Thoughts on Gun Violence

And it's happened again.  At least 14 people killed by armed men bent on destruction.  Again, there will be cries of "you can't take away my guns" on social media.  Lots of memes declaring their compassion for San Bernadino and the victims involved.  Tons of political rhetoric around which party is to blame this time.

I have an opinion, surprise, surprise.  My opinion?  We must do SOMETHING.  We must allow Obama to do SOMETHING.  Even if it turns out to be the wrong thing, we must take the first step towards ending this nonsense.  The same folks decrying Obama's softness on the ISIS situation are the the ones that won't allow him to take action on gun control reform.  The same people who claim the problem is mental health treatment are the ones that don't want their taxes to be spent on treatment facilities.

I don't think the entire problem is gun control.  I don't.  I think it's much more complicated than that.  We have raised an entire generation of kids who feel entitled to a trophy when they didn't win.  We have allowed them to sit all day in front of violent video games until their world view is skewed.

We have taught them over and over again that not all people are created the same, and not all people will go to heaven.  Even I, at my age, remember vividly being told by a Lutheran kid that Catholic's were evil because we "worshipped" Mary.  And after moving to Texas, being schooled by a Baptist that the only way to the Kingdom of God was by being saved in a Baptist church.  And the old "we love gay people, we just think that they are sinners" line.

We seem to have lost the ability to think on our own.  When someone you trust says something, you take it as the truth.  And if someone you dislike says something, you immediately discard it as nonsense.  So education is another problem.  Let's teach our kids how to think, not what to think.  And that's not just in school - parents are the biggest influencers.  Along with the curriculum, we need to provide a healthy meal every day.  We need to teach not only reading and writing, but life skills.  When we graduate high school, we should know how to fill out a resume, interview, do taxes, and financially prepare for our future.

So if I were King of the World?  I'd abolish all semi-automatic assault rifles in private hands for a start.  They belong in the hands of the military or police only.  Don't give me the argument that you have 14 rifles for protection - only one can be used at a time.  I'd tighten up the process to get a gun so that it was at least as hard as getting your driver's license.  Yes, criminals would still have their guns, but guess what - the average criminal isn't the one causing the mass shootings!

I would raise taxes and abolish the loopholes that have allowed the wealthiest to not pay their share.  I would use the money to invest in education, and provide a free college education to those that want it as well.  Mental health would no longer be the taboo it is now; proper treatment would be available and the people who have been living on the streets would be treated with compassion.  Drug treatment would be free.  And, I'd make marijuana legal.  It's my belief that drug addicts are born addicts, and may never try drugs if they weren't so taboo to begin with.

Does my opinion make me a Democrat?  Perhaps.  Remember, Lincoln was a Republican; back then the left leaning party was the complete opposite of what it is today.  So I don't think it makes me a Democrat - I think it makes me human.

And Here We Go Again

As I write this, there has been a report of another "mass shooting", this time in San Bernadino, California.  Here are my thoughts.

1. Why aren't we calling these incidents terrorism?  If they were, perhaps they'd get more attention and drive a solution.  Yes, terrorism has a political motivation.  But the shooting at the Planned Parenthood in Colorado Springs has all the signs of being politically motivated, and most of the media is still hesitating to call it what it is.


2. We have a real problem in this country.  What is it that drives human beings to hate enough to kill?  Mental illness certainly could be a factor, but there are disturbed people all over the globe and other countries don't seem to have the problem we do.  Is it poor parenting, or *gasp*, the lack of gun controls?  Before you jump all over me, please note that I'm not stating that gun control is the answer - I'm simply asking the question because I don't know the answer.


3. Any time I ask the question about gun control, I start a firestorm of people insisting that the government wants to take their guns away, or violate their rights to bear arms.  If you ask me, that kind of response is childish; the equivelent of throwing a tantrum in a crowded supermarket.  Falling back on the same old rhetoric just because you saw it on Facebook doesn't do much except raise your blood pressure.  How about suggesting a solution?  We all know what you think won't solve the problem.  What will?


4. I've noticed that the same people who claim that the issue is related to the lack of treatment of mental illness are the same people who don't want their tax dollars to pay for it.

Rant over.  Tomorrow, back to cats.

#GivingTuesday is for the Birds (and the Cats, Dogs...)

Today is Giving Tuesday, a new holiday apparently, where we put our money where our mouth is.  Last Thursday, Thanksgiving, we gave thanks for all of our blessings.  Today, we give thanks and pass it forward.

I'm thankful for Leo and Maggie this morning, both of whom still fit nicely in my lap together, and are helping me with this post.  I adopted them both as kittens from The Marshmallow Foundation in Detroit Lakes after my cat Gracie died at the ripe old age of 20.  They have already provided endless hours of laughter, snuggles, and warmth, and I'm sure will continue to do so for many years to come.

