So You Think You're Not a Socialist

Socialism is a term that has come up more in the past few months because we have a self-proclaimed democratic socialist running for president.  You say you don't believe in socialism?  Okay then.

Your kids can no longer go to a public school.  We taxpayers pay for that privilege even when we don't have kids of our own.

Forget about calling 911.  I've never had to call the police for help, and my house hasn't burned, yet I pay my taxes to ensure that you're safe.

And speaking of being safe, who do you think pays the salaries of our men and women in the armed service?  25% of my taxes do.  And I gladly pay for their benefits after they leave the service too.

Wanna mail a letter, or get packages delivered right to your mailbox?  I guess you could count on UPS or FEDEX from now on, but the US Postal Service is taxpayer funded.

Socialism isn't facism.  It's not communism.  It's a concept that we've already embraced where we all pitch in a portion of what we have to ensure that the entire community is educated, safe, and well fed, whether they paid or not.

Oh yeah.  In case you want to leave the country to avoid socialism, better not use a road.  We paid for those too.

 

Saying Goodbye

Meep died yesterday.  I get a little sappy and say that she crossed the rainbow bridge, because I love the prose of the same name.   And, just like I have for every other cat that has passed on before her, I tell her story so I don't forget.

Meep was found wandering the streets of Detroit Lakes, MN alone and too young to be weaned.  The woman who found her brought her to The Marshmallow Foundation because her teenage daughter worked there on the weekends in the cat room.  The shelter was overflowing at the time.  There's room for about 65 cats, and there were about 80 awaiting adoption, so Meep went into a kennel with 4 or 5 other kittens.

My first day at the shelter was orientation day.  I noticed a kitten that looked sick, with a runny nose, and an eye that was clouded over.  The shelter director told me that this was Meep, and she had lost the sight in one eye because of a respiratory infection, something all too common in shelters.

For several weekends volunteering, I spent hours cleaning cages and feeding cats.  There was little time to anything but pull the cats out of the cage, remove their bedding, change their water, bleach, rinse, repeat.  But Meep was already the darling amongst the crew, and several employees expressed interest in adopting her.  I even made a video of her at the shelter just because she was so darn cute.  Teeny tiny, she still managed to stand her own with cats 10 times her size.

The next weekend, she was gone, and I was secretly disappointed.  Then I learned that she had gone to a foster home until she could be adopted.  She continued to get sick, and living in a shelter wasn't safe for her or for the other cats.  I made my intention to adopt her known, and as soon as I moved into my new home, I arranged for her foster mom to bring her to me.  Turns out her foster mom is my next door neighbor, on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere!

2.8 pounds.  That's how much she weighed when I got her.  And she had gained weight during her stay in foster care; she was just a tiny thing.  About 10 days after she came to live with me, she got sick again.  More antibiotics, with a dire prognosis.  But she bounced back.  I had the joy of watching her play for the first time, and run through the house chasing her brother and sister.  And then I'd look down to see her at my feet, wanting to be picked up and held.  Always on her back.  She loved being rocked, and when she reached 4 pounds, I danced with her in the kitchen.



But always, she'd get sick.  Soon it was every day, for hours at a time.  She would breathe fast and loud, and no amount of shower steam seemed to help.  More antibiotics, steroids, until she was on 4 different medications a day.  Still, she would have periods during the day when she could breathe, and though she didn't play anymore, she still loved to be held.

Yesterday was like any other.  Her breathing was noisy; had been all night.  She jumped into my lap while I was working, and was content.  Suddenly she leaped straight up and raced out of the room.  By the time I got to her she was having a full blown seizure.  I put her in a quiet place and called the vet.  "Come on in", they said.

She had another seizure on the way there, and a third while with the vet.  At that point, my vet said that her best chance was to take her to Minneapolis, where they had specialists and equipment like MRI machines.  I left with her immediately for the 4 hour drive.  By the time we reached the clinic, she had had 9 seizures, and had a 10th as soon as they got her.  They gave her valium, hooked up an IV, and the doctor met with me.

She had the records, she said, but wanted to hear her history from me from the beginning.  Then she gently started to tell me what the options were, and what the possible prognosis was.  I said, "is it FIP?"

Startled that I would know what that was, she said yes, I really think it is.  FIP is almost impossible to diagnose; it's a diagnosis of exclusion.  So Meepers had already been tested for everything under the sun, with negative results.

FIP is always fatal.  Always.

So I could keep her overnight at the hospital, let them run the same tests she'd already had, then go to another specialist for an MRI to check her brain, but if it wasn't FIP, it was something equally as deadly.  So, the day I knew was coming since the day I adopted her had at long last arrived.  They brought her to me wrapped in a blanket, sleepy from the valium, and obviously traumatized from a day of seizure after seizure.  . I held her as she fell asleep and said my final goodbyes.  The doctor asked if I wanted more time with her; she herself spent two hours holding her dead cat after being put to sleep, so she knew what I was going through.

