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Fishy fishy.
Just bought this on Ebay for Chloe and Oliver. Heeeeeee.
AND it's justifiable... only $9.99 and 100% of the sale price goes straight to Happy Tails Animal Rescue in New Jersey.
Make it stop.
This is what I have to deal with when I get home from work...
Also, yes, there is a piece of cardboard next to my couch. It is covering up the very loud vent.
Also, yes, there is a piece of cardboard next to my couch. It is covering up the very loud vent.
Mon Petit Chat...
Meet Azrael, named after a combination of THIS & THIS, he was named by Fwiffo but the name was suggested by Savannah.
Here are some pictures and his story:
We adopted him from a farm where my mom rents a storage unit. My mom, in her evil ways, suggested we look at the kittens. I looked at Josh and in a deadpan face said:"Don't worry we are NOT getting any more cats." *sigh* You know, I sometimes hate being such a bleeding heart but I think Bast really likes how we take care of kitties. It seems once we give away one kitty to a good home we somehow have another fall into our laps.
I was seriously angry at the person who had these kitties especially after we brought home Azrael. The momma cat had TWO different litters one right after another. The person told us that the momma is always having kittens and she has to give all the kittens away. (So this cat is constantly pregnant.) She(the person willing to give them away at 6 weeks) seemed to care for them but I am a firm believer if she truly cared she would NOT have let things get to that point. Azrael is VERY CLEARLY emaciated & sick. A six week old kitten should NEVER look this way. In the picture you can see how tiny he is. He has a cold, diarrhea, mites, feas, underweight, a fever & lacking nutrition. You should NEVER EVER be able to see the bones in the face. (Don't worry he is quarantined away from our other kitties. We will be taking him to the vet ASAP when they open) (Here is a comparison of how big healthy kittens should be at 6 weeks instead of the picture of Azrael by Savannah above.)
Since bringing him home Saturday night I have treated him for fleas. I also cleaned out his ears and got rid of the mites. That's always fun. *Rolls eyes* I removed so much gook from his ears due to the mites. His breathing is much better now that I have been cleaning his passageways and treating his infection. His eyes are clearing up and he can almost open his eyes completely! Hooray! His stool is looking & smelling more normal instead of runny and well... lets just say gross.
He eats solids & drinks from his bottle fantastically now. I watched him carefully at the farm to see how he interacted with the mother. He was constantly following his momma to get some comfort or food but she ignored him. The other litter mates were much much bigger than him. It's clear why he doesn't even seem to miss his momma. Savannah has taken to sleeping next to him in a sleeping bag so he has constant company.
At the farm I was torn what to do so I put it out to the universe and said silently: "If he comes to me on his own it's his way of asking for help. That means he should come home with us." As if on cue he came walking to me from afar after I said that in my head.
So now we have a new addition. I am hoping beyond hope that he will make a full recovery & that he doesn't have feline HIV(FIV & FeLV) or feline lukemia. His personality is amazing and his purr is strong.
Remember, please, that in 1997 roughly 64% of the total number of animals that entered shelters were euthanized -- approximately 2.7 million animals in just these 1,000 shelters. These animals may have been put down due to overcrowding, but may have been sick, aggressive, injured, or suffered something else.
56% of dogs and 71% of cats that enter animal shelters are euthanized. More cats are euthanized than dogs because they are more likely to enter a shelter without any owner identification.
Only 15% of dogs and 2% of cats that enter animal shelters are reunited with their owners.
25% of dogs and 24% of cats that enter animal shelters are adopted.
Please Spay or Neuter your pet. It will save literally hundreds of lives. Neglect comes in many forms and letting an animal add to overpopulation is one of them. There are many vets who will do discount spaying or neutering for people who cannot afford it. (All information was found here.)
Sorry to sound like a rant & I wish I could be more eloquent about this. I feel very passionately for those who can't speak. When you have an animal you have made a contract with that soul/being/animal. That soul is giving you a precious gift that you have agreed to take care of. Not living up to that contract or promise to that living being will void that right you have to them. At least this is how I feel.
Meet Azrael, named after a combination of THIS & THIS, he was named by Fwiffo but the name was suggested by Savannah.
Here are some pictures and his story:
We adopted him from a farm where my mom rents a storage unit. My mom, in her evil ways, suggested we look at the kittens. I looked at Josh and in a deadpan face said:"Don't worry we are NOT getting any more cats." *sigh* You know, I sometimes hate being such a bleeding heart but I think Bast really likes how we take care of kitties. It seems once we give away one kitty to a good home we somehow have another fall into our laps.
