***Soapbox Alert***

If you follow my blog, you’ll remember my post a while back about the responsibilities that come with owning a pet, no matter what it may be. I shall hop back up on my soapbox yet again as I feel people have had enough time to recover from the last rant 🙂 (All warnings and disclaimers from previous post apply. If you don’t know what they are, go back and read, if you’re too lazy to do that, I basically said be nice or I’ll delete you and if you have a problem with what I say, address me, not someone else. 🙂 )

Alienation…It finds opportunity in every situation where people SHOULD be agreeing to work together for the greater good but are too blinded to see they are on the same side. A few examples…
The stay at home mom vs. working mom debate- Let’s be mature here and realize what we are teaching our children about behavior when we argue which is harder, better, or more important.
The gun debates- Open carry vs. conceal carry, modern sporting rifles vs. old school, target shooting vs. hunting, and trophy hunting vs. ‘provision’ hunting. We don’t all have to agree on what we prefer, that’s why the good Lord made us all different, but when we fight amongst ourselves, we allow ourselves to become divided and therefore, we become weaker as a whole.
And finally, buying a pet vs. rescuing a pet, which is the argument I choose to focus on today.

As with anything you come across, there are good and bad people involved in pets, so please don’t take what I post and assume that I think badly of any and all people who breed pets or any and all rescues. What I find in the honest to goodness, caring breeders and rescuers is an ability to work together. That being said, why is there such a volatile line drawn between other breeders and rescuers?

A little history on me, I’m a third generation dog person who has grown up with mostly purebred dogs. While I have an appreciation for the lineage and history that goes into a pedigree, something you may not know is that it’s not all superficial. Specific breeds have been (and still are being) developed over long periods of time to be what their owner needed. Border Collies to work livestock, Pointers to hunt, and Saint Bernards to aid lost travelers. Obviously these dogs all need different attributes, physically and mentally.

Now, back on track, why is there so much animosity between breeders and rescues? I see it from both sides. I’ve seen breeders (which, for the sake of this article, let’s define what I mean by breeders. When I use that word, I am referencing people who are interested in preserving a breed, as it has been developed, or continuing to develop something to work for them in areas they need it. I’m not referring to what some would call puppy-mills or backyard breeders) with their noses stuck up in the air, thinking their way is the ONLY way to do things. And I’ve seen things like this

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from the rescue side.

My question to everyone would be: What good does either mindset do? Does being stuck up or rude save lives? Nothing, absolutely nothing good comes from shaming people into buying a purebred and nothing good comes from guilting someone into adopting.

A few things I want to address and then I shall end this, and know that just because I stopped here doesn’t mean I don’t have more thoughts on the issue.

1. Purebreds aren’t for everyone. There are people that don’t need something specific from their dog and since there are plenty to rescue from shelters, it’s best for those people to adopt.

2. Rescues aren’t for everyone. There are people who do need something specific from their dog and when you can track a dog and it’s attributes back several generations, the likelihood of that person getting what they need goes up exponentially.

3. Not all breeders are anti-rescue as the above picture would have some believe. I know plenty of breeders who dedicate large portions of their time to saving shelter animals (as a matter of fact, that’s where most breed specific rescues come from).

4. Not all rescues are anti-breeder because they accept any and all help, no matter where it comes from. They care about the individual animals more than just a platform.

So, in conclusion, can we all take a step back and evaluate our position? Is what we are doing truly beneficial? Or are we sacrificing the greater good for anger, attention, and personal preferences? Just think on it. If your first response is to argue, you might be part of the problem.

 

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Annie the Nanny

Growing up, I wanted to be a vet. When I found out all the things that go into being a vet (almost always dealing with sick animals, long hours, and lots of student loans) I thought I wanted to go into some sort of animal research. And no, I don’t mean the kind where you put lipstick on a pig and see if it breaks out in hives… I mean the kind where you study animals and see the inner workings of everything they are. Little did I know that I’ve been in animal research all my life. Today my light bulb popped on with an experience with one of our guardian dogs, Annie.

