Hello again world!
It was raining today. Big fat raindrops. I love it when it rains. The sound of drops hitting the roof, the slight smell of ozone in the air.
It relaxes me.
And now the crickets are chirping. I came home to Kitty/Nikky waiting in front of our door. Poor thing got wet - an affront to her feline sensibilities, I'm sure (and before ya'll rip my head off for not providing her with shelter - she had our entire screened in back porch to go to. It's dry there).
I opened up a pouch of food - she didn't seem to like it. Made a note not to get salmon and oceanfish again.
Bummed around a bit. Watched some boob tube - King of Queens. Job hunted (the search is neverending).
Which leads me to now - curled up in bed, snug as a bug, and listening to crickets.
It's making me reminisce of simplier times. When I was a kid.
My mother never let me stay in the house - no wasted days for me. If it was nice out, I was outside, terrorizing the neighborhood.
I wish I could go back to those days. When my biggest worry was whether or not I could get away with sneaking in a spider as a pet (...I was a weird kid...). And somehow I zipped right from that to whether or not I was going to have my term paper done in time.
Time seems to fly by so quickly, but two things have remained constant.
Fat raindrops and singing crickets.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Death of the Happy
So, world, tonight was hell.
It started out well enough - I was even downright jubilent as I pranced into work earlier this evening.
And I do mean pranced. I had good reason to be happy! I finally found a hairclip that will hold all my hair in place! All those baby-fine strands that seem to defy gravity and hairspray...finally tucked into place!
I clocked in. Helped a few customers. Ohhed and Awwed at so-and-so's new puppy.
Then guess what happened world? Guess what?
My happy died a horrible and horrific death.
It started simply enough. Nine times out of ten, when a person wants to buy a turtle from us, they have no idea what the hell they're getting into.
We sell red-eared sliders. People don't seem to realize that these things can't live in a tupperware container. They also don't realize that they'll have to spend some major money for that cute little $19.99 turtle.
So, after arguing with a customer that no, she cannot just buy the turtle and keep it in a tupperware til her payday comes, and yes, I can very well refuse her sale, I was slightly peeved.
But hey, no biggie. One rotten customer does not an unhappy Nyx make.
Cut to annoying customer number two.
If I had a nickel for everytime a kid threw a tantrum in our store, I'd be rich. Very rich.
Bathing in godiva if I were so inclined rich.
Kid wanted a guinea pig. Didn't realize that they require a cage. They apparently thought it could live in 10 gallon fishtank.
Er...no. Just no.
Luckily, Mommy realized that the nice saleswoman (whose left eye had begun to tick by now) was right, and they decided on a betta fish.
Good choice, Mommy.
I swear, we don't make this stuff up. When we say you need something for an animal, you really do need it. I promise. We aren't scamming you.
Cut to later in that evening. I had a downright pleasant talk with another customer about his iguanas, and I even sold him a turtle (he even bought all the supplies they needed! Woohoo for responsible pet owners!).
We were just closing up shop when the last customer came in.
Next to him was his son, and in his arms (in an open gigantic tupperware container of all things - what is with Delawarians and tupperware?) was a puppy.
I have never seen a dog in such bad condition.
The thing couldn't have been more than three months old. It was lethargic, and had wounds all over its body. Some even had pus.
Not only that, but I could count the dogs vertabrae and ribs - and it was severely dehydrated.
The man told me that the puppy had worms, and that he needed medicine for the dog.
Gee, y'think?
Turns out that he had gotten the dog a month before. Stole the dog, actually. From a "friend" of his - he had taken the puppy because the friend wasn't taking care of it. He was trying to do right by it, but he just couldn't afford the vet bills.
Luckily, the woman who was in front of him knew of a 24 hr. emergency clinic that might slash the prices a bit to help him, so he followed her to it. I can only pray that the puppy gets the help that it needs.
So world, I've been thinking about this man and his son and puppy.
