Celebrate Shelter Pets Day

November 30 is Celebrate Shelter Pets Day on Facebook.  I think its a great way to shine light on some of the great dogs and cats who are waiting for forever homes in shelters across the nation.  So many people think that the dogs and cats in shelters are there because there is something wrong with them.  If nobody wanted them, then there must surely be a good reason.  This is a complete fallacy.   There are so many animals in shelters who are completely wonderful - they have so much love to give, and just want a forever home.  

I have had many shelter and rescued pets over the years, that it is hard to pick one to tell about.  Katie was my first border collie.  I got her when she was about 6 months old.  She was definitely a diamond in the rough, but with a little patience, and some obedience work, she was by far one of the best pets I have ever had.  One of the problems we had with her was that she loved to jump.  She could jump 6 feet in the air, from a standing start.  Because of this amusing ability, I began going to agility classes with her.  Agility is a competitive sport for dogs which requires them to jump hurdles and climb A-frames, and walk on a balance beam, and up one side of a teeter totter, and down the other side.  She was a natural at it.  The jumps were not very challenging for her, but she enjoyed going over them anyway.  Katie was the kind of dog who was so eager to please that she would have walked through fire if I had asked her to. 

Her best friend, Sunshine, was adopted from a shelter as well.  Sunshine came from a very bad home.  The woman who owned her was a hoarder, and had at least 40 small dogs of various ages.  Sunny came to live with me when she was 3 months old.  She was the sweetest and most loving of dogs.  When she and Katie were outside playing, she would grab onto Katies tail and slide along the grass as Kate was running.  It was probably one of their favorite games.  


Both dogs became my daughter, Allison's best friends.  After my divorce, I was forced to leave both dogs behind with my ex husband, but I knew they would be alright as long as Allison was there to care for them.  Sunshine died 4 years ago, and not surprizingly, Katie died shortly afterwards.  I still miss them.  

If you are looking for a new best friend, I cant recommend more highly, going to your local shelter or contacting a breed rescue, and adopt a pet.  You'll be glad you did. 

Dear Diary........

I sometimes wonder why it is so hard to remember that you cannot always be all things to all people, and one cannot always fix things when they become broken. When my children were small, a boo boo was made better with a kiss, a Barney Band-Aid, and a glass of chocolate milk. As they got older, life’s wounds became more difficult to fix. Now that they are grown, not only can I not fix everything, they don't even want me to try. It’s a hard habit to break, this wanting to make everything better, to check under the bed and in the closets for the boogey man, but I am finally managing. I have my own boogie man to worry about, and usually, it is me.

As a rescuer of unwanted, mistreated animals, I, better than most, know that you can’t always save the ones who need saving, but occasionally, I lose sight of that fact, and find myself knee deep in situations that are of my own making. This week has found me in one of those situations, and I have, with difficulty, extricated myself, but I’m feeling bad. Good intentions were not a good enough reason to find myself in the mess I was in, but it is some comfort to know that I was at least trying to do the right thing. My failure sticks out, to me at least, like a red headed step child. I don’t like to fail, at least when I am attempting to do good, but failure is sometimes inevitable. Maybe failure is my best teacher. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

I brought home a dog that seemed to be in need. She was of a breed that I am not personally familiar with, although much has been written about them in hysterical terms in media, and reported on television. She was of the "pit bull" family. I didn’t know anything about her, but she was stray, and seemed like she needed me, so I welcomed her into my family, with open arms. I named her Angel, and taught her tricks, and loved her as one of my own beloved dog family.


The breed, Pit Bull, isn’t really a breed. It is a group of breeds that also contains a mixture of terrier types, who, for years were bred to fight. There are many other breeds recognized by the AKC who were bred to fight, but the media hype is not about them. I suppose it is because those breeds do not provide the same opportunity for status as so many small minded, ignorant people hope to enjoy. There is not, in my opinion, a bad breed of dog. There are none who, as a whole group of animals, are hell bent on killing people and other animals. Dogs, like people, are individuals, having their own personalities and traits. Not all blacks are stupid, or Hispanics lazy.....these are unfair and incorrect stereotypes. I don’t like stereotypical labels. Not all Pit Bulls are dangerous. Nature makes them who they are; terriers. Terriers have certain traits that make them unique. Terriers typically have little tolerance for other animals, including other dogs. Their ancestors were bred to hunt and kill vermin. Many continue to project the attitude that they're always eager for a spirited argument. What they are not, as a group, is people killers.  Perhaps my error was in not realizing that this is not a breed for me.

I have had in my life, dogs from many of AKC's breed groups. I have had dogs from the Toy Group, the Herding Group, the Sporting Group, and the Hound Group. I call myself a successful dog owner with each of the dogs from each of these groups. I have failed as owner of this representative of the Terrier Group. I think I have to admit that although I admire many breeds from this group, perhaps it is not the group for me. I love all dogs, but perhaps some are better left in someone else's backyard.