It’s lambing season.

Annie the Nanny

Why on earth these things happen in the coldest, nastiest of times, I won’t understand until I get to heaven, I’m sure! I keep telling these little cuties it would have been much nicer if their mom had decided to ‘bake’ them a little longer, or at least until the weather warmed up. But then I think it’s probably like most kids, and they are eager to come out. I’m guessing playing in the snow may not be as exciting as they thought it would. This year, the little white fluff balls are curious. I can’t remember a time that I’ve pulled more of them out of a jam than this year. And Annie the Nanny (as I deemed her this morning) is always quick to let me know when trouble arises.

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This morning, as I was trying to let dogs out, I heard quite the ruckus going on in the sheep pen. I knew something was up, because barking isn’t an issue with the guardians unless something is wrong. When I glanced up on the hill, I saw a stuck baby. I immediately assumed the worst, but was in a rush to get there, just in case. When I got closer, I noticed the baby was still moving, so I ‘extracted’ it from it’s misfortune and that’s when I noticed the SECOND stuck baby. Poor Annie was laying beside the second one, because where the first one was, there was no way she would have been able to get close. I quickly came to the rescue of baby # 2, but decided this one needed more attention because it had gotten it’s leg stuck in such a way it was unable to move it. I tucked it in my jacket, wanting to warm it up (actual temp here last night was -3, not counting wind chill, brrr!!). I carried it around a bit, even out of the pen to feed calves, and all under the watchful eye of Miss Annie. After about 20 minutes, the lamb started to stir in my jacket, so I got it out and set it down in the pen. Annie came running and I told her, “Watch this baby and keep it warm for me” because I didn’t know if the momma would come back right away (I’d fed the ewes on the other side of the pen and some were still eating). She apparently took what I said to heart, because as I was walking away I heard a very aggressive growl, snarl, and even a couple snaps. I swung around to see what exactly was going on, only to see Annie and a ewe fighting. Apparently the mother had come back and Annie was having none of it. I scolded Annie, telling her, “If the mom came back, you have to let her have her baby.” She was none too happy about that, and didn’t give in right away. She started to give another dirty look and be aggressive towards the mother, but I scolded her again. That’s all it took, as she then huffed and walked away (although you could still tell she was perturbed). She walked along the fence and was about to be hit by another ewe, who had apparently seen the whole encounter, when she turned her head away and gave the body language of, “My problem isn’t with you. You didn’t abandon your baby” to which the other ewe responded by backing off and nosing her baby.

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I’m sure some of you are wondering if I’m just a good story teller….but that wouldn’t be giving the credit where credit is due, to sweet, protective, Annie the Nanny. And if you’ve ever had a guardian dog, you won’t have to question me 🙂 I just know I’m blessed to be able to witness every bit of it.

 

 

I like wine…

I like wine, yes I do! I like wine, how ’bout you?

I was never a cheerleader, but my mom was!

Can you guess which one she is??

Can you guess which one she is??

Anyways, that was a little off topic, wasn’t it? No, I have not been drinking yet…yet! Are you keeping up? Cause I’m not sure I am. So, back to what I was saying. I really like wine, but I’ve found out something about myself that apparently applies to my mother as well. We like and can drink white wines, but red wines make us sick. Anyone else have this issue? I’m just curious, because I didn’t think that there was much of a difference. I personally, can also drink dark wines that aren’t made of grapes. So maybe it’s the red (purple?) grapes…

I have also come to the conclusion this is the dumbest blog yet, and I’m not certain I’m brave enough to post it. Ok, yes I am, but I’m going to attach a few more pictures of some neat wine things so you don’t feel like you’ve completely wasted the last 5 minutes (or 10 depending on your reading speed).

 

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I’m baaaack!

As we begin this new year, I’d like to revisit my social awkwardness (does anyone else have a hard time spelling awkward?). Yes, I know we’ve gone over this, but I have more to reveal. Let’s pretend like you’re surprised….