At first I was angry. He had that dog in his care for a whole month and did nothing while it withered away and led a miserable existence. Moreover, he didn't report the scumbag of a friend of his to the local authorities.
If I'm being honest with myself, I'm still angry.
But, after some reflection on the subject, I think I've decided that the man isn't totally evil.
He tried to take the puppy away from what he thought was an abusive situation. He was trying to help it, but didn't have the financial resources to help it the way that it needed, so from what I can gather the dog just got worse and worse.
He was obviously distressed at the puppy's condition. He tried telling his son that the puppy would be alright - but it was evident that he didn't believe it. He said he tried going to a vet, but they turned him away - because they were 'relocating.'
They should be ashamed of themselves. No reputable vet I know would ever turn away a puppy in that condition.
I'm not saying that it's an excuse for the neglectful treatment, I'm just saying that the guy isn't the scum of the earth.
Because if we're going to be honest with ourselves world, we might as well admit it - there are far worse excuses for human beings walking around right now than this guy.
Do I think he should own a dog? No. Do I think he's scum? Not entirely.
What do you think?
It started out well enough - I was even downright jubilent as I pranced into work earlier this evening.
And I do mean pranced. I had good reason to be happy! I finally found a hairclip that will hold all my hair in place! All those baby-fine strands that seem to defy gravity and hairspray...finally tucked into place!
I clocked in. Helped a few customers. Ohhed and Awwed at so-and-so's new puppy.
Then guess what happened world? Guess what?
My happy died a horrible and horrific death.
It started simply enough. Nine times out of ten, when a person wants to buy a turtle from us, they have no idea what the hell they're getting into.
We sell red-eared sliders. People don't seem to realize that these things can't live in a tupperware container. They also don't realize that they'll have to spend some major money for that cute little $19.99 turtle.
So, after arguing with a customer that no, she cannot just buy the turtle and keep it in a tupperware til her payday comes, and yes, I can very well refuse her sale, I was slightly peeved.
But hey, no biggie. One rotten customer does not an unhappy Nyx make.
Cut to annoying customer number two.
If I had a nickel for everytime a kid threw a tantrum in our store, I'd be rich. Very rich.
Bathing in godiva if I were so inclined rich.
Kid wanted a guinea pig. Didn't realize that they require a cage. They apparently thought it could live in 10 gallon fishtank.
Er...no. Just no.
Luckily, Mommy realized that the nice saleswoman (whose left eye had begun to tick by now) was right, and they decided on a betta fish.
Good choice, Mommy.
I swear, we don't make this stuff up. When we say you need something for an animal, you really do need it. I promise. We aren't scamming you.
Cut to later in that evening. I had a downright pleasant talk with another customer about his iguanas, and I even sold him a turtle (he even bought all the supplies they needed! Woohoo for responsible pet owners!).
We were just closing up shop when the last customer came in.
Next to him was his son, and in his arms (in an open gigantic tupperware container of all things - what is with Delawarians and tupperware?) was a puppy.
I have never seen a dog in such bad condition.
The thing couldn't have been more than three months old. It was lethargic, and had wounds all over its body. Some even had pus.
Not only that, but I could count the dogs vertabrae and ribs - and it was severely dehydrated.
The man told me that the puppy had worms, and that he needed medicine for the dog.
Gee, y'think?
Turns out that he had gotten the dog a month before. Stole the dog, actually. From a "friend" of his - he had taken the puppy because the friend wasn't taking care of it. He was trying to do right by it, but he just couldn't afford the vet bills.
Luckily, the woman who was in front of him knew of a 24 hr. emergency clinic that might slash the prices a bit to help him, so he followed her to it. I can only pray that the puppy gets the help that it needs.
So world, I've been thinking about this man and his son and puppy.
At first I was angry. He had that dog in his care for a whole month and did nothing while it withered away and led a miserable existence. Moreover, he didn't report the scumbag of a friend of his to the local authorities.
If I'm being honest with myself, I'm still angry.