If you want to do your part on #GivingTuesday, but don't know who to give to, won't you consider an animal shelter?  Right now at Marshmallow, an upper respiratory infection is going around the cat room, which means lots of visits to veterinary clinics and lots of medical bills.  Cats Cradle in Fargo is another good option - they take the cats that would otherwise be euthanized and give them the care they need in order to find their "furever" homes.

If you don't want to give cash, there are lots of other ways to give.  Smile, an Amazon.com program, allows you to designate a charity of your choice, and every time you shop, a percentage of the money spent is donated to that charity.

Volunteering your time can make an enormous difference, where that time is spent transporting animals, helping keep the kennels clean, or fundraising.

Donating gently used blankets to a shelter means that a dog or cat has a warm comfy bed for the night.  Even better, if you have mad knot or crochet skills, make some soft mats out of that stash of yarn you have in the spare room!  Mats for Cats will give you some ideas on projects and ways to help.

So today, count your blessings, then count your pennies to see how many you can spare to help.  Every bit counts.

Yes, I'm a Crazy Cat Lady (and Proud of It)

We all know the stereotype - single, middle aged, female with cats.  The title of crazy cat lady is not meant to flatter; the emphasis is usually on the adjective "crazy".

I am single, of a certain age, and I do have two cats that I adopted from The Marshmallow Foundation in Detroit Lakes.  What makes me crazy is that I volunteer my time at the very same shelter!

Friends tell me that they don't understand how I can do it.  "It's so sad", they say.

And sometimes it is.  Today was one of those days.  Yunger, one of the more affectionate cats, has been sick for several weeks with what was thought to be an upper respiratory infection, which is very common in shelter cats and equivelent to the common cold.  He's been to the Vet a couple of times and been treated with antibiotics with no improvement.  He has lost a lot of weight, and can no longer stand or sit.  Still, when I opened the door to his kennel, he greeted me with a virtually silent meow, and struggled to find his balance long enough to put his paws on my chest to be picked up.  I held him several times today, walking around the room petting him, scratching him behind the ears and telling him what a good cat he was.  He would push his nose against my cheek telling me that he heard me.

But comforting a dying cat isn't the really sad part.  Knowing that if the foundation had more donations, Yunger would be in the hospital right now getting fluids, medication, and the necessary diagnostic tests is the truly tragic story.  The wonderful employees and volunteers are even now trying to find transport for Yunger to the Twin Cities, which is the closest veterinary clinic found that would offer no cost or low cost emergency treatment.

Yes, today was a sad day.  But knowing that I was there to offer a little kindness to one of God's precious creatures made my decision to volunteer at the animal shelter an easy one.

**Happy Update:  Yunger made it to Gregory's Gift of Hope, in New Richmond, WI  and is in the arms of caring humans who have the funds to help him.  He's not out of the woods, and his vet bill for one night is already $1200.  If you'd like to donate,  they accept Paypal.

This is What Happy Looks Like

I caught my brother in an exceptionally good mood Friday night, and told him how much I'd like to bring Filly and Lee home (Meep is in a foster home, and thriving there).

"I don't care", he said.  I asked him again, knowing that he was not a fan of cats.  And the answer stayed the same.  Even though we were in public, my eyes got watery enough for the bartender to ask me if I was okay.  I was better than okay.

I didn't realize how lonely I had been since Grace died.  Yes, I'm living with my brother and sister-in-law, and we're having a good time reconnecting with each other.  But there was something missing.

Yesterday I brought Lee and Filly home.  Lee's name has been changed to Leo, although I still call him Lee, and Filly is Abby, although that might be changed to Maggie May.  They both have an upper respiratory infection, which means lots of wet sneezes and goopy eyes and noses.  They're busy exploring; this morning I found Leo on my brother and sister-in-law's bed, happily climbing on my brother to wake him up.  I think a baby gate is in order - nobody likes to be woken up early on a Sunday!  I lived with senior cats for so long I've forgotten what it's like to have kittens, with their rambunctious antics like launching themselves through the air in the middle of the night only to land on your head.

Last night when I went to bed, they both followed me, and immediately settled down; Lee at the foot of the bed, and Filly next to my face.  She wrapped both paws around my neck, and fell asleep with her face on my cheek.  Did I mention that they chose me?

I'm hoping that my house will be move-in ready in 4 weeks.  Drywall taping and texturing is , happening, and after that the flooring and cabinets can go in.  I picked out my paint colors Friday, and my home will be a riot of color - no bland boring white for me!

And tomorrow is the end of the option period for my house in Texas.  They've had it inspected, and so far, no word on more repairs.  There's a water leak somewhere; my water bill went from $49 to $206 in a month.  My only hope is that it was caused by the sewer repair and they take care of it.  But if all goes well, we'll close by December 7th, the day that will indeed live in infamy for me.  Sounds like my Mom's house won't close until then either, since the buyer finally admitted that he hadn't contacted the bank until last week (it's been under contract for 2 months).

