The RAnts of RA

We adopted a tiny little vicious  Russian Blue  mix kitten, who had been rescued from a dog with ill intentions. She had been traumatized. It took over an hour before we could tell if her back was broken because she wouldn’t move — only her eyes would follow us.

4 month old Russian Blue

 

Lily Mae (aka Lily Mae Belle as I’m fond of calling her or invisi-kitty as my son calls her – because she can hide anywhere)  has become an integral part of our family. I’ve declared that her name means, “Crazy Flower.” (Yes, we love Bambi and Thumper.) She even has her own seat at the table and eats most meals with us — we don’t allow paws on the table, though.

It has been a constant struggle keeping her in the house recently. She will take any and every opportunity to race outside. We are terrified to allow her to go out because she’s so tiny and our beloved Sandy disappeared one morning  without warning.

She was a free spirit, though. Sandy was a neighborhood cat, one of about 8 feral cats I used to feed, most of the cats wouldn’t come near me, but they never missed a meal. I watched them from inside.  Sandy was different, she  just decided to move in one day. She always came and went as she pleased. In fact, we had her for 6-months before we ever considered purchasing a litter box. She always did her business outside.

Image via Wikipedia

We don’t want to lose Lily but we don’t want her to be unhappy either. However, every time Lily gets out, she acts like a wild animal. She zips back and forth, runs full speed up and down the hills surrounding our home. It takes my son and I working together to tease her back home — sometimes taking several hours. She never wants to come back home.

One afternoon she actually got outside. We tried for hours to get her to come back inside. Trying to get away from us, she bolted up a pine tree near our house and, unable to figure out how to climb down, she kept climbing higher and higher. She was only  3 months old. We ended up having to shake her out of the tree. We were sure she was injured — since she landed on her back. The fall didn’t even faze her. She is more cautious about climbing trees these days, but that hasn’t stopped her from climbing of course.

Lily has been acting so depressed the past couple of days that we decided she was born to be free and allowed her to run free outside,  for most of the past two days. It’s been heartbreaking for us. We constantly worry that something will happen to her.

We’ve had a constant  power struggle to determine the Alpha Dog between Lily and I. She actually bites my hand when she’s hungry and wants me to feed her. Most cats just meow and rub up against your leg, but not this girl. I hate being bitten, not realizing at first what she was telling me, I would bite her ear back. She did not like that at all but she learned to nibble, instead of leaving puncture marks in my hand.

This evening she was out,  wandering too far from home — much further than I am comfortable with. I had been trying to keep an eye on her and ignore her at the same time. My theory was that she would come home –  eventually – on her own terms.

I would go outside and call her name, she would come flying up or down the hill, zip past me and keep right on going. I tried explaining to her that I was going to bed and she needed to come into the house. She didn’t care. Nothing fazed her, until…

I came back inside, picked up her spare bed from the livingroom and her fuzzy cover from dad’s desk that  she likes to lay on —  items well scented by her. I put them out on the deck, under my chair. The next time she came flying up on the deck, she took one look at her bed, I opened the door walked inside and told her, let’s go to bed and inside she came.

I had almost given up hope of her ever willingly coming back into the house but I guess even she is smart enough to realize sleeping in the house is much nicer than a cold windy deck. I have reason to hope though, just now I opened the door to go outside and she was waiting there to be allowed inside. Apparently, she didn’t realize all she had to do was push on the door. I had made sure it wasn’t latched.

I am thankful for the rainy weather. The cold, wet ground isn’t as pleasing to her delicate sensibilities, so it’s a tiny bit easier to get her to come home. I can’t wait to introduce her to snow. By next summer, she will be older and hopefully much wiser. With any luck, she’ll also be trained to return home.

Unfortunately, I’m positive she still thinks she’s the boss.

Related articles

• Responsible pet ownership is about all animals
• Wiltshire’s cat lovers have the purrfect chance to be more feline friendly
• Vestavia passes ordinance to trap and return feral cats

The next Presidential Election is just around the corner and I can hardly wait. Then I got to thinking about the way voters have really been boxed in over the years.  Laws have been enacted that have  all but guaranteed a Republican or a Democrat would lie their way to the White House.  The entire election process has been corrupted and no longer functions properly.

It just doesn’t seem to me like we are getting the bright, honest men of integrity to run for office these days. Perhaps, we need to make some changes to our current system to better the odds to encourage fine leaders to run for office.

On my wish list for changes that should be made before the next election:

Mandatory Testing for Public Employees

• Anyone running for public office, must submit to an I.Q. test. Those with I.Q.s under 80, are disqualified to run. That should weed out at least 50% of those currently in office.
• Any candidate running for office must have his own house in order. Just like most other positions of trust, prospective candidates must submit to a credit check, chexsystems and he or she must be current with all IRS obligations. That should take care of the other 50%, leaving us with a clean house.

