Animal

It is sort of odd to think about now, but when I was a kid, I was scared of animals. I couldn’t rightly tell you why, exactly, but then that seemed to be a perfectly normal fear for kids to be having, so perhaps an explanation isn’t required. But indeed, the most vivid recollection of this fear to this day stands out clear:

We had gone to the TVO headquarters. TVO being the local province’s channel - not that I knew that at the time, and actually, I was never actually sure what it was until writing this and realizing I may have to sound as if I knew something about it, which I don’t really, not that this is a government funded educational network, all I knew in my time with the channel was that it was where we found most of our favourite kids shows. The Polkadot Door, The Elephant Show…etc. Anyways, at this exhibition at the TVO headquarters, we had the chance to see and touch a live beaver. And for the life of me, I wasn’t able to make myself do it. I was freaked out. My younger siblings were fine, they stretched out their tiny tiny hands and gave it a pat or two. Me on the other hand, hysterics. NO WAY was I touching that thing.

The thing is, I loved animals…in theory. But we just never had the experience of dealing with them hands on. My cousin in New York had a cat, Queenie, and I did like her, except…well, she was one of those poncy type cats, who had airs and believed she was rightly named. Moreover, while I used to try to entice her (at a safe distance, always) with scraps of processed cheese left in a trail experimentally to see if she would actually follow it (but no her fatness and laziness greatly overcame her greed, I came to conclude), she actually came within very close proximity – a new thing for both of us – and I found myself gazing at her green eyes and persuading myself that this was the time for me to overcome my hesitation of touching an animal.

She left me with four claw marks, each so perfectly placed along the side of each four fingers of the hand that had reached out to pet her.

So much for my animal love.

To try and trace the fear, I could also share the few cloudy memories of having visited my grandparents out in the countryside, where they had a number of dogs. Whiskey and Brandy were two hugely ferocious and scary dogs – the type that were large, menacing, didn’t shut up with their barking, and perpetually drooled while baring their fangs at you. For some reason an uncle found it immensely amusing to taunt me by pushing me closer and closer toward the dog’s reach, for the dog was leashed on a chain that could only go so far. I recall that memory being graced with my tears.

On the other hand, I still for some reason, loved animals…in theory. I can’t explain it, I just always feel this secret bond with them. I see them – bird, squirrel, dog, cat, whatever - and something within me kind of awakens, I feel as if I am continuing an ongoing conversation.

Aside from Whiskey and Brandy (and yes, my grandfather liked his drink), there was this whitish, husky-type dog (and for the record, this has always been my favourite type of dog). It was leashed apart from the other dogs, I don’t know why, but it was to the other side of the house, and under a great tree that stretched upward along the side of the second-story balcony. That is where I spent many hours, looking down at the dog whom I decided to call “Princess” – and I persuaded myself that we, Princess and I, were great friends, and that with special whistles and other noises, we were communicating. In fact, I also wrote special notes with drawings on tiny scraps of paper, and floated them down to Princess.

It was many years before I ever thought to ask what happened to Princess, but for some reason noone could recall a dog named Princess, and I tried to describe the childhood memory, about that dog that was tied to the tree on that side of the house – only to be told, OH THAT DOG, that dog was a male.

It was a number of years later that we visited our relatives in New York to discover that my favourite cousin had gotten himself a pair of ferrets. This isn’t your usual pet, and indeed most people – you included I would not be surprised to say – would react with disbelief or even disgust at the idea of harbouring a rodent-like animal such as this as a pet.

And yeeaah, the first couple of visits I was all askance too. Then I fell in love with Booboo.

Booboo was the bigger of the two. All he did was sleep, eat and lay about. That’s it. A gentle bundle of fur that totally totally won my heart over. Booboo was essentially mine. The other one, Nippy, lived up to her name: she nipped everyone she could with her tiny little incisors, and was a skinny, ratty, feisty and fast little thing. Booboo was my love. I could relate with Booboo because – not that I was fat or whatever – but simply that gentle, quiet, laidback easygoing nature that totally reflected mine. When I think of Booboo, I remember laying back on the sofa with Booboo on my chest, watching Balto. Some of my best memories were those summers spent with Booboo. I even created a soapstone sculture for an art exhibit of Booboo – years after the sad news that both ferrets were gone.

After Booboo, I was totally cured of my fear of animals. I was cured of loving animals only in theory. I would visit the pet shop that was in the same building as my workplace every chance I could.

Then came Milly. My 1-year old baby kitten. I can’t even begin to describe the magic that comes with having her in my life. So I won’t even try. Instead I’m going to end this and have a good cuddle with her.

Relativity of Death

http://www.minds.com/blog/view/201538/quite-possibly-the-most-eye-opening-six-minutes-ever-on-film

"I have a friend who works at one of these facilities.He stopped eating animal products a few weeks after he started the job because it's that gross and inhumane to both animals and human workers. I showed him this video and he says the facility shown here is actually immaculately clean and well-taken care of; most CAFOs and slaughterhouses keep humans and animals alike in much crueler conditions."