The last afternoon with Angel, there was a fight between her and my dog Dixie. Dixie was the only dog in my pack with whom Angel had issues, or perhaps it was Dixie who had issues with Angel. I could not take the time to find out, as I know that these fights would have become more and more vicious, and would, eventually result in serious injury or even death to one of the combatants, and that was not a risk I was willing to take. After I had regained my composure, and was able to drive, I put Angel in my truck and drove back to the area in which I had found her and found her home. I know that she is going back to her life on the end of a chain. I feel terrible about it, but I can't save them all. Sometimes it is enough of a challenge to save the few I have. I hope that God will watch over this creature of his, and I pray that she will forgive me. I can not save her.

Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference. 

 



   

What's Wrong With Me?

This is a purely rhetorical question.  I'm essentially happy with myself.  Sure, there are a few "tweaks" I could do here and there, but I'm alright with the current state of imperfection.  There is one small problem that I'm taking myself to task for right now, and I don't know if it needs to be fixed or not.  My mother would definitely say yes!

I have moved from the "city" to this rural environment, which I really do love, although not without a few complaints.  My major detraction's are the lack of good paying jobs in the area, and the treatment of the area's pet population.  I'm pretty sure that given a little more time to obtain my degree, the first issue will take care of itself.  It is the second complaint that I am clueless about how to resolve, and that confusion is getting me into trouble. 

Several days ago, on a trip through the town where I live, I almost hit a dog who had wandered into the street.  My first instinct was to stop and catch this pretty little runaway, and then to find her owner.  She was dragging a heavy chain behind her, indicating that she was definitely on the lam from whatever her living environment had been.  I exited my truck and approached this dog, calling sweetly to her as I walked.  She walked slowly to me.  I'm not sure which one of us was more afraid, but in the end, I guess it was she.  The chain she was dragging weighed more than half her body weight.  It had been my initial intention to capture her, and return her to her owner, but after I lifted the chain, I had a change of heart.  There was no way I would return that sweet young dog to the people who had kept her prisoner at the end of that chain.  I took her to the police station to leave my name and telephone number, but the police officer with whom I spoke, told me that she was most likely being used to produce fighting dogs.  Yes, she’s a Pit Bull.  The breed is one of the most misunderstood breeds in the world.  

From left to right:  Rebel Lee, Sam, Dixie, Angel, Bear, Bama.  

Pit Bull, Bull Dog, American Pit Bull Terrier, whatever you want to call her.  Just the sight of her strikes terror into the soul of the person viewing her, simply because she is who she is.  So far, there have been no glimpses of a blood thirsty, man eating, dog killing machine.  Angel, as she is called, is attention seeking, docile, dog friendly, and cat loving.  I didn't need a 6th dog, but there is no place for her, if not with me.  Shelters in this state are "kill shelters".  What that means is that they kill the majority of the dogs they take in.  Where Pit Bulls are concerned, they kill them all.  This dog wouldn't hurt a fly, yet, "her kind" has the reputation of being killers.  I don't suppose that it ever occurred to anyone to look at the living environment of dogs that are guilty of hurting people to see how they have been raised. I also don't suppose that it has ever occurred to anyone to check the intelligence quotient of the people charged with raising those dogs, or to inquire about the methods used to train them. There are a few hard and fast rules when it comes raising dogs.  The first of these is that a dog’s temperament is 50% from his environment, and the other 50% is genetic.  That having been said, it is important to realize that if two dogs of aggressive dispositions create a litter of puppies, there is a very good chance that most, if not all of them, will have aggressive personalities.  If those puppies are raised by a loving, strong owner, the chances of having an aggressive puppy is lowered.  On the other hand, one of those pups, raised by someone who wants a tough dog to give him status, and has trained it by using harsh methods, tied it outside and otherwise neglected and abused it, will most likely end up being a dog that is aggressive towards people and animals.  Proponents of the breed will frequently point out that even a Chihuahua can be made to be aggressive.

According to research I have done on the internet, this breed has not been bred to be people aggressive.  Even in the fighting ring, dogs that show aggression toward the people “handling” them, are culled (translated as shot).  Their European counterpart, the Staffordshire Terrier, was known as the Nanny Dog because of their devotion to children.  

If you are interested in learning about the Pit Bull Terrier, or are interested in obtaining one as a pet, this web site has some very useful information.  http://www.pitbullsontheweb.com/petbull/breedinfo.php

In the meanwhile, I am looking for a good "indoor" home for this very sweet girl.  I will keep her safe until I can find a good home, with strong, knowledgeable people, who will love her for the rest of her life.  She wants nothing more than to have her belly rubbed, or to lay with her head on your lap.  

Ahhh....Lottery!!!

I lived in Pennsylvania for 40 years, and they have a state lottery.  There were many times when the prize was in the millions of dollars, and being an adventurous person, I have paid my share of money to be considered for the top prize.  There have been many opportunities to ponder what I would do if I could just be lucky enough to win. 

Here is my list:

I would buy a modest home.  I hate housework and love people.  I have no need for a formal living area, or a fancy dining room.  I only need comfortable living space for my family and friends.  I would, of course apportion it to be comfortable for my pets.  I've always wanted a kennel room so that my dogs could come and go as they pleased, without having to worry about their safety.  I need a huge, fenced in yard, in which they could play.  I'd like an in ground swimming pool too.  That would be for me to play in.