Ya wanna know the most dreaded question people can ask me when I run into them (and haven’t seen them for an extended period of time)? “So, what have you been up to?” I’m sorry, maybe it’s my inability to actually interact with other people without breaking out into a sweat but that single question sends my brain into overdrive. When someone asks me what I’ve been up to, I start wondering, “What HAVE I been up to?” Actually quite a bit I’m sure, but none of it comes to mind. Let’s see, this morning I washed dishes, vacuumed, did laundry, and took care of chores. But that’s probably not what they were asking…. start over.

I have been working really hard, I’m tired and sore, and busy all the time. But what have I been doing?? You see, when people ask this question, it’s kind of like when they ask, “How are you?” No one expects you to say anything more than, “Good, and you?” and then they say, “Good!” and neither of you would have even had to stop for such a short exchange. When someone asks me, “What have you been up to?” I guarantee you they aren’t prepared for what floods my mind. I clean house (which entails washing dishes, doing laundry, dusting, vacuuming, putting away everything that gets left out, and trying to find homes for things that don’t have one), do chores (feed dogs, feed cats, feed chickens, feed calves, feed sheep and goats, clean up after the dogs, vacuum the kennel, make sure everyone has water, etc.), I cook (no gourmet chef, but my family is alive), I write a blog (didn’t know that one, did ya?), I manage my family’s ranch (feeding hay, working livestock, working with XP Ranch clients from time to time, helping cut firewood, grazing sheep, chopping thistles, and the list goes on), I train dogs and teach clients how to train their dogs, I volunteer at the school (Monday is 2nd grade and Wednesday is Pre-k), I substitute (when the school calls), and I’m a mom and a wife and that those titles entail. But like I said before, I’m fairly certain no one would wait for me to say all that before they started to back away with a skittish look while mumbling that they left candles burning or something else equally dangerous that requires immediate attention.

So how do I answer said question? Well, I’ve come up with a quick answer that kind of sums it up, “I feel like I’m busy all of the time, but never get anything done!” I get some dumb looks, like they don’t understand how on earth that’s possible, but a majority of the time people tell me they know exactly what I mean. So maybe I’m not the only one who doesn’t always know what they’ve been doing even though they feel like they are constantly busy. 🙂

Everyday Miracles

I used ‘everyday miracles’ because they do happen all the time, but I experienced one today that I need to share. I struggled with this because it seems so small when compared to some of the other issues people are going through right now, but sometimes it’s the little miracles that get us through until the big ones come along.

It’s been super cold here, colder than Oklahoma is accustomed to and taking care of the animals we can’t bring in becomes quite the job. Thawing water, providing warm places to bed down, and increasing food are all on the to-do list. We have two ‘barn’ cats that live outside and probably wouldn’t dare set foot inside if you cornered them and tried to force it. I felt bad for them, so I got out an older dog crate, filled it with straw, draped it with a towel for cover, and started feeding in it so they’d feel comfortable. It took a couple days, but the female, Daisy, who’s been around for about a year now finally started making her bed in this little shelter and I was so happy she would have a ‘warm’ place to snuggle up.

The very morning I saw her considering this little haven her home, was the same time our bird dog, Emma, discovered her. I knew better, I knew I should have put it some place Emma couldn’t get her, and I didn’t. I thought it’d be ok. Emma had her cornered and when I finally got them apart, Emma looked pretty rough and Daisy struggled to scurry away. I didn’t know the extent of her injuries, but I knew she must have had major internal damage. I was heartbroken. I was mad. I just knew there was no way Daisy could survive that attack. I was at my breaking point because we’d had some rough times and I’d been trying so hard to be positive, have faith, and not let the Devil get to me. Here I was doing what I thought was a good deed and it lead to a horrific experience for all of us. I prayed, cried, and told God, “I know it’s whatever Your will is, but heal her. Please, I can’t handle it if I’m the reason she suffered and passed away. God, I know you can fix her.” I began to think I was being selfish. What if she lived and was disfigured and constantly in pain but living because I wanted her here. “God, you’ve raised the dead, I KNOW you can make her well again.”