Kitten Luff

Sometimes the really happy loved up moments you want to keep private and to yourself.  That's how I've felt since Friday night regarding this really happy secret. But that sort of defeats the purpose of my blog: the daily account of my life. 

I am still smarting the healing scratches of a frightened new baby entering a new home alone and apart from his biological family. And after a weekend of glorious hugs, kisses, cuddling and play, leaving my baby this morning was hard to do, on both sides. He's become so at home, running up and down the stairs freely, following me everywhere, standing guard when he thinks I need guarding (even when it is right behind my heels while I am doing the dishes), and he has this habit of stretching forward and splaying out both paws on my feet when he wants my attention. He's become quite vocal now, talking to me in that way only babies (and baby kittens) can. He has learnt to listen to me when I tell him not to do something, and I've learnt to let him learn from his own mistakes (but then again which parent really has a choice? sigh). There is nothing as precious as when he climbs onto my lap to fall asleep, although he does it so frequently I guess it's not such a big deal. I guess you can say my motherly instincts are having one helluva party right now.

17

Good morningggggggggg world!

Tis a beautiful day, with a whole load of randomly right reasons making it so: first the summer weather that has returned, the fact it's the Friday of a long weekend, it's May, and it's my fave number on the calendar! I haven't even had coffee yet.

In other news, we'd just been hit with an 4.8 earthquake. And in this part of the world, any earthquake at all however minuscule is big news (yes we're a fortunate bunch).

I've been waiting to introduce you all to the blog of one of my oldest besties - but she's been delaying her writing before it's even happened. Simultaneously, Wanderer has had way better luck with her best friend's blog actually being open for business (ekthitigress.blogspot.com). Both these events have made me super excited over the last couple of days, because nothing beats hanging out with your best friend of almost a decade, and having them join you in something you love doing is awesome, along with having your 'childhood' best friend meet your other best friends :P

I'd share her blog url with you, but I'm waiting for her to start writing. Anyways, I'll still introduce you to her: Meet Angel. She's been a huge part of who I was in my phase between girlhood to womanhood. (I know I know, I'm still somewhere in between them but then again which female isn't?) - she's spent countless hours with me, having random conversations, giggling over the smallest things, sharing the biggest dreams, been there while I had my girlhood heart broken and, well since I've known her she's just been the friend who three simple words stood any test of time and has been our silent motto: "no matter what".

I can go on and on about her, and I think I'll save some of that for another time.. but I'm hoping this will have her peeking out from her hiding spot :P

Happy Friday everyone!

Bedim: Still Catching up. Days 4 and 5

Day 4, Saturday: Favorite quote (from a person, from a book, etc) and why you love it.

When we encounter a question regarding our favourite quote, we already expect that the answer is going to actually entail quite a few. But since this 'assignment of the day' says singular, I'm going to keep it simple and pull out one out of the great number that have accompanied through my years.

Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.

It might seem amazing how often this quote can apply through every different situation, but then again that's exactly it: it's about life. So often what details our interactions with other people is not only what we or they do, it's how we all react.

For instance, when someone angers you, you have the choice of lashing back, or taking the high road and ignoring them. Lashing back gives that person the satisfaction of knowing they have that power over you, to make you react to them in such a fashion, or simply, to react at all. And that's on the outside, the 'public reaction'. What about inside - where you're really feeling the need to tell them off, get down 'n' dirty, vocally beat them up, or maybe even physically beat them up? What I've found is that you become a better person within- eventually - when you're able to control how you react on the outside. Soon, the words of other people fall off, "water off a duck's back", and they become insignificant, as unworthy of your attention as the little critters down below in the cracks in the sidewalk, probably less so. You develop an unwavering cool and calm. (From this one can then figure out that the people I do react to without the 'cool and calm face' are those who mean a helluva lot to me.)

Is it about ego? Not necessarily; I'd say it's about you preserving the wholeness of who you are. It's maintaining the goodness of your own being, we could say it's our own karma.

Which brings me to another thought, often we are presented with the choices in the moment we are to react. The way we choose to react actually guides how we retroactively believe we really feel about the situation. When you choose the easy anger route, and react accordingly, when you look back to whatever stimulated the reaction, you feel that yes you were actually angry about it right away. Contrastedly, had you chosen the cool "let it go" reaction, your recollection of the moment would make you feel that it wasn't actually such a big thing, and in fact below you. The way we react colours our actual cognition of recollection, our memory of emotion. Our reactions are so much more tangible, that it's easier to say 'I reacted this way of course I must have been pissed off', rather than trying to untangle the folds of feelings you may have felt originally. Often we forget that we choose how we react.

Day 5, Sunday: Publicly profess your love and devotion for one of your blogger friends. What makes them great? Why do you love them? If you don't have blogger friends, talk about a real-life friend or even a family member

Ahh, this is one of the worst assignments ever for me! I hate making mushy public declarations. I mean, the people I love know I love them - without having to dramatize it! And I like keeping it that way. But okay, okay.