I was ready.  Meep was already asleep, and as the doctor pushed the syringe full of pink fluid into her IV, just like that, she took her last breath.

After she was gone, the Vet Tech got her paw prints for me to take home.

This morning, I baked the clay with the paw prints, and set it on the kitchen table.  When I came out of my office, Maggie, my other girl cat, was sleeping in the middle of the table next to the prints.  I've never known her to sleep there, but it made me smile.

And this afternoon I noticed the picture on my cat of the day calendar bore a striking resemblance to Meep, but healthy.  I guess it was her way to let me know that she was home, and happy, and healthy.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

 

Does My Cat Like Me?

Dogs are so easy to read; their enthusiasm for everyone and everything is interpreted as love.  But what about cats?  Their reputation for being aloof, solitary creatures makes it hard to believe that they could love anyone.

But cats show that they like us in different ways.

1. Trust.  A cat's belly is their most vulnerable body part.  If a cat rolls over and exposes their belly to you, it means they trust you.  Trust equals love in the cat kingdom.  It doesn't mean that they actually want you to rub their belly, unlike a dog.  Two of my cats love to be held on their back; they love me very much.


2. They have the capability to hurt us, yet don't.  If you ignored my advice and went for a cat's belly, you may have experienced the "love bite".  Biting their human doesn't equal love; not biting hard enough to pierce your skin does.  Biting always means, "I've had enough; don't do that anymore".


3. Presents.  If your cat brings you dead things, they want to feed you.  Food equals love.  If they bring you live things, they are concerned about your welfare.  It's obvious you don't know how to hunt, so they'll start with the basics.  Here's a live mouse.  I'll drop it in front of you so that you can kill it yourself.


4. Using the litter box in the room closest to you.  Okay, so I'm not so sure about this one.  In the human world, going to the bathroom with the door open while talking to your partner signifies that you're very relaxed with each other.  In the cat world, I think they just want to smell their poop.


5. Smell.  If a cat loves you, they love how you smell.  The longer you've gone without showering the better.  And if you go running on a hot day, your shoes are like catnip.  My cat Maggie loves to stick her nose in my ear and lick it.  And my other cats are fascinated with my reading glasses, probably because they smell like me.


6. Marking you as their own.  Rubbing against your legs, rubbing their cheeks on you, head butting; these are all ways of transmitting a cats scent onto you.  It's like hanging a sign that says "My Human - Keep Out".

So how does your cat tell you that they love you?

This is What Donald Trump Spawns

Lest we think that The Donald is an isolated case, look at what's happening in Texas.  Austin is in Travis County, and they have chosen this guy to represent the Republican party.

A look inside the social media blasts of Robert Morrow, the newly elected chairman of the Travis County Republican Party who thinks Rick Perry is bisexual and won't stop talking about politicians' genitals.

Source: The 18 craziest tweets by Robert Morrow, newly elected chairman of Travis County Republican Party - San Antonio Express-News

And if you think that's an abomination, let's look at another candidate that won big in Texas on Super Tuesday.  This woman, who believes that dinosaurs died out because they were just babies on Noah's Ark and too young to procreate, will soon have a big say on the Texas Board of Education.

Other beliefs she has include President Obama having a soft spot for gays because he was a gay prostitute when he was younger in order to pay for his drugs.

I have two thoughts about this.  1.  I'm extremely happy I got out of Texas when I did - Minnesota is a much saner place to live, and 2. the Republican party is going super nova.  Let's hope that it creates a black hole where all these crazies get sucked in to the oblivion.

50 Years Ago - The Blizzard of 1966

We lived in Casselton, ND at the time, where my father owned the local hardware store Coast to Coast.  Our next door neighbors were Bud and Jane Sinner; Bud went on to become the governor of North Dakota.

My father typed up his account of the storm, which I'm lucky to still have in my possesion.  I was only 5, but have vivid memories of the event.

The snow started Wednesday morning, and by Thursday morning there were drifts up to 10 feet high, and the neighbor kids were sledding.  My little brother wanted to join the fun, and while Dad was putting his boots on, Bruce slipped out the door.  The Sinner kids had by that time all gone back inside, and Bruce was nowhere to be found.  Mrs. Sinner said she hadn't seen him, and Dad got very scared, since the blizzard was making visibility very difficult.  Another neighbor thought she'd seen him out front of the house, and Dad saw his boot prints heading into the yard next door.  When Dad caught up with Bruce, he was crying and had enough of the storm.

The wind howled and snow fell all Thursday night and the drifts around the house kept getting bigger and bigger. By Friday morning, we couldn't see across the street, and the snow in the front of the house was about 6 inches below the top of the picture window.

[caption id="attachment_96" align="alignnone" width="185"] Living Room Picture Window[/caption]

My older brother Mick crawled out of a bedroom window and shoveled the front and back doors open.  He managed to keep our exits open until about 4:00 Friday afternoon, when the shovel broke.