Over the next couple days I felt guilty…I saw where so many people were facing hard times and here I was asking God to heal my cat. I resolved myself to the fact that she was gone. I thought all I could do was do better next time and not let it happen again. It was hard, but I was ok with the fact that God knew better and obviously had a reason she needed to go ‘home.’

This morning I was doing chores, as tired as ever, but thankful we were finally going to have a day above freezing. It meant time to refill all the water tanks and clean up the mess that was brought on by everything being ice for the last week (remember, this is Oklahoma and when we have freezing temps, it’s usually no more than a couple days in a row, at the most). I was gathering feed to take to the calves and as I came around the corner, spooked our other cat out of it’s hiding place, causing me to look up. I almost dropped my bucket and my jaw when I saw Daisy walking across the yard towards me, not a limp, not a scrape, not a thing wrong that I could see. I went to love on her and she acted as though everything were normal. She followed me to her ‘post’ where I feed her and told me she was starving. I gladly gave her a bowl full of cat food and told her how happy I was to see her.

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God hears us. He knows what we need and I needed a miracle. I’ll never lose faith, but there are times it’s hanging by a thread. It doesn’t matter how big or how small your need is, God knows and He will take care of it in the best way possible. We may not always know or understand why He does things the way He does, but he’s always got our best interest as a priority. I hope my little everyday miracle blesses you and reassures you that God can do anything.

P.S. I’ve never really been much of a cat person, but there are two in my life that have been pretty special, Daisy is one of them. She’s the only cat I’ve ever known that came to me and kissed me when I was upset. She’s special, in more ways than one.

I’m tired…

And that’s the sum of all my thoughts right now. I want to curl up in a blanket and watch Christmas movies all day. Here’s hoping you get a nap today.

And now I present to you, a bunch of sleeping pictures. 🙂

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And my favorite….

My husband's dog, Todd when he was a bit younger :-)

My husband’s dog, Todd when he was a bit younger 🙂

MOM!!!

I love being a mom. When my youngest crawls in my lap and lays his head on my shoulder, just wanting to cuddle, it makes my day. When my oldest says, “Mom, I love you…” out of the blue, it melts my heart. I love how they dance, the little things they make at school, and how they try to be big boys. I’m never so proud as when they do something selfless or compassionate and I get the feeling maybe I’m doing at least something right when I get compliments on how well behaved they are. I have two pretty special little boys and being a mom really isn’t that hard….

All you have to do is laundry, which, really isn’t much more than a load or two at a time. Until…..it’s time to wash the towels or the bedding, well, even then it’s just a couple more loads. Unless….someone gets sick, and then you have to wash towels, bedding, and clothing (your’s and your child’s) all while shampooing carpets, mopping floors, and trying to figure out how to get that smell out of the couch as well as how you clean old dried upchuck off of other random things (seriously, how does a kid throw up in the middle of the night and not wake up???). Then it might be kind of hard.

And then there’s the dishes, psshhh, that’s a breeze. Until….you’re cleaning your kids room and find 4 bowls and 3 cups that you thought had disappeared, oh and one of the cups had milk in it, at least you think it was milk. Is it really supposed to be that color and hairy like that? Ok, so you can throw that cup away, no big deal. Unless….you host a sleepover and forget to buy paper and plasticware. No kids can’t eat their cake off the same plate their pizza was on, don’t you know anything?! That might be a few extra dishes.

Cleaning bathrooms, although a somewhat unpleasant job, isn’t entirely difficult. Until…you have a little boy, who invariably tries to write his name while going pee. Yeah, that’s a lot of fun cleaning that up, but not that bad. Unless….you have a child who accidentally uses too much paper, flushes and doesn’t tell you until it’s too late. If you’ve been there, you don’t need to ask when it’s too late. And really how on earth do they get it to smell that bad in there? And mine are still little! Ok, so that job doesn’t sound as easy as I first thought.