First on my list is Wanderer. Kiara, Roo, Granny....the reason why she's first is because the assignment itself says 'blogger friends' so I'm keeping with the literal 'blogger friends' dictum by singling her out. This girl, years younger, and yet, since the very first time I laid eyes on her (well, her writing), I felt such a strong bond. The first time I did this was before I even registered my own blog. I was visiting Jiya's blog, reading one of J's posts about being down and depressed, and before I wrote my own comment of consolation, I was absolutely taken by the depth of insight, maturity in the one comment that was already there. I clicked on the commenter's name, visited her blog, and somehow I learnt that she was only 17 years old! To put what she wrote and that maturity with her age just bowled me over. When I write about this bond we have, I get a little teary-eyed. I'm getting it now too. But yeah, I think even if I were to give a little speech at her wedding years from now, I may even say this very same thing. Of course, by then we'll already have a ton more memories made, a lot of crazy antics, randomness and blah blah. Despite the number of years between us, I feel a similarity of frequency that's beyond explanation. And yet, we're so different in our own ways (thank heavens, who wants another IQ?)...and I know she's going to grow into one of the most magnificent women ever. I guess you can see how much of it is mutual by how much I'm rambling about her.

Second is Ajay Kontham. Again rank due to the 'blogger friend' dictum. There is an adorable quality about this dude, he rambles on about his life with such honesty, you can't not like him. He writes quite abundantly, and he does it so easily, for the reader I mean (he's often said how he struggles just to write things, and how many drafts he has hidden in his post folder)...it's enjoyable reading him. Makes me feel as if I'm reading an excerpt from a totally personable novel, a narration of an average guy's life, and I like that. He makes me laugh at odd times, at his clumsy way of trying to lecture himself or, in the past, disclaim whatever he writes as absolute nonsense. He's stopped doing that lately which is such a relief to all and sundry, because the guy can write. And he knows it, or he wouldn't write. But he has a great humbleness about himself, he doesn't try to be a real hero about it, he's down to earth about stuff like that, though you can tell he wishes he was Dexter:P

And that brings me to my friend Nerdyy who has only recently opened his OWN blog, and has been making good use of himself there. He's taken to blogging with such an ease that you can't help but say ABOUT TIME BUDDY, about him actually doing it. And can you imagine, he was going to wait till Summer to open his own blog. Good grief. Anyways, now I have a place where I can kick off my shoes and comment away :P "snarkily" as he says about my comments. Well he's just one of those great friends I CAN be totally snarky with and he knows its all with great love, afterall our friendship bloomed with a scornful look of disdain directed his way :D But yeah, another thing I need to point out about why he deserves a place in this write up is his consistent support and encouragement with his comments, in whichever silly crazy form they take.

Seeing as this is already getting lengthy, I have to end it with one more person who I cannot leave out. Mr. Invisible Smoke. He's always last but not least on these kind of lists. He ranks less as a 'blogger friend' or net friend at all, because he's there to poke and bug in real life. But yes, his grudging entry onto Blogger happened a year ago, again with my coercion. Thinking about his growth on blogger makes me swell with pride, because it charts his development as a cook. Prior to his first attempt, he thought he would burn water and didn't know how to work a rice cooker. If you go through his posts these days, you wouldn't believe it. In fact, last week Wanderer asked me what does Smoke do for a living? Is he a chef? - I kid you not. She really thought he was that good, to be a chef! But truly and honestly, I can't even put in words how amazingly proud I am of him, so I won't even try. Likewise, as my best friend, he's been a great encourager and supporter through all I do. The nonsense I write, making time to listen to every song I post and comment on it all, even reading my essays when I send them to him, when he has no clue what they're about..So this assignment couldn't be completed without mentioning him. Quit gloating now.

I have some honorary mentions of course: 

Layla - she has a hard time doing so much work, but she tries..and its her trying that touches the heart. :D

Ether - again a quiet and observing commenter, an AWESOME writer himself.

Jiya - because through her I met Kiara, and then AK, and somehow from visiting her blog I was in the mindset to start writing on blogger itself. :)

My New Pet

Meet my red panda. I absolutely entirely thoroughly utterly WUB its :) EEEEEEE.

Pigs

Pigs are intelligent, aware creatures, with an intellect comparable to that of dogs. Factory farmed pigs spend their lives in intensive confinement, painfully restricted to a crate that is 18 to 24 inches wide.

Under these conditions pigs resort to biting each other, usually one another's tails. Farmers respond by cutting off the pigs' tails, while boars' noses are broken to keep them from fighting.

Sows are turned into living reproduction machines, artificially inseminated on "rape racks" when they are just six to eight months old. Pregnancy lasts about four months, yielding litter of approximately a dozen piglets. Against all natural instinct, the sow is forced to tend to her young in a pen on a bare cement floor, scarcely large enough to hold her body. The piglets only suckle for a few weeks and she is quickly impregnated again. She will breed four to seven more litters before being sold for slaughter.

Rescued farm pigs often have short life spans because their genetically-altered bodies cannot handle the strain of their massive weight on such frail legs. They were never meant to live "normal" lives and must endure bodies manipulated by science and greed. Some are unable to walk more than a hundred feet without having to stop and rest. The natural lifespan of a pig is 10-15 years. Sows generally live for 3-4 years.

Courtesy of Friends of Animals