I watch for those campaign mailers and save them each election year. I like to pull them out when I make my choices and consider how well thought out the materials are. In other words, how effectively are they using their own resources. I pay closer attention to the smaller pieces of mail because these are the people who know how to stretch a dollar bill and still get the job done.

I personally hate getting those  huge things that won’t even fit easily into our mailbox.  I know those things are costly and they are a huge waste of money. Even the elderly don’t  need 3 inch type and if they do, it makes far more  sense for that person to grab their eye glasses or magnifying glass — because if their eyes are that bad, you know they  have their own.

The  government  — those who work for the people — must start thinking before spending.  Government workers need to let people do for themselves, and stop trying to take care of everyone. It’s time you start to do the job you were hired for.   Period!

I have a question. Why is it that taxpayers are paying the freight for children to be educated at public schools? Schools keep crying for more money, but do you realize that most parents could pay less to send their child to a private school than it costs to educate a child in the public school?

If we are paying for a private school education, why are our children still expected to received a “standardized education?” Maybe that is part of the problem. We have the resources to create a tailor-made  educational system that is better suited to the needs of a growing child. Just ask John Taylor Gatto, he proved it 20 years ago.

If children are going to be continually tested and grilled throughout their academic careers, maybe we should subject the teachers to standardized testing each year as well. And while we are at it, let’s just extend it to all public workers.

Related articles

• Thousands of students transfer to private schools as Indiana implements nation’s most extensive voucher program (educblog.wordpress.com)
• Private schools’ cash boom (heraldsun.com.au)
• The Year of School Choice (cnsnews.com)

Wednesday, June 29, 2011, as I sat under the gazebo watching my son practice his routine on the trampoline, a young buck, probably not more than a year old,  came wandering down the driveway nibbling at the tall grass as he came closer. He stopped for a few minutes to observe the activity as if amazed by the sight before him.

This young buck is standing just 10 feet from where he will die, 2 days later.

He was an enchanting creature with velvety antlers  that seemed to  enjoy the sound of my voice, as I spoke to him in soothing tones.   This was not his first visit, his mother brought him by when he was just a wee fawn. I can still remember their last visit together. It was a touching moment and I didn’t understand what was happening at the time.

One  afternoon,  around 4 p.m.,  I sat alone on the deck, as if entranced, while four older fawns haltingly approached our yard. They were nosing around in the grass and eating bird seed, of all things. They played around a little and moved along. As the fawns were leaving, 4 mothers followed not far behind, they were chatting each other up and sparring a little, all while keeping a watchful eye on the fawns.

That was the last time they visited as a large group. It was as if the mothers were showing them the rounds, so they could care for themselves once they were out on their own. Sure enough, a few days later, a couple of fawns wandered through the yard and my lovely young buck would make the rounds every 2 or 3 days.

Yesterday, the graceful buck was struck broadside by a passing motorist on the road, fracturing his left front shoulder and rear leg. My son and I were out for a walk, when he noticed the deer down a steep incline, on the side of the mountain overlooking our house. Under a great deal of brush –  he wasn’t moving.

He went to get his father (Shawn)  and I walked to the fireman’s house next door. I figured if anyone knew what to do, he would. He came down later to see what was wrong, but wasn’t able to help and left.

Shawn found the deer, amazingly enough, behind our house. It was obvious his leg and shoulder were broken, he was bleeding from his mouth and in undeniable distress. Shawn described him as  though he were a trout flopping around the boat, gasping for air.  Another neighbor, a former police officer from San Leandro, advised us to call animal control; so we did.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, I had the number handy. My cat disappeared only Wednesday evening and I had called to report her absence the day before. It was after hours at animal control. The recorded message told us to call the Sheriff’s dispatch, which  I did.

Dispatch informed us their officers were busy (4th of July weekend traffic stops), but  she would send someone out as soon as possible. Two hours and 30 minutes  later I called back and was apprised that an officer was in route and should arrive momentarily. Over 3 hours had passed from the time we discovered the deer until the Sheriff actually put  him down.

While I waited, I tried to comfort the suffering buck. I spoke to him as I always have, trying to help calm him. I sang to him, prayed for him and cried for him while we waited.

I mentioned yesterday,  in  Ohio Modern Day Heroes that I used to have a farm, we would kill and butcher most of the animals ourselves. Our animals led a happy life, with good healthy food, music, freedom to wander, kids to play with (if they wanted to) and when it was time to put them down, we did everything in our power to do the deed as quickly and painlessly as possible. We loved our animals. They brought us great joy and happiness: they were giving their lives for us and we respected them for that. That is the natural way of life. But it broke my heart to stand and watch this magnificent creature die a slow and agonizing death, while I could do little more than stand helplessly by and watch.