Bathtime, now there’s one we can agree on being super simple. Until….somehow your child didn’t realize the curtain goes INSIDE the tub while showering. Eh, it’s a little water, it’ll dry. Unless, not only does your child think it’s hurricane season and they’re the latest, greatest storm blazing through the Atlantic leaving water spots on the ceiling but also, in their fascination with the swirling water going down the drain they don’t pay a bit of attention to the washcloth and 3 bath toys that disappear into the abyss. Yeah, here’s hoping you have little hands or are on good terms with a plumber. Hmm, that level of difficulty quickly shot up.

I think you get the picture 😉 And of course, if you’re a mom, no explanation needed. There are days you’ll come over and my house will look just like I want it. Everything picked up and put in it’s place, not a dirty dish or pair of underwear in sight. And then there are those other days. Those days where it looks like a bomb went off. Like my house was hit by a meteor, tornado, hurricane, or all of the above at the same time. That’s when I’ve had a bad day and you should offer me wine before even uttering a word of hello.

When he came home, he was worried about the status of everything in the house. He asked her, "What on earth happened??" She replied, "You know when you asked me what I do all day? Well today I didn't do it."

When he came home, he was worried about the status of everything in the house, thinking something was terribly wrong. He asked her, “Are you ok?? What on earth happened?!” She replied, “You know when you asked me what I do all day? Well today I didn’t do it.”

And yet, the good times make it all worth it. No, really they do, I’m not just saying that. 😉

Mighty Mouse

When I was little (very little), I used to watch two cartoons (that I can remember)…. Underdog and Mighty Mouse. Little did I know that those two would come together to form an unforgettable night of my adulthood, only I was the Underdog and Mighty Mouse was my nemesis.

Sit back and enjoy a stroll down memory lane with me, of a night that will forever be imprinted on my mind, or at least until I reach my golden years and forget everything but the words to the BC Clark Jingle.

First a little back story…. From time to time we’ve had those nasty, furry little boogers in our house (and if you haven’t, you’re either super lucky or lying, I’m just saying). It seems like we’ll go months without a single sign and then a family of the stinkers moves in. I say family because it seems a little coincidental for more than one to show up at the exact same time, but what do I know. Anyways, as I was saying, we’ve had a handful here and there, but have always been able to outsmart them, mostly thanks to the RatZapper 2000… Ok so I don’t really know what it’s called, but it’s an actual RAT trap that runs off of 4 C batteries, get the picture? Yeah, it’s a wicked dude and I love it to pieces!

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Well, needless to say on the days leading up to the night in question, the RatZapper was out of commision. Seriously people, I almost cried. I’d turn it on, it would buzz and say it was done. No more frying the little beady eyed monsters until it was fixed so I resorted to the glue traps. Fairly tried and true, I’ve used them before and they work. I hate disposing of them, but at least they catch the mouse. Well, this time they didn’t….at all…. I’m not kidding you, I think I just taught ‘Mighty Mouse’ how to avoid them by setting the bar a little higher every time. If you had visited my house at that point in time, you’d have wondered if I was trying to decorate with the stupid things, they were everywhere! I was about to pull my hair out, which, in turn, led to my story. Yeah, yeah, we took the scenic route to get here, get over it 😉

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Once upon a time, I was cooking dinner and drinking wine. I think it was just one glass, maybe two, who remembers that part… As I was slaving away at the stove, Warren exclaims, “I just saw the mouse!!” To which my husband and I responded to by running to the living room and divising a plan to finally get rid of the stupid thing. We couldn’t see it, but knew it was trapped in a spot where it would have to run out in the open to get somewhere safe, especially with some prodding. I laid a line of traps (sticky ones) along the only way out, and even more along another wall, just in case he somehow got past the first set. My husband started pulling furniture out and called his dog, Todd in the room (Todd has been known to be a very helpful and successful mouser). Mark starts giving the ‘hunt’ command and Todd goes to work. We were hoping he’d either catch the mouse or flush it out. This is when I had my bright idea. You see, I was so stinking fed up with this (insert lots of choice words here) mouse I was NOT going to let it get away this time. Remember, I’ve had a glass, or maybe two, of wine by this point and decided I needed to get the BB gun, because by golly, I’ve taken down deer, wild hogs, and other bad mofos and it’ll be a snap to go all terminator on this cheese-eater.

