1200 to 1500 words to get it all out.

Last year I retired from active work in my local congregation, and began to look around for a less demanding place where I could put whatever talents I had to work. Driving is the one occupation that remains, and so one day I accidently stumbled across a group of volunteers who transported rescued animals all over the US. I didn’t know then that was to be my introduction to some of the most giving people that I have ever met. I do not have words that would laud them enough.

I filled out the questionnaire on one national transport site, purchased a couple of medium sized live animal crates and within a week I found myself transporting “Roy”, an older hound that was badly infected with red mange, who was being transported to a safe haven to live out the remainder of his days.

I don’t know what Roy’s history was, but he had evidently had a lot of training, and he endured the transport with a stoicism that was near heartbreaking. With hardly any urging, he jumped into the car kennel as the previous transporter handed him off to me, and rode without complaint to the next point where I handed him off on the last leg to his new home. Roy would have been a perfect match for an old widower to live out their final years together. Nevertheless, I am sure that he is happy in his new home and today is mange free.

The vast majority of the rescue people and transporters are women, though I have met a few men who take the time to alleviate the suffering of those who do not have a voice. The women are outstanding. One that I met went right onto the grounds of a group connected with Mexican gangs to document the abuse of the dogs, and gathered enough information to break up one dogfighting ring.

And when the hurricanes strike the coast, hundreds of these unsung heroes throw transport kennels into the back of their cars and they tirelessly go looking for lost and abandoned pets, finding temporary shelter for them, then photographing each one and putting out flyers in the communities where they were recovered.

However, I did not sign up for that level of involvement. I just pick the dogs and cats up here, and take them there, and often I don’t even know the history behind them. Maybe that is a good thing. It has gotten me involved in local animal control efforts. Here we have a huge problem with feral dogs, and there is not much that you can do for them other than be as humane as possible. Rabies, heartworm, parvovirus and tick infestations are the rule in this part of the world, and the adoption centers and shelters have their hands full. Treating them is not often an option, and as much as I hate it, euthanasia is the more humane method for many of these animals.

But the few who can be adopted out, mostly estrays that their owners hadn’t micro chipped or tagged, do get a chance both in the receiving shelter as well as the many who go to a foster family. The fosters work tirelessly to get their charges rehomed. Moreover, pregnant females invariably find fosters that will keep the mothers and pups together until they are old enough to adopt out. One group of puppies that I was recently involved with were of that type. Now the mother will be treated for heartworm and malnutrition, be spayed, and then the effort at finding her a lasting home begins.

Literally thousands of unpaid individuals oversee all of this. Shelters themselves can only keep the dogs in cages, hoping that someone will come by and take a dog with them. However, their work is mostly in vain. There are more animals than the adopters or sanctuaries can keep up with, so a hard eye has to keeping the more adoptable animals in the forefront, and euthanizing the rest. It is a heart rendering process, and the turnover in shelters is very high.

That is where these unheralded volunteers shine. Breed specific groups that concentrate on one breed cull the pounds and shelters for those breeds. Usually they need a 501(c)3 enrollment before the shelter will release the dog. Again, that is where I come it. One woman I have worked with rescues Bull Terriers. When the pound gets one, either they call her, or she pesters them for their breed list. She will then make the trip to the pound to look determine if the dog is suitable for their program. If it is, she puts a claim on it, the pound keeps the dog for whatever the required period is for the owner to redeem it, and when that time is up, the dog is released to the rescue agency.

Again, that is where I come in. In the case of a Bull Terrier, I pick up the dog from whatever shelter it is in, and transport it to her. Often, this is a 100-mile or more round trip for me. My pay for this is pictures of the dog and its new owner. I am sufficiently and well paid!

Another group takes in pregnant Lab females, provides pre and postnatal care for the puppies, and delivers them to their adopting agencies all over the USA. The puppies are not just given out. The rules are that an adopter gets a home visit first, and then the puppy is delivered. The puppies often travel great distances, such as the latest group that I transported that went to Rhode Island from Texas.

Through a huge network of volunteers, the puppies were transported in ninety-mile “legs” across the US, and spent two nights at temporary foster homes where they were allowed to roam in larger quarters, fed and watered. The foster would let them out to play and potty again in the morning before first light, give them a very light breakfast, put them back into the transport kennels, and help load them on the first leg of that day’s journey.

We can follow their journey via private chat windows that are opened up just for that trip, and it is pleasant to hear each driver make comments on the puppies as they travel. One of the larger males that I had figured out how to open the latch of the kennel, and got to ride in the drivers lap until she could get to a place to pull over and re-secure him. Note to self: Remember to put a handful of tie-wraps in the travel bag.

So there you have it. Some unsung heroes. If you are retired and have time on your hands, and a little disposable income, consider this small effort as an outlet for paying life back.