I would love to have a nice car, and a truck too.  I don't need anything fancy. 

I would donate large portions to private animal rescue groups, and to private groups that help needy people. 

I would donate money to a college to help a needy person attend college.

I would pay my bills.

I would put a large portion of money in trust for my children, nieces and nephews, and if I ever have any, for my grandchildren.

I think that just knowing I had the financial freedom to do whatever I wanted to without considering the price would be winning enough.  I cant imagine not worrying about money, but it would be nice, wouldn't it?     

Growing Up

I am a terminal child.  The issue is not that I can't portray myself as a mature woman of a certain age, or that I can't conduct myself in a dignified manner, but I prefer to retain my many childlike qualities. 

In the first place, I'm not sure what acting my age would entail.  Do I have to stop laughing and start being serious all the time?  I don't think I can do that.  Should I look stern all the time, instead of smiling?  I cant do that either.  I am constantly shocked, after looking in the mirror at the face peering back at me - who is that old woman in the looking glass.  It certainly cannot be me. I don't remember my hair turning gray, or my face beginning to sag, or those wrinkles folding into my skin.

I see myself as a young woman in my early 30's - inside my head, that is who I am.  OK, I know my joints hurt a little more today than they did yesterday, and my clothes seem to have shrunk while hanging in the closet, but its not the result of anything I did.  It just happened, by no fault of my own.  I know a lot more than I used to, but I go to college and intelligence is bound to happen when you pay attention.  I have some "life experiences" that have made things easier for me than for my classmates, but that doesn't mean that I'm older.  It just means that I have experience that comes from living a rich, full, life.

I prefer to say what I mean and to tell the truth, and if you ask me my opinion, you had better be ready to hear what I have to say.  Sometimes the inanity of a situation cancels my ability to remain politely tactful.  Sarcasm is my favorite weapon and my favorite kind of humor, but I'm generally a cheerful, happy, young person at heart.  I guess, in Jimmy Buffet's words, I'm growing older, but not up.  I like the words of Peter Pan too...."if growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I wont grow up, never grow up, not me!!"

God Sent Me A Miracle

As we go through our day to day lives, it's sometimes easy to forget that there is someone above who cares about us, and can help us over the rough spots.  It was for me, anyway.  Lost in misery, I almost made the biggest mistake of my life, and this is the story of my miracle.  Yes, there are animals involved. 

I moved to Pennsylvania when I was a young teenager.  I had bounced around the country with my family, and when we moved to the suburbs of Philadelphia, it became my home.  I grew up through the rebellious years, and into adulthood as a northern girl.  I met and married my husband and we had three children.  After 30 years of mostly rough times, I discovered that he had been unfaithful to me many, many times, and that my children had not only known, but had been forced to keep the secret of his infidelity.  I decided that it would be best for all of us if I simply moved.  After 4 months of separation, I made the decision to move back "home" to my roots, and to my mother. 

It was a huge culture shock for me, after living in the big city.  It was all so different, and I missed my home so badly.  But, it was time to move ahead.  After six months of working as a school bus driver, being paid so much less than I had been paid up north, I decided to take a job at Walmart instead.  The only position that was available was stocking food shelves overnight.   I quit my school bus driving job, and started working as an overnight stocker.  

One night on the job was enough to convince me that I had made the wrong decision.  I hated the job.  I could not lift the items they expected me to lift, and I could not work at the rate at which they expected me to work.  It was a complete and total nightmare, but it was the only job I had, so I dutifully appeared at the Forest store, on time, wearing as cheerful a face as I could muster.  From February to April, I did nothing more than work, sleep, eat, repeat.  My days off were spent in a fog.  I was so tired I could not function.  I was depressed.  

Easter Sunday, I attended church with my mother.  I left her house after dinner, and went home with all intentions of sleeping before going to work, but sleep just wouldn't come.  I felt ill and depressed.  As the time for my departure for work came closer, I became more depressed.  I just couldn't do it.  I could not make myself go into work.  I hated the job, I hated most of the supervisors, and I hated the work, so I called and reported off.  I thought that would make me feel better, but I still had to go to that job the next night, and the next night and on and on.  I began to think about my future, and I realized that there wasn't one.  I had spent my retirement fund the previous year - it cost money to move my meager belongings 1200 miles from the only place I had ever known as home, and I had to buy a car.  

My day to day existence was dependent on the small salary I drew from Walmart.  I can't begin to describe the turmoil I went through that evening.  It was a long night filled with thoughts such as, "if Walmart is all I have, then I have nothing at all".  Finally, after tossing and turning, and lots of crying and pleading with God, and receiving no answers, I decided that I simply could not endure one more moment, feeling as hopeless as I was.  I decided that death was the only answer.   

I got out of my bed, where I had been laying with my two dogs, Sam and Lily, and walked to the kitchen for a glass of water, and the bottle of aspirin.  In the dark, I poured out a handful of pills, and walked back to the bedroom.  Laying there, I tried to conjure up the courage to follow through with my plan.  I had the desire, I had the means, but I lacked the courage to put my plan into action.  

