PETA

Now, I've never really thought much of a dogs! Smelly critters with little self control, and no respect for their own bodies. Seriously, they'll roll in anything and they're literally anybody's. Pay them a kind word and a bit of attention, and it's tail wagging and jumping around - unless they're one of those nasty pieces - that just want to bite everything in their path.

I've always thought that CATS are the superior beast - after all, we have sophistication and decorum.

So much as I have little time for dogs, I have even less time for humans that don't know the meaning of humane!

Check out the following:


The following story is from This is True dated 17 July 2005. It is
Copyright 2005 Randy Cassingham, all rights reserved, and reprinted here
with
permission:

"Ethical" Defined

After more than 100 dead dogs were dumped in a trash dumpster over
four weeks, police in Ahoskie, N.C., kept an eye on the trash receptacle
behind a supermarket. Sure enough, a van drove up and officers watched
the occupants throw in heavy plastic bags. They detained the two people
in the van and found 18 dead dogs in plastic bags in the dumpster,
including puppies; 13 more dead dogs were still in the van. Police say
the van is registered to the headquarters of People for the Ethical
Treatment of Animals, and the two occupants, Andrew B. Cook, 24, and
Adria Joy Hinkle, 27, identified themselves as PETA employees. An autopsy
performed on one of the dogs found it was healthy before it was killed.
Police say PETA has been picking up the animals -- alive -- from North
Carolina animal shelters, promising to find them good homes. Cook and
Hinkle have been charged with 62 felony counts of animal cruelty. In
response to the arrests PETA President Ingrid Newkirk said it's against
the group's policy for employees to dump animals in the trash, but "that
for some animals in North Carolina, there is no kinder option than
euthanasia." (Roanoke-Chowan News-Herald) ...Oops, my mistake: that's
"Playing God" Defined.

In his author's notes section, Cassingham had more to say about this
story:

The more I learn about PETA, the less I think of
them. The story of them killing animals isn't even unusual. According to
PETA's own filings, in 2004 PETA killed 86.3 percent of the
animals entrusted to its care -- a number that's rising, not falling.
Meanwhile, the SPCA in PETA's home town (Norfolk, Va.) was able to find
loving homes for 73 percent of the animals put in its care. A shortage of
funds? Nope: last year PETA took in $29 million in tax-exempt donations.
It simply has other priorities for the funds, like funding terrorism
(yes, really). But don't take my word for it: I got my figures from
http://www.PETAkillsAnimals.com
-- and they have copies of PETA's state and federal filings to back it
up. The bottom line: if you donate money to PETA because you think they
care for and about animals, you need to think some more. PETA literally
yells and screams about how others "kill animals" but this is how
they operate? Pathetic.

And you know what I wonder? PETA's official count of animals
they kill is 86.3 percent. But if they're going around picking up
animals, killing them while they drive around and not even giving them a
chance to be adopted, and then destroying the evidence by dumping
the bodies in the trash, are those deaths being reported? My
guess: no. While 86.3 percent is awful, the actual number is probably
much, much higher. How dare they lecture anyone
about the "ethical" treatment of animals!

(This is True is a weekly column featuring
weird-but-true news
stories from around the world, and has been published since 1994. Click
the link for info about free subscriptions.)

Catching up with the news

Mum doesn't believe that I can read the newspaper. She just thinks I'm trying to look intellectual. As if, I even have to try. In the words of a famous bear....I'm smarter than your average cat...

If I can write a blog, of course, I can read the news.

Mum gets upset when I come and sit on the top of the newspaper as she's reading. I'm just trying to read Column 8 http://www.smh.com.au/column8/index.html

Other times, she comes home and the newspaper is shredded all over the floor. My whiskers, does she get grumpy! And dad's worse - he half chucks a wobbly. They should try turning the page with furry mittens and claws. It's not as easy as it looks and I'm afraid, I end up with little bits of paper all over the floor. I'm just trying to stay on top of current affairs.






Then again, I can't really give the same excuse for the bits I've gnawed off the boxes. There's no news on the boxes. Maybe I can say I'm teething????

Sleeping Arrangements

I've been having a dispute with dad about sleeping arrangements ever since he arrived on the scene. You see, it hasn't always been the three of us. At one time -- a very long time ago - actually I'm a bit hesitant to say exactly when because I don't want to reveal my age. A cat has to maintain some mystique. Suffice to say, I look darn good for my age, and that's without Plastic Surgery. These whiskers are all my own! No feline implants for this cat.

- Now where was I? Oh yes -- sleeping arrangements. I used to have mum all to myself. I didn't have a dad then. Well, I did sort of -- Mum's flatmate, Michael - he was the one who found me, and he would feed me and stuff, but it was mum I would snuggle up to every night. Then Michael moved out and HE moved in.

Everything was okay at first. I got used to having this new person around the house, and he'd pat me and fed me, so he was kind of cool, and he stayed in his own room a lot and went out a lot at night. So it was usually just me and mum and that's the way I liked it.

But then everything changed. And I mean really changed. Suddenly he started sleeping in mum's bedroom and I was banished! What was going on??? And then mum said I had a new daddy. Well, I didn't like this very much and I started to ambush him every time he came down the stairs.

Years later (as I've already said, I'm not revealing how many) -- we've grown accustomed to each other. I've realised he's here to stay, and I think he realises that I might try to run away but I'll always be back before dinner time. In fact, he's a bit of a pushover really - I can usually get an extra feed out of him at lunchtime, and he's easier to prod out of bed than mum.
And the sleeping arrangements are well and truly sorted. I've got a day bed under the desk downstairs, and at night, I curl up on the end of the bed. Everything's right with the world -- we all know which side of the bed to sleep on.


Dorkus

I know there's food on that plate!