I have a dear friend who's involved in animal rescue in the Kansas Cities. She sends me pleas from her realm, begging for people to rescue death-row dogs and cats - and there are pictures. It's all so overwhelming, but my dream is to win a zillion dollars, and I'd use it to build the most awesome, well-equipped animal shelter and hire the best people to maintain it.
Dogs need to run. I'd have acreage - fenced and protected (well, we have coyotes and cougars here, so I would never allow the animals to be vulnerable to predators.)
It's just a pipe-dream, but I'd SO love to help the critters that are at the mercy of their dubious owners. If I were in a position where I could take action, I'd grab every single owner of an animal to be surrendered and SHOW them what happens when they give their baby up. I'd force them to look at that wheelbarrow full of snuffed-out lives, and I'd make them watch as that sorrowful load of lost lives went into the incinerator. Maybe then, they'd think a little more about the lives in their care, and a little less about their own big huge important lives.
And I always remember that one well-placed bomb will end it all, for us all. Weirdly, that's a comfort...
As for my fostering - The pregnant female is now Sabrina. And she refuses to use the litterbox. In the next few days, we're going to switch the sleeping arrangement. Sabrina will go into the second bedroom, and Jo and her kittens will have the run of the house.
EDIT: Sabrina is now Sheba (as in "The Queen of Sheba.") She uses the litterbox, and is fiercely protective of the little lives she carries inside her. She now has the run of the house, and Jo and the kitters are in the spare bedroom. It seems to work out better for all of them - Jo was puking blood and stressed to the nines over the kittens and all the threats (my other cats, who viewed the kittens as foreign objects or potential meals.) Now, mom and her kittens are safe in a room where the only intruder will be me, and only because I check on them, give them fresh food and water, and change their litter. They seem pretty okay with the arrangement. Sheba mostly stays to herself, but if one of the other cats gets too close, she'll fight tooth, fang and claw. Which means that only the stupidest of my cats will cross her twice.
Dogs need to run. I'd have acreage - fenced and protected (well, we have coyotes and cougars here, so I would never allow the animals to be vulnerable to predators.)
It's just a pipe-dream, but I'd SO love to help the critters that are at the mercy of their dubious owners. If I were in a position where I could take action, I'd grab every single owner of an animal to be surrendered and SHOW them what happens when they give their baby up. I'd force them to look at that wheelbarrow full of snuffed-out lives, and I'd make them watch as that sorrowful load of lost lives went into the incinerator. Maybe then, they'd think a little more about the lives in their care, and a little less about their own big huge important lives.
And I always remember that one well-placed bomb will end it all, for us all. Weirdly, that's a comfort...
As for my fostering - The pregnant female is now Sabrina. And she refuses to use the litterbox. In the next few days, we're going to switch the sleeping arrangement. Sabrina will go into the second bedroom, and Jo and her kittens will have the run of the house.
Heaven help us all. *g*
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I'm good with that.
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