I felt so full of despair, and just at the exact moment when I was finally ready to put those pills into my mouth, I heard the slap of the dog door I had installed in the back door of my trailer house, and then, I heard a sound I had only heard once, years ago.....it was the cry of a baby rabbit in distress.  There was a flurry of activity - Sam and Lily, were instantly alert, clamoring to come out from under the blankets, the soft thud of a cat jumping up onto the bed, the growl of another cat......What in the world was going on?  I poured my handful of tablets onto the night table, reached for the bedside light, and adjusted my eyes to the glare.  Now, there was a bunny loose in my bedroom, and the cat, Riley, was perched on top of my dresser, preparing to pounce on his prey while  Buster, my other cat was in full hunt mode as well. Sam and Lily were frantic to find this soft, innocent creature but were entangled in the blankets and couldn't get loose. 

I couldn't very well put my plan into action with all this commotion going on.  So, out of bed I came, tossed all animals out of the bedroom, and closed the door.  Now, the scared rabbit was nowhere in sight, and I really didn't feel like looking for it, but the animals, all combined 40 pounds of them, were threatening to break down the door, so I had to do something.  I would simply find the baby bunny, put him outside, and then I could take my own life.  Finally, I walked to the door, and grabbed Riley, slammed the door with the other three pets on the other side, and told him to find that blasted bunny.  He stalked and sniffed, and finally his body language told me that he had indeed found it.  It was huddled behind a bookcase.  I blocked one side, and managed to find a small box, and shooed it inside.  He was a tiny little thing, and scared to death.  I opened the bedroom door, and as I was leaving the room, en route to the front door, my other, not too intelligent pets rushed in.  

I went to the front door, and released the rabbit, and went back to the bedroom, into chaos.  Sam and Lily were sniffing around, and rushing from one piece of furniture to another, whining and growling.  Buster and Riley were sulking, and for the rest of the night, it went on like that.  One dog would report that he had found the bunny, and together they would attempt to squeeze under pieces of furniture they could never hope to squeeze under.  I had managed to remove the bunny, unharmed, without my pets knowing about it, so for the remainder of the night, the reports of bunny sightings continued.  

In the hours' time that it took me to find the bunny, remove the bunny, and calm everyone down, I had forgotten my feelings of despair.  Even then, laying in my bed, I was pretty sure of what had just happened - God had sent my cat, Riley, into my house with another choice for me.  I chose life.  I finally slept that night, but not well.  I awoke the next morning with a plan.  Education was the answer, not death.  I called the college I now attend, and set my plan into action, and I have never looked back.  I worked at Walmart for just over a year, hating every second of it.  Each time I wanted to quit, I looked back on that night and realized that I wasn't going to be there forever.  I only had to keep that job until I finished college. 

I'm one short semester away from finishing school, and moving forward.  I can't seem to find a job anywhere, now, but hopefully, soon I will be able to use what I have learned.  My most important lesson has been that you don't know how strong you are, until you are called upon to be strong.  It's been a hard path to walk, but I know it was a journey that God wanted me to take.  He gave me a calling to care for His creatures, and then He sent his creatures to take care of me.  I'm grateful.      

I'm writing this blog today because there are so many other things that I don't want to do.  As a college student, I am faced with deadlines that, if attributable to classes and classwork that I really like, and want to do, I can meet or exceed with glee.  I have to admit, at the risk of giving my Computer Technology instructor a big head, I love this class that requires me to bang out my thoughts on this blog site.  Besides being an over the top, no holds barred, animal lover, the only activity that I love as much, is playing on my Dell, and learning about technology and computer stuff.  I'm already way ahead of my blogging responsibilities, and could actually take a week or two off, but if I do that, I'm going to have to work on Accounting, or write that comparison/contrast paper about sloppiness versus neatness.  I don't know anything about sloppiness, so I don't want to write that paper yet.


I'm good at thinking of other things to do instead of what I'm supposed to be doing.  Instead of homework, today, I went to Brandon on a wild goose chase.  I knew it was going to be a dead end before I left, but I went anyway.  It was better than doing what I was supposed to.  I always find ways to get out of my truly important work.  Then, when I'm close to the deadline of when its supposed to be done, I panic.  Sometimes I just kick into high gear and get it done, but other times I get grouchy and whiny.  

I think, maybe, I have ADHD because I'm so easily distracted.  Sometimes when I am busy studying, I walk into the kitchen for a glass of tea, or a snack, I'll see the dishes in the sink, and can't stop myself from putting them in the dishwasher.  They weren't all that important before, when I put them in the sink, but now that I'm avoiding school work, it makes all the difference in the world that they get put in the dishwasher, and that the counters get wiped off.  Then, sometimes, I can go back to my office and do school work, but if the assignment is particularly unpleasant, I have a hard time making myself go back to work.  I'll see a dish towel on the counter and know that it surely needs to be in the washing machine, and then suddenly, I'll realize that there is a whole load of clothes in the dryer, and before I know it, I'm folding and putting up, and then, of course, the bed that never got made this morning is sticking out like a red, sore, thumb. 


