What do you do with a cock?

I make sounds to attract it, chase it with a blanket, run and laugh, and trap it behind something so I can hold it like a football. Then I take that gorgeous thing somewhere where it can have a harem.

You stupidass green yuppies who think chickens will cure everything. What do you do when a chick grows into a cock? Do you really think there are enough “farms” out of the city limits who will take it? Chances are grim, you idealist fool. You cannot kill and eat what you raise, urban preppy, you just will not. So what then? You take it to the only rescue place that is too full and does not place chickens anyway? You take it to the mountains and leave it to it’s doom? You drop it somewhere where there is land and you think nobody will notice the cockadoodle in the mornings, so inevitably it becomes somebody else’s problem? How very irresponsible.

It’s okay though, right, cuz you think you’re entitled to help yourselves help the world. It ain’t helping. Abandoned cocks is only one problem caused by the ignorant bliss of urban chickens and you.

I hate you. I really do.

Upon threatening to take her to the pound, somebody has claimed her.

That’s how I roll. Tomorrow she will be rescued from the rescuer. A person from work will giver her a loving home, as opposed to the terrible prison of regular eating and Chi Chi growls.

Dibs?

This was right after I caught her singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to herself.

Introducing…Kara Thrace

Couldn’t find any others in the field, or clues to how she ended up in shock and skin & bones and ready to be found by Prince Charles. All the rescue shelters and humane society are severely over-capacity, and I was crushed to learn that she’d either be shit outta luck or that I’d have to do this thing. I’m just taking it one day at a time cuz I’m pretty overwhelmed. I’m over-capacity myself, and am sad to have a burden like this, but what am I supposed to do? Don’t nobody want kitteh right now.
She’s still scared, but is doing better. I’m pretty sure she’s badass.

Somebody take her, please. Somebody take her. Please.

Sassy Auntie’s Rescue House

The last two days:

1) Squirrel. I was driving slowly out of my ally and I noticed a lethargic squirrel in the middle of the dirt road. I said, “move, lil’ guy” and then I noticed flies around him and he took exhausted painful limping steps to the base of a cottonwood tree next to the ally. I went on to work with a heavy heart and called the local wild/undomestic urban animal rescue place and went through all four volunteer numbers with no answer. I decided I would try and find him when I got home and couldn’t. Still can’t find him. I failed him.

2) Bird #1. Got trapped inside the roof. Used a hammer’s butt to pry open a spot in the paneling and watched it fly out a few minutes later. They nest in a part of the roof, and rarely venture but sometimes that one and I have to agree to take money out of my deposit. Starlings are terrible.

3) Bird #2. Trapped inside the other side of the roof at 4am this morning. Next to my bedroom. All his fellow birds tried to rescue him at 5am this morning. My cats tried to eat the birds from inside the bedroom window. I pryed open another spot before leaving work, and thought he would escape. Came home from work and his chirps were subdued. It was 100 degrees. Mountain climbed the house, pryed the paneling all the way off and shoved my head up in there with the spiders to find an older baby bird. Wouldn’t let me get him. Put soggy cat food and water in there. Watched a fellow bird tentatively go in there. Probably just eating his stuff but maybe showing him how? I don’t know what will happen there. I’ll check tomorrow.

4) Kitten. Walking Charlie in the park next to a vacant field and Charlie kindly found him. Kitten was exhausted and scared and not wanting to move anymore. He was shaking and could barely keep his eyes open. I sat back waited and watched and hoped for a mama or others but knew he had gotten to the point where he just stopped. For a long time. He hissed and spit with all his remaining energy when I neared him, so he’s probably feral. I almost wrap him in my own socks to carry him home but a friend comes and helps with a towel and a car ride. He is in a cat carrier in my bathroom. He ate. He sleeps. He’s skin & bones and still hisses when I near. I feel real sorry for him. About 7 weeks old and absolutely cute. I’ll call the “no-kill” cat place tomorrow. I know they just swap out placeable cats with the pound but would never admit it, so I will ask what they do with feral kittens and see how well they lie. I’ll also go back in the evening to see if I can find any others.

5) Gus’s Brother (GeeBee) still has balls. He is very sweet. He has a watch on now and comes at the correct times for feeding. Considerate. Pathetic. Balls. I must fight him and take him for ball removal and shots. I need an assistant.

6) Raccoon. Comes every night to scavenge for food. Gus leaves him be. Good thing, because she’s fraking frightening. She looks right at you. And she’s very big. One time I walked out to see her sitting next to GeeBee. Like having a meeting with him or something. And I was all, Blink Blink. And they were all, What.

Look at Our Fat Asses!

Also, who’s coming to have a beer with me at the Longhorn in Crouch? I am so sick of your mother.

Hanky Code

So I wake up bleary-eyed at the asscrack of 9:30am on the Sabbath, and I realize I haven’t fed the Nub Bros (tailless Poodle & Gustav) breakfast. I whip around to verify I hadn’t let boy out in a sleepy stupor, and stumble upon him and a hanky. And I’m all, What the poop? Because he would have had to take the kerchief off my drum and carry it all the way over to his bed eleventy-feet away. And then curl up around it.

