Mary Bale, a British woman, caught on video putting a cat in a trash can, who could not believe she received death threats: "It's just a cat at the end of the day."
I'd like to put her in a trash can. Stupid cow.
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'crib' cracks me up! Great award!
Thanks Cynthia!
Musings on life on and off Wye Mountain
Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself......
Having lived in the east and the west, I've found myself back in my home state of the south - not the 'deep' south; we like to think of ourselves as pioneers and our state as the 'jumping off place' to beginning a westward journey, like so many migrating pioneer families considered us to be in the 1800s.
My husband "Excy" and I run a wild mustang sanctuary (www.wingspur.org -- that's our 'wild bunch' running across the header up there), and are being bossed around by tons of wild and domestic animals. We seldom get a chance to get away anymore, but that's okay.
I am a former magazine editor and was working for a national nonprofit when I had to go on disability in '97. Now I freelance articles and edit for a publishing house and private clients. Like most everyone out there, I have a few screenplays and mostly-completed novels in a drawer. I'm also failing to learn how to play the hammered dulcimer. Can't read music, just play by ear. But I have slowly mastered some civil war-era and folk songs.
I started blogging because a friend thinks I'm funny and I'd be good at it, and because it's way more fun than Facebook.
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'crib' cracks me up! Great award!
Thanks Cynthia!
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3 comments:
I was rather shocked at that. I'll bet the poor kitty was too. Do we know if it survived the ordeal?
Don't know -- wish I did.....
When I heard of a puppy mill being raided last November, knowing what I was going to see nearly kept me away, but I knew that "someone" there would need me desperately. One little dog, out of many with the common "dead expression" crawled up to me. I couldn't help but pick him up and he laid in my arms, limp. His head dangling, I knew he was dying. "He needs me" was all I had to say for my husband to start crying and write out a check for $300 to the group that was attempting to help these existing survivors.
I would now be spending the rest of my life in prison if I had seen the "mill" owner at that moment.
I took my little boy home to die. I only wanted to give him his first, and last, knowledge of love as he passed.
I held him for five hours straight. In the sixth hour, he lifted his head, stared me in the eyes and wagged his tail.
Ten months later, he is still wagging his tail and is one of the happiest souls I've ever known
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