So far today, I've been in Brandon, gotten my whole house cleaned up, written my blog for 4 weeks from now, but I still haven't done my accounting homework, written that dumb English composition paper, my speech outline, or my medical transcription.  What I need to do is find something that I find more objectionable than those college courses, so that I'll be forced to use one of those school assignments as a way to avoid doing the really objectionable task.  I love college, but I'm ready to be finished with it.  I'd rather that someone else take these classes, (except Computer Technology, of course) and just give me the grade.  I'm smart enough to get the good grades myself, but I'm tired of doing all the homework. 

I've been thinking a lot about retirement lately. I'd like to do it eventually.  It's going to be hard for me because I spent all my retirement funds when I divorced my husband and moved to the south.  I would like to think that someday I can buy myself a little piece of land, with a house or a trailer on it.  My cats, dogs, and I could happily live out the rest of our lives. 


When I was a teenager, way back in the '70's, communes were a big deal.  The big hoopla was about living off the land.  I guess that's one reason I moved to the south.  Southerners have been living off the land for centuries, haven't they?  I'm not great at gardening.  I usually manage to kill the real plants, while nurturing the weeds.  I think if I just let it all grow, by the time the vegetables begin to bear fruit, I should know the difference.  Then, of course, Ill have to learn how to "put up" vegetables.  Maybe, since I'm done blogging, I should Google "putting up vegetables".  That subject has got to be better than studying accounting.

"Hello!!!  My name is Brenda and I'm a 'Netaholic'".

I jokingly uttered those words over 25 years ago, and I haven't found a fix for my problem yet.  I don't know if I want to find a fix.  I love the internet!!!  My life is generally an open book, and here are a few things that people should know about me.


1.  If you haven't realized it by now, I LOVE dogs and cats.  I can't imagine my life without some of each in it.  It's not enough for me to be interested in mine.  I'm interested in yours too.


2.  I don't particularly enjoy organized sports (College Football, NFL, or Baseball), but I really like College Softball, (fast pitch only, thank you).  My daughters played on Jr. Olympic level, travel teams when they were younger, and I was their biggest fan.  I like to watch college world series games to see the level of play.  I suffered symptoms of withdrawal after they graduated from high school and college, (respectively), because I actually had to cook meals during what had been softball season, and I didn't get to travel out of state on the weekends for their tournaments anymore.

 

3.  Although I understand and agree with the concept of hunting (a way to thin the herds so the animals don't starve over the winter), I can't understand the hunting mania that seems to exist in some areas.  The first time I heard that there was a weekend set aside so that youngsters could go out and hunt, I was astounded.  I said, "hmm....just what we need.  A sanctioned weekend to take kids out and kill things".  I also don't understand "cammo" as an everyday wearing apparel.


4.  I love to crochet, although in the 40something years I've been doing it, I can't say I have ever made anything that anyone could wear.  I like to make afghans for people.  Some have told me that I should sell them, but I make things from my heart, and if I am moved to give someone a blanket that I have made, it is because it is a gift that comes from my heart.  There are actually stores that I cannot go into without "adult supervision" because of my love of crocheting.  Entry into any store that sells upscale yarn or fibers requires me to relinquish my bank card and wallet to a responsible companion to prevent me from spending hundreds of dollars on yarn that I don't need.  I'm powerless to resist the allure of pretty colors or interesting textures.  I just know that I could make something really "neat".

 

5.  I must be really disorganized - I constantly lose things.  I sit something down in the kitchen, return to that room 15 minutes later, and can't find it, IF I can remember what I was looking for in the first place.  I recently went on an OCD fueled clean up binge.  I tossed things I hadn't used in a year, boxed up things (with labels on the boxes, no less), arranged, rearranged, sorted, sifted, and generally got rid of everything that I didn't deem totally necessary, in an effort to dejunk and declutter my home.  I hoped it would help keep me from having to tear my house apart the next time I wanted to find something.  You be the judge...I put my cell  phone down yesterday and.....well, does anyone know where I put it?  I can't find it anywhere.  I even checked inside the freezer and refrigerator.  I know for a fact that the next time I'm looking for something, which could be at any time, I'll find that cell phone.


6.  I love chocolate.  I have even gone to the extent of trying to convince people that chocolate is good for you because it comes from a bean, and is therefore a health food.  How can you argue with that logic?  It's only a matter of time before the medical community recognizes chocolate as the healthy food that it is, and gives it its due.


7.  I believe that there is no "right time" to have mid life crisis, and I don't think you have to be done having mid life crisis by any particular age.  I, personally, began the phase of mid life crisis when I was in my 30's, and have continued to be in that stage of my life into the present day.  I don't feel that I have done it right yet, and so, I will continue until I'm convinced that the job is finished.  One example of my crisis stage includes the time I "had to have" a Jeep Wrangler as my personal vehicle.  My ex husband declared it to be the most impractical vehicle he had ever seen, but I was not deterred.  He stated that with three children, all of whom were in school, that the last thing I needed was what could basically be described as a two seater vehicle.  How was I going to fit the family when we all had to go somewhere?  My answer was that I drove a 72 passenger vehicle for 40 plus hours a week, and when I was in my personal vehicle, the last thing I wanted was a child, or children, sitting behind me, asking if we were there yet.  If we had to take the whole family, then we could use his van.