I was seriously angry at the person who had these kitties especially after we brought home Azrael. The momma cat had TWO different litters one right after another. The person told us that the momma is always having kittens and she has to give all the kittens away. (So this cat is constantly pregnant.) She(the person willing to give them away at 6 weeks) seemed to care for them but I am a firm believer if she truly cared she would NOT have let things get to that point. Azrael is VERY CLEARLY emaciated & sick. A six week old kitten should NEVER look this way. In the picture you can see how tiny he is. He has a cold, diarrhea, mites, feas, underweight, a fever & lacking nutrition. You should NEVER EVER be able to see the bones in the face. (Don't worry he is quarantined away from our other kitties. We will be taking him to the vet ASAP when they open) (Here is a comparison of how big healthy kittens should be at 6 weeks instead of the picture of Azrael by Savannah above.)
Since bringing him home Saturday night I have treated him for fleas. I also cleaned out his ears and got rid of the mites. That's always fun. *Rolls eyes* I removed so much gook from his ears due to the mites. His breathing is much better now that I have been cleaning his passageways and treating his infection. His eyes are clearing up and he can almost open his eyes completely! Hooray! His stool is looking & smelling more normal instead of runny and well... lets just say gross.
He eats solids & drinks from his bottle fantastically now. I watched him carefully at the farm to see how he interacted with the mother. He was constantly following his momma to get some comfort or food but she ignored him. The other litter mates were much much bigger than him. It's clear why he doesn't even seem to miss his momma. Savannah has taken to sleeping next to him in a sleeping bag so he has constant company.
At the farm I was torn what to do so I put it out to the universe and said silently: "If he comes to me on his own it's his way of asking for help. That means he should come home with us." As if on cue he came walking to me from afar after I said that in my head.
So now we have a new addition. I am hoping beyond hope that he will make a full recovery & that he doesn't have feline HIV(FIV & FeLV) or feline lukemia. His personality is amazing and his purr is strong.
Remember, please, that in 1997 roughly 64% of the total number of animals that entered shelters were euthanized -- approximately 2.7 million animals in just these 1,000 shelters. These animals may have been put down due to overcrowding, but may have been sick, aggressive, injured, or suffered something else.
56% of dogs and 71% of cats that enter animal shelters are euthanized. More cats are euthanized than dogs because they are more likely to enter a shelter without any owner identification.
Only 15% of dogs and 2% of cats that enter animal shelters are reunited with their owners.
25% of dogs and 24% of cats that enter animal shelters are adopted.
Please Spay or Neuter your pet. It will save literally hundreds of lives. Neglect comes in many forms and letting an animal add to overpopulation is one of them. There are many vets who will do discount spaying or neutering for people who cannot afford it. (All information was found here.)
Sorry to sound like a rant & I wish I could be more eloquent about this. I feel very passionately for those who can't speak. When you have an animal you have made a contract with that soul/being/animal. That soul is giving you a precious gift that you have agreed to take care of. Not living up to that contract or promise to that living being will void that right you have to them. At least this is how I feel.
help abi help other animals
Money for this fundraiser goes to the Cat Adoption Team- a no kill shelter and to the Dove Lewis Animal Hospital.
Join Abigail's team by donating even a small amount to this excellent cause that helps animals all through portland and the surrounding areas.
http://www.petsinthepearl.com/showTeams.php
Join Abigail's team by donating even a small amount to this excellent cause that helps animals all through portland and the surrounding areas.
http://www.petsinthepearl.com/showTeams.php
The Tale of the Nothing
The Tale of the Nothing
The nothing walks around the campus grounds of the university where he is currently enrolled as a Bachelor of Arts Major. All that he really wanted was a simple life in a simple house made of nipa leaves and bamboo. All that he really wanted in life was to spend afternoons sleeping under the shade of his plants and during the nighttime to play his guitar by the side of a great roaring fire. During particularly hot days he would go out and swim in a nearby stream where along with the carabaos downstream he would wallow in the cool refreshing water. But no. He is in here walking the campus grounds, staring at the sidewalk, gazing at that space where he would land his feet next. He is walking briskly, silently, disinterestedly, and GOd knows what he is thinking.
After several hours of walking the campus grounds, he walks back toward his dormitory where he currently lives. The dormitory is a two-storey complex shaped like a C with sharp, angular turns ( [ ). He enters the lobby and sees the evil smirk of the security guard behind her control desk which faces directly the sofas where guests are entertained in front of the communal television. there's no one there today. He walks past the lobby and into the long corridor towards his room. 141, it says above the door. He pulls out the key from his pocket, inserts it in the vertical hole on the door knob and hears the tiny tumblers go into their places allowing him to turn the key and then the knob with ease. He opens the door and is horrified by what he sees inside.
