You probably saw it. How do you feel about it? Can you even stand to look at the video, knowing she was five lengths, four lengths, two lengths from death? A beautiful young race mare running her heart out for her owners, coming in second against a magnificently strong male contender and dying for it. It happened to Ruffian, but that wasn't enough. It happened to Barbaro, although he was a male, he died for the "sport". It happens at race tracks all over the country, young horses pushed past their limit, too young for their bodies to carry the burden of speed, and snapping bones, bursting arteries, and becoming young cripples or slaughter house prospects. Yeah, the slaughter house. Do some research and find out how many top race horses, Kentucky Derby Winners, wound up falling through the cracks and landing in slaughter houses.
Maybe I should call this post "Why I don't Watch The Kentucky Derby". Horse lovers have known since horse racing became big business, that it's cruel to saddle "break" and start training a yearling horse for the races. That it's only done so that the multimillionaire investors can get quick returns on their money. They pay huge amounts for these race horses, and insure them to the max, then send them off to the trainers to push them into performing way too young. I won't go into a rant, you've heard it all before. These horses can be allowed to mature and then raced, it just takes about two more years. So take this away with you, if you are a big race horse fan, or you've partied and watched the Derby, Eight Belles died for you, too.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Good-bye Jean-Luc
Nah, don't get all teary eyed. I did it for love.
I gave away my beloved one year old Boston terrier (with maybe a pit bull grandmother?).
To the best home in the world.
This is what happened. I had rescued him from a back yard breeder. Jean-Luc was in desperate straits. He was malnourished, wormy, full of giardia, crypto-something or other, had a broken tail, a fractured cheek bone, and a few other problems, since the "breeder's" nineteen year old tatooed, purple mohawked son was using him as a live football. We fed him, paid for several restorative operations, neutered him, loved him, vitaminized him, and eventually brought him to full and totally vibrant good health. The problem was that he grew to fifty pounds (pit bull genes always out themselves) and was extremely - er- exuberant. The other problem was that we have two tiny full grown shih tzus that weighed about three pounds each, and were getting unceremoniously flipped through the air on a daily basis. Or squashed when he playfully pounced on them. There was much whimpering, limping, and soulful looks from the little ones. It wasn't that Jean-luc wasn't gentle, they could take food right out of his mouth, it was that he wanted to play with them so badly,which meant picking them up by their heads and carrying them around like they were one of his stuffed toys, or body slamming them against a wall as he ran in from the back yard. I was terrified that one day i would hear a fateful crunch and that would be the end of one of my little fluff balls.
So, my dearest friend Kay, offered to take him. She lives on a huge horse/cow farm and has three delightful kids, and two other dogs who are big, and lots of room for him to run his brains out. And as a bonus, is a dog groomer by profession, so is used to handling anything. He is quite happy there. Her kids adore him, and he sleeps on their beds, he eats calf poop and barfs it up in my friend's kitchen, he sits on her kitchen table and watches the world go by, and in general, is having a great life. Which makes me happy. Except that i miss him like crazy.
I guess sometimes we're just meant to be the intermediary, not the final destination.
Did i say i still miss him?
And if i should ever run across a petite Boston terrier, who looks like him.....well.....
I gave away my beloved one year old Boston terrier (with maybe a pit bull grandmother?).
To the best home in the world.
This is what happened. I had rescued him from a back yard breeder. Jean-Luc was in desperate straits. He was malnourished, wormy, full of giardia, crypto-something or other, had a broken tail, a fractured cheek bone, and a few other problems, since the "breeder's" nineteen year old tatooed, purple mohawked son was using him as a live football. We fed him, paid for several restorative operations, neutered him, loved him, vitaminized him, and eventually brought him to full and totally vibrant good health. The problem was that he grew to fifty pounds (pit bull genes always out themselves) and was extremely - er- exuberant. The other problem was that we have two tiny full grown shih tzus that weighed about three pounds each, and were getting unceremoniously flipped through the air on a daily basis. Or squashed when he playfully pounced on them. There was much whimpering, limping, and soulful looks from the little ones. It wasn't that Jean-luc wasn't gentle, they could take food right out of his mouth, it was that he wanted to play with them so badly,which meant picking them up by their heads and carrying them around like they were one of his stuffed toys, or body slamming them against a wall as he ran in from the back yard. I was terrified that one day i would hear a fateful crunch and that would be the end of one of my little fluff balls.
So, my dearest friend Kay, offered to take him. She lives on a huge horse/cow farm and has three delightful kids, and two other dogs who are big, and lots of room for him to run his brains out. And as a bonus, is a dog groomer by profession, so is used to handling anything. He is quite happy there. Her kids adore him, and he sleeps on their beds, he eats calf poop and barfs it up in my friend's kitchen, he sits on her kitchen table and watches the world go by, and in general, is having a great life. Which makes me happy. Except that i miss him like crazy.
I guess sometimes we're just meant to be the intermediary, not the final destination.
Did i say i still miss him?
And if i should ever run across a petite Boston terrier, who looks like him.....well.....
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do
I didn't want this blog to get political, as I'm a pretty tolerant person and advocate freedom of speech, thought, expression and chocolate, but sometimes we have to put down our candybars and take a stand.
Here's mine.
Boycott the Beijing Olympics.
It is a miserabe truth that the Chinese government is brutal and indifferent to the severe animal abuse that goes on within its borders. Animals suffer indescribably horrible deaths for the sheer entertainment of it (can you believe) and for the twisted tastes of their food industry. I don't want to go into detail here, because you won't sleep at night, but if you are interested, you can follow this link http://www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/395884823 and add your name to a petition that is trying to address these issues.
It's so important.
If you love animals, do it for them. Take humanity one baby step forward.
Thanks.
Judy
Here's mine.
Boycott the Beijing Olympics.
It is a miserabe truth that the Chinese government is brutal and indifferent to the severe animal abuse that goes on within its borders. Animals suffer indescribably horrible deaths for the sheer entertainment of it (can you believe) and for the twisted tastes of their food industry. I don't want to go into detail here, because you won't sleep at night, but if you are interested, you can follow this link http://www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/395884823 and add your name to a petition that is trying to address these issues.
It's so important.
If you love animals, do it for them. Take humanity one baby step forward.
Thanks.
Judy
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