8.  I love to read but have gotten lazy.  I purchased my first Ipod about 10 years ago and subsequently discovered a website (www.audible.com) from which you can buy audio book downloads.  For a membership fee, you can download just about any title or author you can think of, and then listen to it as an MP3 file.  The books come in two types........either abridged or unabridged.  I always chose unabridged since they were longer.  I could plug in my headphones, and do housecleaning, or yard work, and listen to my book at the same time.  If you love to read but don't feel you have sufficient time to do it (gee, why would a college student have time to pleasure read?)  I recommend this website with all my heart and soul.  If anyone ever wants to buy a gift for me I always request that they buy me a gift certificate from this site.


9.  I love the Caribbean.  I love everything about the tropics except I hate sand.  I lived an hour and a  half from the New Jersey shore for most of  my life, and even went to the beach sometimes, but oh, dear, how I hate getting sand on me, and in my clothes and in my hair.  I can't stand the stuff.  And I'm afraid of "water critters".  When I was 13 years old, I saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time.  It was dusk when I got my first view of the ocean, and the tide was coming in.  In the failing light, the breakers had an iridescent look to them and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  Later, the next day, I was floating near the lifeguard stand, and a man next to me dove down into the water.  When he surfaced, he brought with him an enormous horseshoe crab, and all I could think of was that, had I not been floating, I could have stepped on that ugly thing.  From that day forward, Ive been scared of whatever might be floating in the ocean.  I love to sun on the beach, and frolic in the waves, and I even like to snorkel, but always with my heart in my throat because of what could be down there with me.  My favorite way to enjoy the ocean, is on a party boat, with a rum drink in one hand, or on a double hull catamaran, riding the waves.  If I had been introduced to the Caribbean at a younger age, I probably would have found a way to move there and live my life selling snow cones to "snowbirds" on the beach.


10.  I love Mississippi, but one day, I want to go home to Pennsylvania.  That is where my heart is, and it's where my children are.                     

As I have migrated through my half century of life, I have often been struck by the things that we need but don't have.  I wouldn't mind getting rich off of the fruits of my thought processes, but I'd be happy just to have some of what I think we really need.  After all there are people making money by inventing and marketing things that we don't need, like the pet rock, for instance.  I've actually had a few fruitful thoughts before but I apparently articulated them a little to loud, in the midst of too many people, and from out of the blue, my ideas ended up on the marketplace shelves, and no money landed in my pockets.  I was once at a dog show and wished out loud that I had a stroller type contraption in which to carry my two tiny, but very heavy, Miniature Pinscher dogs.  Before I knew it, dog strollers were being sold from within the pages of Dog Fancy magazine, and soon, were on the shelves of pet supply stores.  If I can give someone a great idea to make something that I can actually use, I'm happy.  So here is a list of things that I would invent if I knew how to do it.




1.  A love seat sized computer chair.  Why do we need a double seated piece of office furniture?  The reasons are simple.  Parents can spend more time with their children, nurturing them, while they do work, or play on the computer.  Helping that same child with homework would be so much easier if only there was another seat in front of the computer screen.  Pet owners like me could spend extra time with Fideax or Fluffy (who are always clamoring to get up in my lap as I attempt to do homework).  My Miniature Pinscher, Sam would love nothing better than to curl up next to me, as I attempt to do online accounting, but my old computer chair, while comfortable, is definitely a one seater.  My legs just aren't long enough to provide a flat, unsloped, surface on which he can lie as I am sitting in perfect typing position in front of the keyboard.  A love seat on wheels, would be perfect.  And while we are at it, how about, lets put cup holders on our new chair.  Someone, please make one.  I don't need a leather one.........I'd actually prefer a pretty fabric covered one, with some padding in the seat.  I sit in front of the computer a lot and I could use a little luxury. 


2.  We need an alarm clock with a remote shut off for people like my daughter and sister who just can't seem to get the hang of waking up to an alarm clock, without hitting snooze and going back to sleep.  My idea calls for a wireless pressure pad that needs to be placed some distance from the alarm clock.......under the bathroom floor mat would be a perfect place.  In my experience, once I've had to stagger to that room to perform my morning rituals, I'm sufficiently awake to realize that morning has arrived and isn't going to go away, no matter how much I want it to.   The idea is that the alarm will not shut off unless a lot of pressure is placed on this pad, therefore, the only way to achieve peace and quiet is to get up and shuffle off to the bathroom and stand on it.  I think it would be a great selling item on college campuses.


3.  I would love to have a slightly modified version of a hospital bed table.  The one I'd like to modify is that table that rolls on wheels, the top of which hangs across the bed so that a patient can have easy access to his magazines and other necessary items, plus provides a place on which to put his dinner tray.   Go into any hospital room....they all have them.  I need one modified for use with my laptop, school books etc. for while I'm studying in the living room.  What I would want is a drawer for pens and pencils, tic tacs, and other sundry study items.  I could slide the base under the end of the couch, so that the table would be in front of me, lap top opened, and ready to finish my English Composition assignment.  It would be nice if on the half that doesn't hold my laptop, there was a book stand to hold my text book, opened to the exact page my assignment was on. 