But, after some reflection on the subject, I think I've decided that the man isn't totally evil.
He tried to take the puppy away from what he thought was an abusive situation. He was trying to help it, but didn't have the financial resources to help it the way that it needed, so from what I can gather the dog just got worse and worse.
He was obviously distressed at the puppy's condition. He tried telling his son that the puppy would be alright - but it was evident that he didn't believe it. He said he tried going to a vet, but they turned him away - because they were 'relocating.'
They should be ashamed of themselves. No reputable vet I know would ever turn away a puppy in that condition.
I'm not saying that it's an excuse for the neglectful treatment, I'm just saying that the guy isn't the scum of the earth.
Because if we're going to be honest with ourselves world, we might as well admit it - there are far worse excuses for human beings walking around right now than this guy.
Do I think he should own a dog? No. Do I think he's scum? Not entirely.
What do you think?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
No Name
Hi world.
I got new parakeet today.
And how did I happen to get a new parakeet, you say?
Ah. Well...erm.
Some guy brought it in a shoebox. Then left it there. Just left it on the counter and walked away. It's been sitting in a cage for the last week.
So, I took it. I'm hoping that it'll get along with Ash, my other bird.
If it doesn't, that's ok - I have an extra cage. He's just a baby bird. I'm hoping that Ash doesn't pick on him too terribly.
Sadly, it's not an uncommon thing for animals to get dropped off at the store. Times are rough, and people seem to think that it's ok to just dump their animals wherever.
I've seen more animals dropped off in the last three months than the entire two years I've worked at the (major mega chain) petstore.
I remember the first animals I remember being dropped off. It was a box of kittens. The guy said that he found them in a dumpster, in a plastic bag, but he couldn't keep them because his dog wouldn't get along with them.
Then he put the box down and walked out of the store. Luckily, our adoption partner, Faithful Friends (if anyone lives in the Tri-State area and is looking for a good place to send some money, that's an awesome no-kill rescue. And I don't even like most no-kill rescues) took them in without a question.
I wish it was that easy for the rest of the animals that come in. Faithful Friends has since run out of room at its rescue, and we'll be pretty much screwed if we get anymore kittens or cats dropped off. The harsh reality is that there just isn't enough space to house all the unwanted pets in the world.
Please, please, if you're looking for an animal, consider adopting. Petfinder.com is a GREAT resource - most major shelters/rescues are listed there, and their search function is off the hook. Hundreds and hundreds of innocent dogs and cats (among other pets) are being put down on a daily basis, for no other reason than there's not enough room.
They don't deserve it.
The new addition.
I got new parakeet today.
And how did I happen to get a new parakeet, you say?
Ah. Well...erm.
Some guy brought it in a shoebox. Then left it there. Just left it on the counter and walked away. It's been sitting in a cage for the last week.
So, I took it. I'm hoping that it'll get along with Ash, my other bird.
If it doesn't, that's ok - I have an extra cage. He's just a baby bird. I'm hoping that Ash doesn't pick on him too terribly.
Sadly, it's not an uncommon thing for animals to get dropped off at the store. Times are rough, and people seem to think that it's ok to just dump their animals wherever.
I've seen more animals dropped off in the last three months than the entire two years I've worked at the (major mega chain) petstore.
I remember the first animals I remember being dropped off. It was a box of kittens. The guy said that he found them in a dumpster, in a plastic bag, but he couldn't keep them because his dog wouldn't get along with them.
Then he put the box down and walked out of the store. Luckily, our adoption partner, Faithful Friends (if anyone lives in the Tri-State area and is looking for a good place to send some money, that's an awesome no-kill rescue. And I don't even like most no-kill rescues) took them in without a question.
I wish it was that easy for the rest of the animals that come in. Faithful Friends has since run out of room at its rescue, and we'll be pretty much screwed if we get anymore kittens or cats dropped off. The harsh reality is that there just isn't enough space to house all the unwanted pets in the world.