The Sheriff informed us of what he was going to do – he had to put the deer out of its misery, which all agreed was for the best, and he informed us that it was a holiday weekend; he could shoot the deer but he was going to leave it IN OUR YARD. (If you have never smelled a rotting carcass, consider yourself blessed beyond measure.) We were fine with that. I’ve always believed in using every part of an animal and not to waste anything. My son even  taught himself how to tan hides, a long and complicated process.

We were also informed by the Sheriff that he couldn’t give us permission to keep it. I’m not exactly sure  what  he thought we were going to do with it. I knew one thing for sure, he did not  give his life for nothing. We covered him in a sheet, moved him to another location and  started watching video’s on how to dress out a deer. Neither of us had ever cleaned a deer but we  didn’t have much choice did we?  After all, it was 9:00 p.m., the deer had been shot, IN OUR YARD and left to decay.

My patient husband spent the next five hours cleaning the buck and preparing it for  processing. We called Dee’s Meats in Galt,  after hearing our story, the woman  from Dee’s told us to bring it in, they were open until noon. Perfect! We cleaned up and finally made it to bed around  2:00 a.m.; we were all back up at  8:30 a.m.,  with just enough time to load up the SUV and  make the long drive to Galt.  We arrived just in time — we thought —  as we  pulled into the parking lot at  11:50 a.m., only to be told they  could be closed down for processing our  deer  because we needed a tag from the California Department of Fish and Game (DFG).

I was really getting worried now, the temperature in Galt was a sticky 102 °F, or more. Working as quickly as possible Shawn and I both began dialing our cell phones, trying to talk to someone — anyone — at the Department of Fish and Game, to no avail. It was Saturday afternoon on a busy holiday weekend. There were police everywhere, but we couldn’t reach one single human being at the DFG. How could that be? Aren’t they supposed to be on duty, especially when people  head to the mountains, streams, lakes and rivers  in droves?

Finally, we were given directions to  the house of a DFG  employee, who lived nearby. As luck (or not) would have it, he was home. The first thing he did was inform Shawn that he could charge him with taking a deer illegally, and that transporting it was yet another broken law. What? You’ve got to be kidding me! What kind of place is this? Who could be so cruel as to threaten to charge a man who had gone to such efforts; missing out on hours of work and sleep, to ensure that this deer was honored in his death.

I don’t blame this young DFG  employee. He was just doing his job, right? He was nice enough but just as quickly informed my husband that he couldn’t let us keep the deer. He continued that if a motorist hits a deer, he’s not allowed to keep it. They take that deer and donate it to the zoo or an animal refuge, like PAWS. Now, don’t misunderstand me, I love animals but this was our deer. He came here to our house to die or for comfort. He was shot here (by the Sheriff) and left IN OUR YARD. We didn’t keep the antlers because I couldn’t stand to look at them, knowing where they came from and their owner was dead but the meat would have provided for our family many nourishing meals. Aren’t people supposed to eat, too?

Why was no one available to help when this animal was suffering? We would have put the deer down ourselves, to keep him from suffering but we knew we would go to jail or at the very least be fined. We tried to do the right thing, but someone wasn’t on the job. This should not have happened and I don’t ever want to experience anything of this nature again. It’s  far too painful and completely unnecessary. I don’t want to live where people pay lip service about caring for animals and yet, a  living breathing animal is allowed to suffer for hours and die a painful death.

These asinine  laws must change. I can’t even claim that California cares more about its animals than it does people. It’s apparent that only caged animals deserve dignity, respect and care. I hate seeing animals in cages, it’s just plain cruel and any law that allows any animal to lie in pain is wrong. Please write your legislators and share my story if you care about the deer,  mountain lions, bears, cougars, etc…

Gee, I’m happy that the zoo animals will eat tonight but what about my family? Who will feed us? My husband works all night every Friday night, he took five hours out of his schedule and instead of sleeping, he cleaned a deer that was LEFT IN OUR YARD. We spent $60 in gas to drive to Galt to have the deer processed. That, California, is food that came out of my son’s mouth. Do we have to leave California to be treated fairly?

Update: It’s come to our attention that there’s a local organization, Rose Wolf Wildlife, that may have been able to assist us immediately with helping out this poor young buck. The next time this happens (and we’re sure it will), we’ll definitely give them a call.

Related articles

• Man abandons newborn fawn in Tucson
• Armed government agents raid animal shelter to euthanize baby deer
• 5 Safe Driving Tips for Deer Season

• Game changer: Most proposals are on target
• The Buck Stops Here: Do We Really Need to Cull Deer Herds?
• How to Keep Deer Out of The Garden
• Rain and Fog