Mighty mouse

Just like in the game Mouse-Trap it all started with the smallest of actions and played out like a string of dominos. I was sitting on the floor, BB gun aimed where I knew the mouse would come out, Mark was sicking Todd in and around the furniture and the boys were standing back watching it all when the mouse made his move. He came flying out of his hiding spot so fast it was all a blur. I was startled by his Speedy Gonzales like movements and his, get this, cat-like reflexes. 😉 He shot across the floor and around one set of traps and I’m pretty sure he vaulted over the second set. I jumped and pulled the trigger as he zoomed out of sight with only the sound of the BB bouncing off the wall. Sadly he disappeared somewhere into the abyss, probably laughing his evil little laugh that he’d beat us yet again, but not for long. This story has a happy ending as my husband went all old-school on him and put out the snap traps with a tootsie roll and cookie crisp. His days came to an end that night and I was never so happy to find that tripped trap the next morning!

Moral of the story…Oh, wait, there isn’t one, I just thought it was funny, so enjoy! Or don’t if you’re some mouse hugging, PETA type 😉

The measure of success

Sometimes I wonder about my situation… I see people building big, new, beautiful houses, spending thousands of dollars on Christmas gifts, and taking vacations to foreign places. But I also see people paying change for a loaf of bread, driving a car that breaks down every other day, and freezing at night because their heat has been turned off. I see the successful people and I wonder, “Why don’t I have that?” and I notice the ‘other’ people and wonder why I’m blessed to have everything I need. But wait, what did I say about success? Yes, I referred to the people with lots of money and expensive stuff as successful. Isn’t that right? I mean, in this country we measure success by monetary standards, don’t we? The ones with the biggest houses, fullest bank accounts, and most traveled are who most people wish they could be. My question is why….

I have heard on more than one occasion, “I’m sure glad I’m not going to be where they are when I’m that age, I’ll actually be successul!” or “Almost 30 years old without a real job and mooching off her husband…” or even, “They don’t even live in a real house.” and more, but again, let’s go back to my question. Why is success measured by money, cash, greenbacks, moolah, G’s, etc (are you seeing that we have a lot of words for little slips of paper we use as currency?)? Sure, anyone is free to make the assumption that I’m questioning this because I don’t have it, that’s their perogative, but that also tells me what I need to know about them. They are the kind of person who is responsible for this standard.

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Let me throw out an idea for you that would possibly, no guarantee of course, but just maybe make this world a better place. What if we measured ‘success’ by how much we helped? Just think about it….how many stories have you heard about someone helping out another person (or animal) and it blew up in their face? Very few, if any, I would venture to guess. Compare that to how many times you’ve heard of a wealthy person losing their mind or all of their money because they couldn’t handle it. You can’t lose the good that you’ve done. Sure there are going to be people who don’t appreciate it or who make fun of trying to be a do-gooder (most of the time those will be the people who don’t do good and feel guilty about it), but there will also be people who are so beyond grateful the time was taken to make them important, to put a smile on their face, or to help them survive another day. And guess what, the relationship with Christ that I have, I can take all the good with me when I leave this earth. Not one single penny or hundred dollar bill will pass with me when I go, but the good will. And no, I’m not saying all wealthy people self-destruct or that it’s bad to have a lot of things. God wants us blessed, but He also wants to bless us so we may bless others.

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So think about what you want to do this Christmas…. buy more ‘things’ that we all have to find a place for, or maybe just think about giving up a few of those luxuries to help someone who needs it. You’ll know success when you see the look on someone’s face that you took the time for.

Hear ye, hear ye!