So my luck is due for some improving in 2016.  And I think that the two adorable little purring creatures that entered my life yesterday might be a good way to kick that off.

Something Bigger Than Me

Anyone who is friends with me on Facebook knows what an incredibly crappy year I've had.  Totally first world problems, but nonetheless, I've been a stressball all year.  And when Gracie, my cat died, I broke a little.  There are pieces of my heart scattered throughout the universe, never to be found again.

Just like I've done when my other beloved cats died, I went to work.  Physical labor helps me to not forget exactly, but to focus my grief on something I can control.  When Maalea died, I dug a pond in 2 days in the heavy clay Texas soil.  With Sydney, it was a garden in Minnesota on land that used to be a gravel pit.  And so with Grace I needed to find an outlet too.  Enter the animal shelter, with the 50 pound bags of litter, the knee crushing concrete floor, and the insistent meows of 80 cats and kittens wanting to be fed.

I've always known that after my last Texas cat died I'd start over again, with 2 kittens.  And unlike all of my previous cats, who chose me by showing up at my doorstep, I thought that this time I'd choose them.  After all, getting a kitten is a potential 20 year committment, and I wanted to make sure that I chose a kitten that was beautiful, sweet, and healthy.

And God laughed.  I can keep telling myself that I chose them, but the fact of the matter is, Lee, Filly, and Meep chose me.  They crawled into my arms and into my heart at the same time.  Some people say that our pets will reincarnate and come back to us over and over again.  I don't know if that's true, but that broken piece of my heart has a scab on it now, and while it will never completely heal, it's whole enough to love again.  Are they beautiful?  To me they are, although Meep has a cataract in one eye, Filly has more toes than the average cat, and Lee is just another black cat.  Are they sweet?  YES!  Are they healthy?  Not yet.  Living in a shelter is hard on a kitten, and all of them have had their issues, from upper respiratory infections to parasites.  Who knows what issues they'll have in the future; it's a crapshoot at best.

Now, I'm not so fixated on whether my house in Texas will ever sell (it's under contract for the 4th time), or what paint colors I'll use in my new house.  Now I'm impatiently waiting for the day I can take my babies to their forever home.  And what I can do to help the overcrowded shelter continue to help homeless cats and dogs.  It's bigger than me.

Pulling Myself Up By My Bootstraps

I am prone to chronic depression; the kind of long-term loss of interest in anything good not necessarily caused by any event.  I've been treated for it in the past, and told that likely it would be something I'd have to deal with for the rest of my life.

So I met my new Minnesota doc last week and asked for help.  I knew that talk therapy wasn't the answer, but that medication potentially was.  Prozac sort of did the job previously, but only sort of.  I had already done my research and asked about Wellbutrin, which she agreed was appropriate for me.  So I've been on it for 5 days and experiencing some of the side effects like insomnia and dry mouth, which I'm told should go away in a week or two.  It also makes me feel a little hyper, like I drank too much coffee.  But I guess that's a sign that it's working.

In an effort to try and help myself, I'm trying to be more social and give of myself.  I took a painting class last week, and am taking a glass class Saturday.

But the biggest change is my work with the cats at the local pound.  Since I was off last week, I got my training on Friday morning, with a complete kennel cleanout.  By the time we were done I was exhausted - my legs ached, my knees hurt from kneeling on concrete floors, and I was all sweaty.  And I loved it so much I came back the next day.  This time, the head volunteer left the room for long spaces at a time, I think perhaps as a bit of a test.  I must have passed, because she said I could work Sunday morning if I wanted, this time without her.

The shelter has full-time employees that do the feeding, watering, and cleanout every day.  There was only one on Sunday, and if I hadn't been there she would have been responsible for taking care of 72 cats and 15 dogs by herself.  With just a little help, she let me loose on the cats.  I fed them, cleaned their litter boxes, gave them fresh blankets, gave them water, and let them out to play for awhile.  All 72 of them.  While cleaning the lower cages I'd often feel a paw grab my hair from above and pull - not my best hair day.  And I took time out to cuddle most of the cats and kittens, some as young as 1 week old.  By day 3 I was getting to know many of the cats and their personalities.  Jack, who recently had 21 teeth pulled.  His faithful companion Jingles, who never goes far from Jack.  Their owner died and they came to live at the shelter.

Lee, a black kitten that would stand on his back legs with his front on my shoulders when I opened the kennel.  And when I'd hold him he'd just purr away, content just to be there.  I will probably adopt him if he's still there when my house is ready.  Along with Meep, another tiny kitten who is blind in one eye and is cute as can be.  The shelter is trying to raise grant money for the surgery to remove the bad eye.

Zephyr, a Bombay cat about a year old, with fur that looks like patent leather.  When I'd let him out, he'd follow me around the room.  In his kennel, he was very vocal, trying to get my attention.

I came home with my hands covered in scratches, and one on my face as well.  And haven't felt that happy in a long time.  I'm going back this weekend for more kitty loving, and to see who steals my heart this time.