Ingrid E. Newkirk. "Get a life!"

 

I hate it when people use the phrase, "get a life" (or the phrases, "lighten up" and "you have way too much time on your hands", for that matter). However, in the case of PETA president Ingrid E. Newkirk, the phrase fits.

Our own Wisconsin Congressman Paul Ryan was the receipient of PETA's 2012 Bad Dad award for taking his daughter deer hunting with him.

Ho-hum.

So, Ingrid...you and your organization are behind many great causes which I support. Which begs the questions:  Why don't you limit your activities to areas where you at least have a chance to effect change (which is what your organization is all about) instead of fumbling uselessly over some misguided publicity stunt to get your organization in the news? All you're accomplishing is the risk of alienating potential supporters AND running the risk of being considered "crackpots". Paul Ryan is not going to stop hunting with his daughter. If his daughter loses interest, then she loses interest. But it won't be because of a "bad dad" award.

It's like years ago when PETA petitioned the Green Bay Packers to change their name (Packers) as it referenced the meat packing industry which first sponsored the team. I mean, if God came down to earth and asked the Packers to change their name they wouldn't. again. Why makes such useless, innane demands that will NEVER be met? Idiocy.

Newkirk writes, “I live only for [animals], because if I didn’t have them I would have killed myself a long time ago.”

Hmmm...I would think a PETA person would even frown upon that, Ingrid.

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Domino Almost Swims with the Fishes

3 days.

That's the length of time a pup named Domino had a carefree, exciting and wonderful life.

My roommate bought a 4-month-old puppy on an "impulse purchase" on her way home from Vegas this past weekend. I was introduced to Domino on Sunday and wrote about the pup Monday as part of the one year anniversary of my blog, PASSION = TRUTH.

It's Wednesday. And Domino is at the vet's, bit by my roommate's other dog this morning while both dogs were being supervised by my roommate's 6-year-old son.

Say I told you so, Martie.

My last words to my roommate before she left the house Tuesday night and I stayed home to watch the kid - and the puppy: "NO - there is no way I'm letting the boy play with the puppy alone without you here. I am not supervising the boy and the dog together. The puppy will stay in its cage."

Famous last words.

Apparently the boy threw dog food near both dogs and that's how the puppy got bit. We'll never know what REALLY happened. The boy certainly can't be relied upon as a witness. Earlier the night before I had both dogs together in a controlled situation and they were fine. The older dog growled a smidgeon (as if irritated) but it was nothing out of the ordinary. The point is - I was there watching.

a.) A puppy is not something you buy on "impulse", like a candy bar or Chapstick.

b.) When your hand's "are full" already, why are you bringing a puppy into the house? Because it's cute, I know. I think puppies are cute as hell. I think babies are cute (baby Grace in Tunjunga, for example). I think it would be interesting to have sex with a high class hooker one day - just to say I did (and write about it). That doesn't mean I have sex irresponsibly just to have a child - or with high class hookers...just because it's a fun thing to do.

c.) When you already have one dog that's a pit-lab mix and very territorial, you have to strongly consider how you introduce another dog into the mix (even if that dog is a pit-lab mix, or so she was told), if you're going to bring a puppy into said environment anyway.

d.) You don't leave the puppy or both dogs alone with a 6-year-old who just a few days ago scratched the shit out of your SUV with his "nails" (uh-huh) - a child that would make me suspicious of entrusting him with a pet rock. Let me rephrase that - NOT suspicious, but QUITE CERTAIN I wouldn't leave him with a pet rock.

ALL points I explicitly made and repeated to my roommate, but - alas, to no avail. It's not my house. I've never owned a dog. What do I know? When I asked how the dog was, my roommate said to me, "Do you care?". For the record, I do care. Enough to make the arguments above; enough to voice my opinion that this particular home is NO HOME for a puppy; enough that I threatened to call the human society in lieu of potential problems I could forsee happening.

Course I exaggerate the situation. I'm a curmudgeon. I complain. I'm angry. I'm bitter. I need to smile. And now cute Domino has a broken nose, a gash above its eye that has swollen, who knows what future medical issues and who knows what psychological damage (but that's a whole nuther can of worms) and her high-pitched screams of pain and fright from this morning are still ringing in my ears. (By the way, I saw nothing because I was indisposed in the bathroom.).

And boy - how I hated to be right. Hang in there, Domino. "Life will get better." It's my mantra these days.

UPDATE: While talking to my roommate last night, she said it's all her fault this incident occurred - not her son's, and that once Domino comes home everything will be fine. She'll keep an eye on everyone - the big dog, the puppy and her son. As an aside (as she walked away from me), she said it wasn't cool that I left the house yesterday morning with the big dog locked in the bathroom and the coffee on. ???? The neighbor was there when I left. Has nothing to do with anything. Stupid.)

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