I needed to get a few things from WalMarx. As I drove down my street I noticed a turtle making his way across the road, very turtley – slowy, that is. He drew his head and limbs back into his shell when I drove past and as I approached the upcoming stop sign, he peeked back out and began moving again. As soon as he had worked up a pace, a tow truck came swinging around and missed him by an inch.
I turned around and pulled over, jogging across the road, picking him up and carrying him to the other side. While I did this, two police cars drove by. I stood and watched the turtle get into his stride and make for the ditch in front of him before getting back in the car and u-turning along my merry way.
Not 5 minutes later were there blue lights flashing behind me. I wondered if I’d fallen into the speed trap they’d just set by bumping a 45 mph zone down to a 35 mph, and tried to think if I had been going over the limit. I was sure I hadn’t.
I rolled down my window and tried to curb my annoyance so that it wasn’t obvious to the officer. The police don’t like bitches you know. He leaned down, taking his shades off, rested his elbows on the edge of the mostly hidden glass and smiled.
“You just rescued that box turtle back there didn’t you?”
I was puzzled, wondering if I’d broken some new don’t-fuck-with-the-wild-life law but just said “Yes.”
“That was really nice of you, I just wanted to tell you that.” he said, still smiling. At that time I noticed how straight and white his teeth were. And how smooth and tan his skin was. And how bright and blue his eyes were. And how tousled and chocolate brown his hair was. And how strong and defined his forearms were…
“Oh, I had to – I almost hit him, and I’m the most cautious person when it comes to animals on the road.”
He stepped back and rested his hand on his holster, eyes sparkling as he squinted against the sun. Then he leaned a bit forward again and asked “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I hesitated for a split second. I almost said no, but I couldn’t get it out. It just felt…wrong. So, I said what I’ve always said, every time I’ve been asked any variation of that question for the past 5 years: “I’m married.”
He continued smiling and said, “Well he’s lucky. Hope he knows it. Have a great day ma’am.” With that he walked back to his car.
I pulled back onto the road and thought about the last time I saved a turtle. How on our way home, J. was driving and I didn’t even have to tell him to pull over because he already knew I wanted him to. How when we arrived home the girls and I walked the smelly little turtle down to the lake while he carried in all the groceries and then he came down to watch it disappear into the grass with us. Remembering that; it was the first time since everything transpired that I really, really missed him.
For about a year and a half now I’ve blogged solely on MySpace. I’ve decided that before ImmoralMatriarch.com, I will transfer majority of the blogs that I have there, over here in order to make it easier to import them to Wordpress when I’m ready because I’ll be deleting them as I move them, and also to give you all new things to read on days when I don’t feel like writing. Such as today. *snicker*
When I was young I slept with a Koala. I loved Koala Bears and I’ve always wanted to go Australia and observe them in their natural habitat. It was the main reason I wanted to become a zoologist as well. The Koala’s name was Scruffz. I named him that because instead of being soft and cuddly, he was hard and scruffy. For 6 years he was my favorite toy. I kept him even when his eyes started to fall off and his stuffing [which wasn’t cottony fluff like in other stuffed animals] started falling out. When he became too ragged and was beyond repair, he was banished to the attic by my grandmother for being an eyesore.Last year, while reminiscing with my grandparents and uncle about how attached I was to Scruffz, my uncle asked my grandmother what happened to the taxidermied Koala he brought back from Australia before I was born. After some intense thought, she deduced that Scruffz was that same Koala.I had not spent my younger years sleeping with a toy animal. I was sleeping with a real, dead, stuffed Koala. No wonder his fur was rough. And his claws were way sharper than would’ve been allowed by any toy manufacturer. I was crushed. Sickened, and crushed. Poor Scruffz, man.
Are you serious?
I mean are you seriously, really, serious?
You liken breeders to the Klu Klux Klan? The KKK?
Do you not see the more valid comparison of your organization to them, rather than that of breeders and dog shows? Well…I’ll be happy to break it down for you.
Domestic dogs were created. They were bred, selectively for particular traits over hundreds of years. Those that are recognized by the AKC have been established for decades. Breeders – good breeders, reputable breeders, responsible breeders – are ensuring that the lines and characteristics of these breeds are not lost amongst the inferior specimens resulting from backyard breeders and puppy mills. They are making sure that there are always good, stable, certain dogs of their particular breeds in population.
Yes, there are millions of dogs dying every year in shelters and on the street. I won’t even go into how thousands of them die at your hands, PeTA – at your over sized facility, stored in your freezer until they can be cremated and disposed of discreetly. Or how sometimes you don’t even murder them humanely, euthanizing them in the backs of vans and dumping their carcasses in grocery store dumpsters.
But eliminating *responsible* breeding will not help. Only demanding that the entire population of companion animals in existence right now be spayed or neutered will and I don’t have to tell you that that’s impossible. And since it is impossible, all we can do is encourage and even enforce responsible ownership. People failing to alter their animals is where the problem lies.
Responsible breeders actually screen the people that they release their animals to. They place spay/neuter clauses in their contracts and will always accept back an unwanted animal, no matter the reason, no matter the age or condition. They are devoted to the animals that they produce and do everything in their power to ensure that they are in good, loving homes. What do you do besides complain and waste money? Nothing.
Now, you know what’s more alike to the Klu Klux Klan than maintaining purebreds? Hmmm?
It’s Breed Specific Legislation, PeTA. And you support that, don’t you? Not only are for the eradication of seeing eye dogs and therapy animals, but you actually recommend that all Pit Bulls and dogs resembling Pit Bulls amongst other supposedly ‘dangerous’ breeds be euthanized, simply for being what they are – what they were born – regardless of whether or not they’ve committed any wrong doing. Sound familiar? Sound more logical of an argument for accusations of bigotry than simply breeding? Yeah…
And you have the nerve to attack or protest Michael Vick? While he did was despicable and I would love to see him rot in hell with the remains of the animals he tortured and murdered – you are worse. You bask in your hypocrisy and do anything and everything you can to garner attention – to photograph the newest hot celebrity no matter what they *really* believe.
Dogs are dying.
People are still not altering their pets.
People are still dumping animals on the streets for stupid reasons.
With all the millions of dollars you bring in from ignorant animal lovers you could have countless Animal Sanctuaries around the world, housing for life the animals needing homes. Yet you’d rather kill them and keep it moving – prosecuting fast food chains and purchasing billboards.
Well fuck you PeTA. I take great offense at your audacity.
I hope that one day, after all of the eyes in the world have been opened to your bullshit that you will crumble.
[Pictured above is a PeTA ad featuring Dita Von Teese in all of her hotness, a consistent wearer and lover of fur...see the stupidity of them yet?]
—————— On another note, a good bloggy friend of mine who will be redesigning my blog for me this month is hosting a contest. Her name is Courtney but you can call her Judith Shakespeare. You should go check her out and fiend over the contest prize.