If wishes were portents

Posted on December 24, 2014 Updated on December 24, 2014

A cool 35°F and gentle breezes greet me this December morning. ISIS kills off a few more Christians and forces their daughters into a proper Muslim marriage. Allah be proud of His little Jihadi’s. But tonight in more peaceful parts of the world, the interstice between Chanukah and Christmas Eve is sundown. One blends into the other with the imperceptible flicker of a candle flame. Dedication and Birth. I hope that it is as portentous as it seems.

Lisdexia

Posted on December 20, 2014

Lisdexia

Most of you wouldn’t notice that I have a type of dyslexia that transposes letters and numbers because I am very careful not to let it slip. But once in awhile the blunders get by me, usually in the form of typos. At least I prefer to think of them as typos.

I really do know the difference between there, their and they’re, but they will slip by my fingers unnoticed, and generally hide themselves in the proofing as well. Twos toos and to’s get me too, and I know the rules for them as well. There are certain number combinations that I always transpose, such as writing 35 for 53, and a few other that sort of come and go.

Dyslexia comes and goes, and I seem to be in a particularly bad phase right now. I do better with longer pieces like this than I do with quick comments on facebook and newsfeeds. I go back and reread my comments later and just cringe.

My blog pieces are not immune either, and I have gone over three year old pieces and found basic mistakes that no one should make.

I don’t know why it is, but if I try to proof a piece as soon as it is written, I will not see the errors, but if I go back a day or two later, the errors seem to leap from the pages. Like most dyslexics, I didn’t do all that well in school, but always tested high on IQ tests, and general knowledge exams. Moreover, I could often bullschick my way through orals and essays. Nevertheless, college did it in as far as education. I managed two years in a small teachers college before throwing in the towel.

I tried again a decade later, and discovered that I am just not going to ever be a student. It was much later in life before I discovered precisely why I had so much trouble in school. However, I also discovered that I am in good company with people like Winston Churchill, Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison and George Patton.

And if you are wondering why I bothered to write this little high school level biography, you are in good company too ….

The Dial on God’s Clock

Posted on December 14, 2014 Updated on December 14, 2014

The First Day, as the sages call it, or Sunday as the pagans call it, arrives overcast but almost warm at 60° (16°C). Snooks arose an hour before I did and already had Kippur the budgie’s bathtub put in the cage and fresh food in her cup. So she was already quite sassy when I staggered bleary eyed into the studio with my morning coffee. She likes some of the You Tube offerings on the social sites, and a few postings on facebook fired her joy of the new day to almost celestial heights.

I had a couple of emails to get out right away, so I still haven’t gotten to the News or the Blogs, though did manage to give facebook a quick scan. But that is ok … I’ll wait ’til the day warms to 70° (21°C) before attacking the yard work. I only have one large branch to fell on the pecan tree, and a few suckers to prune on the acacia. Then dump the pickup truck load of dried river cane from the Sukkah onto the burn pile and put the truck back into storage for winter.

Snooks is in the exercise room where the regular *thump**thump**thump*of her morning jaunt on the treadmill signifies that breakfast is about 40 minutes away. Snookums is a creature of habit, and you can set your watches by her daily routine. Coffee maker starts wheezing and gurgling at 6:30. Dogs are fed at 7:00. Play ball with the mutts until 8:00. Fill the birdbath and walk on the treadmill at 9:00. Brunch at 10:00. The world rotates around her routine. Heaven help the hapless soul who interferes with it. Men and dogs tremble at the thought.

So goes the days and the seasons. Everything happens at God’s appointed times, or moedim as they are called in Hebrew. Night follows day. Day follows night. The trash man comes on Wednesday. The postman comes at 11:00 AM, and UPS comes at 4:00 in the afternoon.

And I set in the studio watching it all parade by.

Good morning!

The Refiners Fire

Posted on December 8, 2014

Some mornings my muse fails me when I sit down to write. However, if I will just put down something, almost anything, the words will begin to flow from my fingertips, surprising me with the results. For some reason, Job’s lament, “What is man that You magnify him, and that You are concerned about him,  that You examine him every morning and try him every moment?…” comes to me this dawn of weak trust. True rest will come for me on that day that I no longer need testing.

Sometimes what I do sucks …

Posted on December 6, 2014 Updated on December 6, 2014

Sometimes what I do sucks …

This was the hardest transport I have ever done. The woman’s pants legs in the photo is the owner of the dog, and she just brought it to me from quite a distance away, and I was going to take him even further to another transporter who would take him further. The kids were in the car crying, mama was crying and the dog had no idea that he was just about to be separated from his pack. Economic conditions had made it nearly impossible for her to keep him.

After half an hour of goodbyes, I led him to the crate in my car, put him in, and started the leg to the next transporter, and eventually to his new owner somewhere in Illinois. We had hardly pulled away when the dog suddenly realized something was wrong and let out a plaintive “yip”. The handoff with the other transporter went well, and I drove home in the darkness, sobered by the unfairness of it all.