Please, please, if you're looking for an animal, consider adopting. Petfinder.com is a GREAT resource - most major shelters/rescues are listed there, and their search function is off the hook. Hundreds and hundreds of innocent dogs and cats (among other pets) are being put down on a daily basis, for no other reason than there's not enough room.
They don't deserve it.
The new addition.I love it when they puff.
Oh Mama
So I just read an interesting article that, quite frankly, leaves me slightly disturbed.
Ok. I understand the need for shackling inmates. I do.
Really.
I understand that this is a woman who had previously violated her parole.
However, I also believe that everyone has the right to be treated humanely.
I don't understand why they would believe that a woman in labor is prone to run away from a prison. I myself have never been had a child, so I don't know what labor is like. From what I understand of it though, it's quite a painful experiance.
The article says that women are routinely shackled during childbirth. For what? If there are guards there, then of what use are the shackles? Are you going to convince me that the guards can't stop a woman who is in labor from running away?
The article then goes on to say that one inmate, Casandra Brawley, was shackled until the doctor protested.
Really? Where is the common sense of these correctional officers? If a woman needs shackling, then by all means. But I doubt that a woman who's going to giving birth imminently is very much of a threat, so long as security protocal is followed appropriately.
Really? Where is the common sense of these correctional officers? If a woman needs shackling, then by all means. But I doubt that a woman who's going to giving birth imminently is very much of a threat, so long as security protocal is followed appropriately.
Which leads me to my next point. It seems like everyone seems to like to forget that inmates ARE people.
Let me tell you a little personal story. Story time!! Woot!
A few years ago (we won't say how many), I worked in a kitchen. I got along with most of the people there, and all was good. The only person I can truely say that I abhored was my supervisor.
He was kind of a douche.
We had two cooks in the kitchen - one of whom was E.
He was a great guy. He once gave up his Superbowl tickets (the Steelers, his favorite team, had been playing) because his mother was sick - so he stayed home to watch after her.
Yea, he was that type of guy. He adored his mother. Now mind you, he wasn't a saint. Cursed like a sailor, hated the supervisor. Did everything he could to piss off Douchebag. He did, however, stand up for all the girls in the kitchen (let's just say that the douchebag supervisor liked to hit on the girls...all the damned time. He also hired people who apparently didn't know what the term 'personal space' meant). Now whether E. did this because he was generally disgusted with their behavior, or whether he thought he could get some tail out of it, or maybe he just wanted to piss our supervisor off more...who knows.
I, of course, thought he was great.
Until, one day, he stopped showing up for work. I think ya'll can gather where this story is going.
Turns out that the police were looking for him. For murder.
Insert a dramatic pause here and maybe a gasp or two.
Insert a dramatic pause here and maybe a gasp or two.
Yep, that's right. He apparently shot a guy...and the guy died as a direct result. E's in jail now for life.
Which he should be.
The point of this little story was that inmates aren't the monsters we make them out to be. They deserve to be locked away, don't get me wrong. But to be treated like animals?
Hell. Something about that just doesn't sit right with me.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Splash.
Yep. That's right - I've attempted a cartoon. That's supposed to be a dolphin, FYI.
Read the article...you'll understand.
Hm. As if the zoo officials thought "Hey, I know what we can do to get back at those evil tourists that dare to spend their money here. We'll make the floor wet! MUWAHAHAHAHA."
Dream on lady. Dream. On.
Gotta say...this is kind of remniscent of the McDonald's coffee incident. Oh...you mean it's hot? I had no idea!
The floor is near an area of water. Ergo, it stands to reason that the floor surrounding said area of water would be slight wet.
Hm. Gotta say, I'm sick of people using the law in order to make a quick buck. It cheapens our legal system (like our system needs any help with that).
Figured I'd just post that little blurp (mini-rant). Ran across it whilst I was checking my e-mail.
Rambo.
So I'm sitting here staring at my fish tank.
Woohoo.
It's begging to be cleaned. So I should probably clean it.