I truly believe that if I need these things, that others probably need them as well, so someone needs to get busy inventing them.  I'd like to be the one with the patents, but since I don't have the first idea of how to build anything, I'd be happy if someone else would build them, and I'd buy them.  I think that any of these things would improve peoples lives.

My Calling In Life

I’m sitting here in my small study and I’m surrounded by love.  It’s not the kind of love that most people think of.....the love I’m surrounded by has four feet, fur, cold noses and, well, you get the point.  They are my dogs.  Bear, Bama, Sam, Rebel, and Dixie.  Those are the ones at my feet.  The ones on my desk are furry, cold nosed and have multi feet as well......they belong to the feline portion of my family.  Jack and Max are brothers, Sassy was a throw away who was lucky enough to be found by me, and Riley and Buster; my hero's.  I ask myself tonight (not the first time this question has occurred to me) why am I sitting here, barely able to pay attention, much less bills, when I could be living the good life.  What is my higher purpose? I'm attending college to make my life better, but it should be better now.  Why am I a rescuer and not a veterinarian? 

The simple answer is that I love animals.  This is a relatively new thought for me.  When I say new, I don't mean just yesterday.  I was probably in my 30's when I decided that there were enough people saving people and just not enough of us helping animals.  I’ve spent over half my life taking care of animals that other people have thrown away.  I don't understand people at all.  Dogs and cats......I totally understand them.  They are pure love.....unwavering, unconditional love.  There has never been anything that I have done that was worthy of a dogs sneer or a cats disdain. Whatever it was that was done is forgotten and never brought up again.

I'm not a veterinarian, and never will be one, but I know a lot about dogs and cats.  I know that I dont know it all, and never will.  Life is my teacher and I never miss the chance to learn something new.  I remember when I was a child of 7 or 8, when my friends were outside playing, I would be curled up on the bed with an encyclopedia, looking at photos of dogs.  I remember the books I read as a child; they were about animals.  So, why didn't I know when I was younger that my passion, my calling in life, is having dogs, rescuing dogs, caring for dogs, talking about dogs, or anything having to do with dogs?  I think that God has given me this calling, as some are called to medicine, or ministry, or any number of things that God calls us to do.

I'm blessed with three beautiful children.  I don't know if I was the world’s greatest parent, but they didn't give me an owner’s manual for raising kids.  The one thing that I know I did right was to instill in them the love of animals and the knowledge that we have to care about the animals that God has given us.

My youngest child, Allison, when she was 8 years old, reduced the entire veterinary staff at an animal hospital, to tears with her words concerning an injured cat she had found one cold December day. He was an intact stray who had been hit by a car as he attempted to cross the road.  After taking him to the vet’s office, and being told that he was very sick and that there was nothing that could be done to make him better, my sweet little girl made the decision to send him off to live with God.  Standing beside the cold metal table, holding his head in her hands, Allison said "I think the worst thing in the world would be to live with no one to love you".  The tears flowed freely from my dog doctor's eyes, and the technician who was assisting her, stepped away to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.     The lump in my throat grew larger when my child amended her remark by adding "I think it might be worse to die without having been loved by anyone".  When the cat was finally in heaven, or at the rainbow bridge, as we dog folks like to say, my daughter finished crying, and her grief turned to anger at the injustice of the situation.  If he had been altered and loved as someone’s pet, there would have been no reason for tears.  Before leaving the office, she turned and asked the vet if she could come and help her take care of the animals in the hospital to pay for the office visit. The vet, crying once again, told her that there was no charge.

I look back at that evening with pride.  I taught my daughter to love.  The animals taught her to care.  Don't dare, ever, tell my daughter that it’s just an animal.  She knows better.  I have my own beliefs about the care of dogs and cats, but throughout her 22 years of life, she has developed her own soapboxes.  She stands firmly in favor of spaying and neutering.  The topic of outside pets, chained, or in pens, sends her into a tirade.  Pets are family to her and should be cared for as you would your own children.

According to statistics provided by HSUS, in 2009, there were over 4,000,000 animals euthanized in shelters in the United States.  Approximately 58% of them were pit bulls.  According to statistics provided by the same organization, there are between 6 and 8 million pets entering animal shelters every year.  In light of these numbers, I can see no good argument for not spaying or neutering family pets, and neither can Allison.

So, as I jostle my feet on the floor, trying to move a 91 pound Labrador retriever off of my, now numb, right foot, and as I correct the typing errors caused by the playful paws of a tiger striped cat, I realize that I am blessed.  And if I ever grow up, I don't plan on doing a thing differently.  As Alex Caras once said, "animals don't make our whole lives, but they make our lives whole".

Thanks to Leanne Simmons McConnell for making the video "Old Yeller and Friends" at OneTrueMedia.com  for MidSouth Animal Rescue League and for letting me use it in my blog.  There are just not enough homes for all of the pets in shelters.  Spay and neuter your pets and help stop pet over population.  "Until there are none, adopt one".

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

What makes an animal lover happen?