Please excuse me whilst I hop aboard this little soap box of mine….

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I have to be honest, this is a scary place for me to be. Not because I’m afraid of ‘heights’ but because I very much dislike confrontation and public attention. And save me the “Why are you putting yourself out there in a blog then?” outcry because sometimes we have to do the uncomfortable. Let me also give a reminder that I have the right to unapprove or delete any comments that are ugly, rude, or downright malicious. (Look at me all battle ready, like people actually read my blog 😉 ) Ladies and gentleman, suit up, I’m treading on dangerous territory and although I may not be looking forward to the personal attacks, I feel this must be said.

If you have ever owned or ever plan on owning a pet, be it a dog, hamster, fish, cat, snake, or rhinoceros, it is a commitment and a responsibility. Shall we delve into what those two words mean, as I believe they are being used a lot lately, but not correctly.

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Commitment: An agreement or pledge to do something in the future….The state or instance of being obligated or emotionally impelled. Responsibility: The act of being responsible (able to answer for one’s conduct and obligations).

So what do we have here? Being able to answer for one’s conduct and obligations which proceed into the future. I am downright sick and tired of the way these two words are being thrown around and used daily in reference to buying, adopting, rescuing, saving, or owning a living, breathing being. Heck, if I really wanted to put myself on the radar, I’d point out that this doesn’t just have to apply to animals (obviously the owning part might have to be edited a bit, oh, and probably the buying as well). What on earth makes people think that impulse is a great idea when it comes to pets? Now, let me address that, yes, sometimes God places special little dogs, lizards, or camels in our lives that we may or may not have been planning on, but I’m not chastising those who are resonsible people when put in those positions (exceptions to every rule). I’m talking about the “Hey! I’m sitting here watching tv and the Sarah McLachlan sob story commercial comes on and even though I’ve never owned a pet, live in a 30th story apartment the size of a pea, and work 16 hours a day, I think I’ll go get a pony!” Please, please, please, for the love of Pete do some research! I really don’t know very many people who would use the same type of approach to buying a car or a house and neither of those have a heartbeat.

We live in a day and age when people push the mantra, if it feels good, do it. Well guess what, it doesn’t feel good to get a cavitity filled, but it sure as heck felt good to eat that candy. Pleasing oneself in the moment can be disastrous. And when you involve another life in that ‘thrill of the moment’ you can ultimately be responsible for it’s demise. I know you’re thinking,” Whoa, whoa, a little dramatic aren’t we?” Yeah, it is dramatic, but wouldn’t you be putting on a show the likes of Broadway if people weren’t listening? How do you get someone’s attention who’s been so self absorbed they can’t even see their own backside is on fire? You shock them. Buzz buzz, here it comes. When you get a pet, be it from a breeder, shelter, rescue, or ‘oops the neighbor’s hamster is knocked up,’ you are now the sole provider for said pet and they depend on you for EVERYTHING. You are now responsible for doing your best to raise (or possibly fix) a respectful, disciplined dog/cat/horse/chimpanzee. You commit to that animal and a majority of the time, you will have the best family member in the household. Notice I said a majority of the time. I won’t pretend that every connection is going to work. I’ve had a dog that didn’t mesh well with my situation at the time and I still regret that I took him in without mentally preparing myself for what he really was. But, the good thing is he ended up going back to his breeder where he lived (still lives?) a happy and fulfilled life. That’s the other side of the responsibility coin. When it doesn’t work, you find a place that it will. And that’s NOT the shelter. That’s NOT taking them out to the middle of BFE and dumping them. That’s NOT pawning them off on some unsuspecting person for them to dump the pet at the shelter.

I feel that I need to wrap this up for today as to not push too many buttons in one afternoon, but I do feel a few more parts to this in the works. P.S. My disclaimer, if you are offended by this in any way, please come talk to me. I’m honestly not trying to rub anyone the wrong way, only trying to make people think. And if I’ve come across the wrong way, contact me personally so we can talk about it 🙂