Yet, unlike this photo just taken of stray chocolate lab from a rescuer in Houston, the dog I transported was safe, and on his way to a new loving family. I don’t know what the Labs fate was at this point, but he is just sleeping in the picture. I hope they get him. So many endangered pets. So little time and resources.

A Presidential proclamation I can live with …

Posted on December 5, 2014

The White House

Office of the Press Secretary

For Immediate Release

December 05, 2014

Presidential Proclamation — National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, 2014

NATIONAL PEARL HARBOR REMEMBRANCE DAY, 2014 

– – – – – – – 

BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

A PROCLAMATION 

On the morning of December 7, 1941, Japanese planes thundered over Hawaii, dropping bombs in an unprovoked act of war against the United States. The attack claimed the lives of more than 2,400 Americans. It nearly destroyed our Pacific Fleet, but it could not shake our resolve. While battleships smoldered in the harbor, patriots from across our country enlisted in our Armed Forces, volunteering to take up the fight for freedom and security for which their brothers and sisters made the ultimate sacrifice. On National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, we pay tribute to the souls lost 73 years ago, we salute those who responded with strength and courage in service of our Nation, and we renew our dedication to the ideals for which they so valiantly fought. 

In the face of great tragedy at Pearl Harbor — our first battle of the Second World War — our Union rallied together, driven by the resilient and unyielding American spirit that defines us. The millions of Americans who signed up and shipped out inspired our Nation and put us on the path to victory in the fight against injustice and oppression around the globe. As they stormed the beaches of Normandy and planted our flag in the sands of Iwo Jima, our brave service members rolled back the tide of tyranny in Europe and throughout the Pacific theater. Because of their actions, nations that once knew only the blinders of fear saw the dawn of liberty. 

The men and women of the Greatest Generation went to war and braved hardships to make the world safer, freer, and more just. As we reflect on the lives lost at Pearl Harbor, we remember why America gave so much for the survival of liberty in the war that followed that infamous day. Today, with solemn gratitude, we recall the sacrifice of all who served during World War II, especially those who gave their last full measure of devotion and the families they left behind. As proud heirs to the freedom and progress secured by those who came before us, we pledge to uphold their legacy and honor their memory. 

The Congress, by Public Law 103-308, as amended, has designated December 7 of each year as “National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.” 

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim December 7, 2014, as National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. I encourage all

Americans to observe this solemn day of remembrance and to honor our military, past and present, with appropriate ceremonies and activities. I urge all Federal agencies and interested organizations, groups, and individuals to fly the flag of the United States at half-staff this December 7 in honor of those American patriots who died as a result of their service at Pearl Harbor. 

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this fifth day of December, in the year of our Lord two thousand fourteen, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-ninth. 

BARACK OBAMA

To that which is beyond.

Posted on December 2, 2014 Updated on December 2, 2014

In dreams and runes, and the ancient script of Eber, the ketab
merubba, a pathway through the primordial thickets begins to reveal itself. At first the track shows faintly upon the verdant growth, but as it is worn by the passage of a thousand footprints, it becomes a highway to that which is beyond.

Anonymous my butt.

Posted on December 1, 2014 Updated on December 1, 2014

I am feeling a bit hung over from all the ugly news of the last five days. Yet as I look around my newly adopted home, we are light years away from ‘sophisticated’ demonstrations of Wal-Mart, Black Friday and Thanksgiving that the rest of the US experienced. I doubt anyone here owns a Guy Fawkes mask, nor like the rest of the easily lead protesters in the US, would they know or even care who Guy Fawkes was, unless they happened to be British ex-pats. However, it would not surprise me if even the Brits didn’t know the history either. I am still scratching my head over how Wal-Mart and Ferguson seem to be connected in the minds of this new crop of intellectual revolutionaries.

But I guess the mask must be cool on a stick. Another soulless generation has sprung up that believes it is so very deep. Perhaps there are some budding counter-culture musicians who will rise to undeserved prominence as they did in the 60’s. I am so out of touch (by choice, mind you) of trends today. Odd how this cycle of mindless protest and violence erupts every sixty or so years.

I keep trying to stay out of the debate, but it draws me in like a magnet. I want to be like the one neighbor here who used to have a giant illuminated plastic Santa near the gate to leading his ranch, beside it he had a hand lettered sign saying [PUT CHRIST BACK IN CHRISTMAS!], and another sign nailed on the gate post that said, [TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT!]. But ignorance of the human condition is not comforting to me. I do not find comfort with either side. On one side are the Jingoists, on the other the Globalists. Both views are malodorous exaggerations that get people killed by the millions.

Maybe this will be a week of quietness as the rioters have to return to their classrooms or labors. I can’t seem to tear myself away from the newsfeeds. I need to know, even if it is hugely slanted coverage by reporters so full of hubris that they consider themselves gods.

So on this cold and windy December day, inside where it is warm and the coffee is copious, I watch the world outside both my virtual window, and my glass window, and try to make sense out of a world gone mad.

Good morning!