That night Mom went to bed anxious that we would all suffocate, and Dad called the mayor of Casselton, Frank Woell, to tell him we might need help before morning, as we were completely shut in except for about 2 feet on the north side of the house.

The next morning we awoke to find that all exits from the house were completely sealed off.  Luckily, the phone still worked, so Dad called for help.  Bud Sinner was the first on the scene, and he started digging.  He finally cleared enough snow from the top of the kitchen window so that he could see in and let us know that help was on the way.

[caption id="attachment_92" align="alignnone" width="300"] Kitchen Window[/caption]

Mom called Mitzi Moos, our neighbor across the street and asked if we could come there once we were rescued.  She had a two story house and wasn't affected by the snow as badly as we were.  In the meantime, our rescuers, all neighbors, tunneled alongside the house until they had one window opened up.  Two of the men went over to the Moos house to make sure that we could get in the door there, and then came back for us, all ready in our snowsuits.  Bud Sinner led the way, but because of the density of the storm we overshot the Moos house and had to backtrack.  I vividly remember sitting on Bud Sinner's lap and sliding down the snow bank to the garage entrance on the ground floor.

By 5 pm Saturday the storm had started to abate, and we went back home.  Sunday people from all over town came to walk on our roof and marvel at the amount of snow.

As kids, we thought it was pretty cool that we could sit on top of the clothesline, but our parents weren't so happy!



 

 

 

What Happens When Your Dog or Cat Runs Away?

For most of us, it's a nightmare come true.  Fido or Fluffy somehow escaped the yard/house and won't come when called.  We might put posters up, offer rewards, or simply hope that someone will find our pet and return them home safely.

But we didn't microchip our pet, because, you know, the chances of it happening to us?  No way!  And we've heard that it's expensive.  And our pet doesn't have a collar either, because we want our kids to run free, unencumbered by tethers, fences, or leashes.

So what happens?  If you're lucky, the police or a good Samaritan will see Fido/Fluffy wandering down the highway and pick them up.  If they happen to be found in Detroit Lakes, Frazee, Audubon, Lake Park, Waubun, Mahnomen Callaway, or Becker County, they come to The Marshmallow Foundation, which acts as the city pound for these towns.  Scared and alone, they'll spend their first 7-10 days in isolation.  You see, we don't know your Fido/Fluffy.  We don't know that they are a member of your family.  We checked for a microchip and a collar, hoping we could quickly reunite them with their family, but they had neither.

We don't know if Fido/Fluffy has rabies.  Every time we feed them, clean their kennel, or try to interact with them, we face the possibility of getting bit.  And getting bit means a possible trip to the ER for painful rabies shots.

We put the word out as best we can, and hope that a loving, responsible, owner steps forward to claim Fido/Fluffy.  Most often, nobody does, and they become available for adoption.  AFTER we invest in rabies shots, worm them, give them flea medications, and sometimes even a spay or neuter if we happen to have extra funds on hand.

But what happens if you do find that Fido/Fluffy has landed at Marshmallow?  Whoo hoo!  I can go get my baby and bring him/her home, right?

Not necessarily.  By law, we must have proof that Fido/Fluffy is up-to-date on their rabies shots.  That means a certificate signed by your vet.  And depending on what city Fido/Fluffy was found in, there might be a city fine that we have to collect.  Finally, we don't board your baby for free - $20 a day barely pays for food, employee salaries, litter, bleach, and 24 hour care.

Now, if you're a responsible pet owner, you'll be happy to pay for the release of your precious family member.  And you might just get that microchip implanted.

Last weekend, I had a frantic phone call from someone whose kitty had been found and been brought to Marshmallow more than a week before.  This kitty had a collar, but no contact information.  This kitty didn't have a microchip, and hadn't been spayed, so she was in heat.  She was still in isolation, waiting for an opening at the vet to get her rabies shots, preventative vaccines, and wellness exam.

When her owner came, she said "that's my Fluffy", and immediately opened the kennel door to pick her up.  I was glad that Fluffy's owner had arrived, but had to inform her that she couldn't just walk out with Fluffy.  First, did she have a rabies vaccination certificate?  No - Fluffy hadn't been vaccinated.   Okay, so we can't release Fluffy to you until she has her rabies shots, which we will arrange with the local vet as soon as we can get an appointment.  Oh, and you also owe the city a fine, plus there's the boarding fee of $20 a day you need to come up with as well.

Faced with a bill over $200, I offered the owner an option to wait until Fluffy was ready for adoption and then put in an application for her.  The adoption fee is just over $100, and well, I've already told you the money we've already invested in Fluffy by that point.

Sadly, this owner wasn't able to come up with the funds for either option.  She literally threw Fluffy back in the kennel and stormed out.

That microchip doesn't seem so expensive now, does it?

Presidential Candidates on Animal Welfare

If you are an animal lover and still undecided on what presidential candidate you favor, this article might help you make up your mind.Facts about the presidential candidates' voting records and positions on animal rights and welfare.

Source: Presidential Candidates on Animal Welfare - Rescue Revolution