“All good things arrive unto them that wait–and don’t die in the meantime.” ~ Mark Twain
Good morning. It’s a tad warmer this morning. And clearer. Each morning I look at the stars, regardless of the weather, and this morning my first look was a pleasure. There’s been a lot on my mind lately, and I’ve been tired, which is no news to anyone but me. Of course, I am still inspired and comforted by the presence of cats throughout my workday. Cats have patience in their DNA. How do I know that? Just look. You try to just hang in a cage all day long, every day, and see what happens to you, feeling-wise. I wouldn’t recommend comparing it to a human in prison. Said incarcerated humans have a whole lot more to deal with than bars and locked doors. Meanwhile I love them kitties and I give them the best care I can. I hesitate to tell you that I give them a hard time at times, and I give them sweetness, but the hard time is sweetness in that it is all in banter such as, “Don’t even try to get out of there”. There’s a spiritual and philosophical lesson in there somewhere. You run with it because I am like all tired and stuff.
Something has been bugging me lately. I keep letting the scandal that rocked the Stray Hearts animal shelter, here in Taos, New Mexico, seemingly many weeks ago, get me riled. My latest point of contention, which remains uncontested because I have not shared it with anyone except them kitties, is that the shotgun (that’s a metaphor, my friends) attack against our former full-time on grounds staff veterinarian seems to have contained no empirical evidence at all. I mean, WTF. Not at all. Hints and allegations. But the metaphorically adamant rhetorical shotgun wielders won the day, and their victory was subsequently broadcast on local TV stations, and none of them infernal stations even bothered to check in with the victim of the rhetorical attack. The battered vet was ignored except as a target. These stations said that he had been hurting animals. As reported recently here at/in my blog, I took the time to read the report from the State’s Veterinary Review Board, and I was looking for their documentations of cases of abuse where I was either intimately involved in the case or those where I witnessed the care of the animal in question. None of the statements by the board, concerning animals I know and worked with, or looked at day after day – none of the documented cases were reported with facts in tow, and I was all WTF at that oversight. It was as if it was an oversight committee that used the wrong usage of the word oversight. Now, the vet has been used and discarded. The animals in question, in the cases I reviewed for my own edification, are thriving now, and one particular cat named Lion has become the three legged light of someone’s life. The detractors of the doctor said that Lion’s bad leg remained without bandage for a very long time, for weeks, for almost two months. I cared for that animal and I didn’t see what they said I should’ve seen, so now I have to live with the “fact” that my perception was in fact hallucination, so I now have to be careful that I no longer let said hallucinations get in the way of rhetorical and darkly splendorous allegations. I’ll likely not step aside. How could I? A man whom I respect and honor was blasted, and now the shelter has a long road in recovering from our loss of a man who maintained a level of care and love for the animals that far exceeded the meager resources that we had to work with. In other words: we rocked. We still do, with low low wages. The difference is that we lost our ship’s doctor. All I can say about that is, “Damn it, Jim, I’m a caregiver, not a friggin observer!”. Huh?! Calm down. It’s a Star Trek allusion. I’ll take an allusion over an illusion any day.
In closing I must say that I enjoyed my morning coffee so much that I will have another, out of your sight, so you will have to take my word for it. I am still angry over the gross injustice I have just commented on. Poor me.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.