The giant octopus fills almost half of his room. It's slimy tentacles filling the floor with its shiny mucus like what snails leave behind in their trails only this one is still wet and shiny. The octopus, with its two eyes, stares at him, blinking, conveying the empty darkness from the depths of its being, like the depths of the ocean where it came from - the Pacific.
The nothing screams and wakes up moments later to realize that he has been dreaming all of this. Although which parts were the dream and which parts were reality he's not certain. He rises up from his disheveled bed and looks at the floor to check for slime. Nothing. Everything has been a dream.
And if everything has been a dream, then who is he? Is he also a dream? Can he be certain of his reality? And so asking himself these questions he pinches himself in his right hip. There seems to be something wrong with his flesh for when he looked at his fingers, the fingers which pinched his hips, there is a bit of flesh that came off. He looks at his leg and sees a steady stream of blood flowing down from his leg into the floor where it is slowly collecting into a puddle.
A puddle of blood, he muses, right here in my dormitory room and I'm already late for class. He starts to dress himself and he just lets the wound drip so that he leaves splotches wherever his right shoe lands in the corridor floor. He looks back and feels as if his room is so far away and that he's been walking for miles now and still he does not find the way out of the building. Suddenly cats start to emerge out of the garbage bins and then chases him and so he runs. Dammit, I'm very very late already, he thinks. He looks back to see if the cats are still following him. They are licking his blood off the floor.
Damn cats. I knew I should simply have followed my dream of living in a small hut in my parents' farm. Damn all these ambitions and the demands of society for human automatons, skilled only in doing whatever it is that is told to them. Where's the creativity man, where's the quality, where's the, as Erich Fromm would say it "spontaneous activity" that is the only way that human beings can escape from the totalitarianism of modern existence?
The Tale of the Nothing
The nothing walks around the campus grounds of the university where he is currently enrolled as a Bachelor of Arts Major. All that he really wanted was a simple life in a simple house made of nipa leaves and bamboo. All that he really wanted in life was to spend afternoons sleeping under the shade of his plants and during the nighttime to play his guitar by the side of a great roaring fire. During particularly hot days he would go out and swim in a nearby stream where along with the carabaos downstream he would wallow in the cool refreshing water. But no. He is in here walking the campus grounds, staring at the sidewalk, gazing at that space where he would land his feet next. He is walking briskly, silently, disinterestedly, and GOd knows what he is thinking.
After several hours of walking the campus grounds, he walks back toward his dormitory where he currently lives. The dormitory is a two-storey complex shaped like a C with sharp, angular turns ( [ ). He enters the lobby and sees the evil smirk of the security guard behind her control desk which faces directly the sofas where guests are entertained in front of the communal television. there's no one there today. He walks past the lobby and into the long corridor towards his room. 141, it says above the door. He pulls out the key from his pocket, inserts it in the vertical hole on the door knob and hears the tiny tumblers go into their places allowing him to turn the key and then the knob with ease. He opens the door and is horrified by what he sees inside.
The giant octopus fills almost half of his room. It's slimy tentacles filling the floor with its shiny mucus like what snails leave behind in their trails only this one is still wet and shiny. The octopus, with its two eyes, stares at him, blinking, conveying the empty darkness from the depths of its being, like the depths of the ocean where it came from - the Pacific.
The nothing screams and wakes up moments later to realize that he has been dreaming all of this. Although which parts were the dream and which parts were reality he's not certain. He rises up from his disheveled bed and looks at the floor to check for slime. Nothing. Everything has been a dream.
And if everything has been a dream, then who is he? Is he also a dream? Can he be certain of his reality? And so asking himself these questions he pinches himself in his right hip. There seems to be something wrong with his flesh for when he looked at his fingers, the fingers which pinched his hips, there is a bit of flesh that came off. He looks at his leg and sees a steady stream of blood flowing down from his leg into the floor where it is slowly collecting into a puddle.
A puddle of blood, he muses, right here in my dormitory room and I'm already late for class. He starts to dress himself and he just lets the wound drip so that he leaves splotches wherever his right shoe lands in the corridor floor. He looks back and feels as if his room is so far away and that he's been walking for miles now and still he does not find the way out of the building. Suddenly cats start to emerge out of the garbage bins and then chases him and so he runs. Dammit, I'm very very late already, he thinks. He looks back to see if the cats are still following him. They are licking his blood off the floor.
Damn cats. I knew I should simply have followed my dream of living in a small hut in my parents' farm. Damn all these ambitions and the demands of society for human automatons, skilled only in doing whatever it is that is told to them. Where's the creativity man, where's the quality, where's the, as Erich Fromm would say it "spontaneous activity" that is the only way that human beings can escape from the totalitarianism of modern existence?
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