So I go with it and bend down and lovingly fasten the handkerchief ‘round his handsome neck and I tell you what. He almost melted with delight that I put the hanky on him. He was the happiest gentleman on the Earth. All day he was so proud. It was the cutest thing I ever saw.

I’ve got to get him a bow-tie.

I Rode Him So Hard

(Lifted from an email to Jebus. Don’t you feel cheap now. I mean please don’t feel cheap now.)

Dude. Today I went out to my sister’s place to ride horses and I felt like they were testing me to be some kind of stunt woman in a (cussword) movie because they put me on Cash instead of Tango, and Cash was thisclose, thisfuckingclose to bucking me off for an hour. I worked the entire time to compromise with him to keep me on there and let me tell you. All the sweet talking! Somebody bring me a whiskey please. SOMEBODY BRING ME A WHISKEY. PLEASE.
And they were all, Yeah, Cash bucked Niece off last month. And he bucked Nephew off when they were by the aggro horses across the street a while back. The same ones that made Cash nearly take off at a dead run had I not reined him in hard 5 steps into it. Like, no big deal. Whatever.
I totally want to go back and ride him again. Thathugefuckingbastard.
Charlie did so good, only he got zapped by the electric fence but relished in the attention afterward(s). He came running straight into my arms and was lavished with pity for 10 minutes by three adults. He is absolutely exhausted. Um turn off the electric fence and wake up about your horses being intermediate/advanced ridable. Family!
Idaho!

The Zombies are Coming. Step 2 Done.

The beginnings of my madness can be seen here and here. Essentially, I want to be prepared for the worst and be able to take care of myself and Fur Posse should anything go down. I know that sounds a little out there, but here is reasoning from my own life:

• I felt the economic downturn last year by living off of grilled cheese sandwiches and PBR. It was a tough year and there were several occasions I had $6 to my name. Because of this, I think of preparing by backing up my food supply and cash on hand. Anybody could loose their job. I don’t spend money on stuff like I might have before last year.
• Living at the cabin (I know, that right there is a privileged statement so what’s my problem) I almost had to evacuate in the middle of the night because of a fire, and then would have had to take the long way to Boise for a week if I had needed supplies. This makes me think about always having enough gas in the car to make it at least 75 miles and having enough supplies on hand. Member when the current war started and people were lined up for miles at gas stations? When shit goes down, people line up at gas stations, I’ll tell you what.
• Also at the cabin, during the worst winter in many years, I got snowed in twice – one of which I ran out of cat food and Ms. Fugi and my driving skills saved the day. My mechanic said because of the year of the Legacy, I didn’t do damage. The newer ones would have had entire pieces missing. I was real proud.

Big deal, but add these together with the rest of the world’s state, and I have my own recipe for fanatics. Last fall, the election could have turned this world into something else, although, I’m dubious about the way things are going now. Natural disasters even in our own country are not dealt with in a way that sits well. Hi, Katrina. There will be more “natural disasters” than ever before. There are events in all of our immediate locations that are very real – In Seattle one winter, the power was out for 6 days during the coldest weather in years. If the ex and I hadn’t been on the outs and had an apartment with a fireplace, we would have been hosed. Our infrastructure throughout the U.S. is failing; the dams above Boise are 80 years old and need updating. What if they broke? What if the power went out here in the frozen-for-weeks-at-a-time winter? I know, what ifs, but very plausible what ifs that I believe we should have in the back of our minds and prepare for.

I have procured a small “survival kit” with the standard trinkets and a really good first aid kit for the Fur Posse and I. Also, I have a short-wave radio, and standard camping gear. I have yet to spend money on a good water purification handy filter thingy. I have placed things like this in sexy bags in a central location along with cat carriers. Well. Of course along with cat carriers, shut up. Did y’all see what happened to people’s pets in Katrina? I have also taken back-up supplies to the cabin. This somehow unsettled my cute mom who was there when I arrived with a week’s worth of Fur Posse food and human food and re-filled the water storage. She was all, “I didn’t know it got that bad for you to feel you have to do this.” And I was all, “Now I just need a good axe for the Zombies.”

And she was all, “Great. Now your a zealot and a Lesbian.”

Well, one in the same, really. At least my tits are still hot. Barely. Which will not help my survival rate according to horror movies.

Dilemma of a Fat Back Butt Crack

Dear Tracker: I know they’re not exact cat or dog prints. The intention was to incorporate both so shut yo mouth. (Love y’all).

See, the problem is that I feel like the tatt ain’t finished. I want something more to it. Like the four elements from the movie Fifth Element – squiggly lines representing Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water around it or something. Representation of caring about this Earth and its creatures. Or an arrow pointing down with the words “Free Mustache Rides”. Somebody please design my trampstamp kthanksbye.

Long Pics. Rad Weekend.

Morning coffee view with dead dog on the deck:

Toy mouse from my own rigged ‘fishing-for-kitties’ fishing pole. Mama cast too hard with the fan on and it’s still stuck in the fan motor 30-feet up. Brilliant. (Chi Chi Rodriguez Sanchez Munoz Gonzalez Ramirez always helpful):

Horrible Kittens. Just Terrible.

So I thought I’d leave you with a picture of hamsters instead. Hamster – I don’t even know her. Have a terrific weekend. May your day be paid off and made into three. I’ll be on the deck, on the deck.