But there's that small part of me that's saying "no Nyx...you can do it tomorrow."
Get behind me Satan.
The little stone (cleverly textured plastic) gargoyle just launched the crayfish across the tank.
Heheheh.
Rambo (the crayfish) deserved it. He ate six of my fish (damn my bleeding heart for letting him in).
Going to clean the tank now. Wish me luck!
Woohoo.
It's begging to be cleaned. So I should probably clean it.
But there's that small part of me that's saying "no Nyx...you can do it tomorrow."
Get behind me Satan.
The little stone (cleverly textured plastic) gargoyle just launched the crayfish across the tank.
Heheheh.
Rambo (the crayfish) deserved it. He ate six of my fish (damn my bleeding heart for letting him in).
Going to clean the tank now. Wish me luck!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Kitty
Yes, I realize that it has been over a month since I've updated here. No, I haven't died.
Sorry.
To make this up to you, I'll put a very cute picture up. Look at it...loooove it....
This is kitty. Or Nikky, as my mother and sister enjoy calling her. She's a stray who, for some reason, seems to like us.
I'm sure that us feeding her has nothing to do with it.
Don't be fooled by that collar 'round her neck. She was originally gotten for my neighbor's spawn, who then proceeded to neglect her. This led to the neighbor disregarding the poor thing and letting it fend for itself in the vast wilderness of suburbia.
Well. We weren't having any of that, no sireebob.
So she is now 'our' cat. And by "our" I mean every neighbor living on our block.
Go fig.
I love the little hairball. She does, of course, send me into sneezing fits and scrambling for tissues every time I'm around her (seeing as how I harbor an unfortunate allergy), but hey. That's not her fault.
At first, I tried to find her a home (to no avail...). I then tried to convince every person that I had ever met that they were in desperate need of a cat. Again...no luck. I then got to talking with a few of the neighbors.
And then realized how very wrong I was.
The cat had a home. Six homes, to be precise. Apparently, everyone has been making sure she's being taken care of...and she's been eating at all six homes.
No wonder she's a porker.
Don't let the face fool ya. That "woe is me" bit is all just one big act.
Oh kitty. How easily fooled I was.
It's ok though. I promise I won't run you over too much with my SUV.
I think I'm going to take her in to get her shots this upcoming Sunday. Not today, of course. I mean the Sunday that will be the most forthwith starting from tomorrow.
Oy...I foresee my bank account dwindling in the future.
Sorry.
To make this up to you, I'll put a very cute picture up. Look at it...loooove it....
This is kitty. Or Nikky, as my mother and sister enjoy calling her. She's a stray who, for some reason, seems to like us.
I'm sure that us feeding her has nothing to do with it.
Don't be fooled by that collar 'round her neck. She was originally gotten for my neighbor's spawn, who then proceeded to neglect her. This led to the neighbor disregarding the poor thing and letting it fend for itself in the vast wilderness of suburbia.
Well. We weren't having any of that, no sireebob.
So she is now 'our' cat. And by "our" I mean every neighbor living on our block.
Go fig.
I love the little hairball. She does, of course, send me into sneezing fits and scrambling for tissues every time I'm around her (seeing as how I harbor an unfortunate allergy), but hey. That's not her fault.
At first, I tried to find her a home (to no avail...). I then tried to convince every person that I had ever met that they were in desperate need of a cat. Again...no luck. I then got to talking with a few of the neighbors.
And then realized how very wrong I was.
The cat had a home. Six homes, to be precise. Apparently, everyone has been making sure she's being taken care of...and she's been eating at all six homes.
No wonder she's a porker.
Don't let the face fool ya. That "woe is me" bit is all just one big act.
Oh kitty. How easily fooled I was.
It's ok though. I promise I won't run you over too much with my SUV.
I think I'm going to take her in to get her shots this upcoming Sunday. Not today, of course. I mean the Sunday that will be the most forthwith starting from tomorrow.
Oy...I foresee my bank account dwindling in the future.
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