My name is Brenda and I'm a student at East Central Community College.  I'm the daughter of a civil engineer and a hairdresser.  I've lived in Georgia, Mississippi, Utah, Oklahoma and Pennsylvania.  I haven't done all the traveling on my own.  My father, on the road to professional success in his government job, was transferred and traveled a lot.  By the time I was eighteen years old I had been in most of the 50 United States.  The longest time I ever lived in one place, before we moved to Pennsylvania, was 5 years.  I call Pennsylvania home because I finally put down roots and stayed for 40 years. 

Although travel has always been fun for me, moving from place to place, and from state to state, left me rather lonely.  I was one of 5 children and we have remained close, but as I grew and matured, I wanted close friends.  Our lifestyle didn't really support that yearning.  We didn't have Internet, so staying close to old friends was difficult.  My always enduring friends were our pet dogs.  From them I got understanding and unconditional love.  I have learned so much from my pets over the years. 

Elsa is the dog I remember the best.  She was a Christmas gift when I was 11 years old.  Elsa was a mix of a Pomeranian, a Sheltie, and a Chihuahua, as best we can tell.  She was my best friend all through my teenage years.  She had a unique rapport with children.  Although she loved my parents, she was especially protective of my brothers and sisters and I.  She was a small dog, probably only weighing in at thirty five pounds, but she had a lions heart when it came to her kids.  My father, not really a dog lover, once tried to awaken my sister and I from our shared bedroom for school one morning. My father reported that Elsa had been sleeping on the foot of one of our beds, as was her fashion, and when the door opened, she became alert instantly.  As soon as he entered the room, she flew off the bed like she had been given wings, barking and snarling, intent upon attacking him.  He retreated quickly to the safety of the hallway, and she became docile again.  He tried several times to enter our bedroom and was met with the same ferocity.  There were many other instances of her protective nature as we grew up together.  She was never punished for her bad behavior, because my father knew that she would protect us against all odds. 

Elsa was the beginning of my lifelong love affair with dogs.  There have been many others since her brief appearance in my life.  There were also cats in my life, but not until I had reached adulthood.  As a child I was allergic to cat dander, and as we often do when we cant have something, I convinced myself that it was alright; I hated cats anyway.  There came a time when my father accepted yet another transfer to another state.  I was in my early twenties at the time, and had a boyfriend and those ubiquitous beings known as friends.  I had always been a rebellious person and I stood my ground and refused to pack up and move with the family.  My sister had just graduated from the School of Nursing at Villanova University and it seemed like a great time to declare my independence.  With Mom and Dad and my younger siblings off to Stillwater, Oklahoma, I set out to make my mark on the world.  They, of course took my pet dogs with them. As a young woman starting out on my own, I reasoned that it was for the best.  I had friends and a boyfriend and who needed dogs anyway.  Soon, however, I realized that I needed pets of some kind to make my new apartment feel like a home.  I had been surrounded by family members and pets my whole life, and the sounds of my own voice ringing off of the bare walls of my one bedroom home was just too lonely, and so I was soon in search of my first pet or pets, as an adult.  It was a frightening prospect to have someone counting on me for everything but I had a very solid base growing up.  I was prepared for just about anything.  I asked everyone I knew about puppies.  Dad had always just showed up with one  under his coat.  I had no idea where to find the ideal baby.  As always, immediate gratification was my main goal, and no puppy was out there for me, or at least not on that day that I decided to begin, and finish accomplishing this all important goal.  After making several phone calls to friends and acquaintances, shelters, and veterinarians offices, I abandoned my search for the perfect puppy.  I had heard from someone who had been told by someone else that there was a litter of kittens looking for a home.  I made the brief trip to the kitten house, took one look at the innocent kitten babies curled up next to each other in a tangled ball, and fell head over heels in love with not one, but two long haired domestic kittens,  who in the next few weeks would become the loves of my life and the beginning of my love affair with cats.

I look back and think about what a daunting task I had undertaken.  I was barely a baby and I could hardly take care of myself, but here I was making life and death decisions for two of the sweetest cats I had ever seen.  Those first few weeks were full of excitement.  I had never even held a kitten and now I was Mom to two of them.  Murphy, named in honor of Meridian, Mississippi, and Oakie, for Oklahoma, were my fur kids and I wanted to make sure that they had the best of everything.  In the first place, they were, as my mother said, deformed.  They had polydactyl feet.  Poly means many and dactyl refers to digits or toes.....so, many toes.  One cat had six toes on each fore paw and the other had seven toes and eight claws.  I had heard stories about cats destroying furniture by clawing on it, so I taught myself how to clip kitty claws.  I was determined that they be indoor cats, so I had to find some sort of indoor activities for them, so out of my meager weekly income, I bought my first piece of cat furniture.   I was also concerned about discipline.  I  had never disciplined a cat before and I was afraid I would do it wrong.  I know in the first few days after I brought Murphy and Oakie home my vet thought I was absolutely crazy because I was full of questions and he was the only person I knew who could answer them.  I finally got over my jitters and began to enjoy my two babies.  I know I made mistakes but they forgave me, as only a pet animal can.  As they grew and matured I realized that their behavior was more dog like than catlike.  I hadn't known how to raise a cat but I had some experience at raising dogs.  Murphy was great at playing fetch.  Oakie always came when she was called.  I have some very fond memories of my first cats.  They will stay with me forever.