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! 

Where did everyone go?

I knew something was going on, on Thursday night. Mum didn't come home. Dad fed me, and well, he was the only one in the bed, so I had to cuddle up next to his feet. All night, I wondered where my mum was.
Doesn't she love me anymore? But in the morning, dad fed me so everything was alright.

Now I remember -- there's some really strange things happening around here! On Thursday morning, Mum went out really early and came back with this smelly creature who barked and growled at me. Then she went out again. I'm worried - because she hasn't come home - maybe the smelly creature ate her. Oh no, my mum has been kidnapped by a dog.

Friday morning, Dad left. I'm quite used to them coming and going, and the garage door going up and down - as if they can't make up their minds what they want to do. But he hasn't come home either! And it's now SATURDAY!

This morning when I wandered up the stairs to wake them up, and discovered that they hadn't snuck back in during the night, I had half a mind to call the RSPCA! But then the nice lady came in from next door and gave me some food. Of course, with a full belly, I went back to sleep. And she came back in the afternoon and fed me again. So, I guess that's that!

Mum's been dognapped and dad's gone off where-ever he goes.

Looks like I've got the place to myself!

Hey groovers....

.......it's PARTY-TIME!!

Escape route --- photo taken in Adelaide - do I know my way around sliding doors? 

Show me a door....

There aren't many doors that I haven't mastered. Especially if mum and dad leave them ajar - well, then, they may as well give me an open invitation.

You see, I have a cupboard fetish. An obsession with those dark little spaces that hold items of...well, I have to check them out, don't I? There might be some food in there... Open biscuit packets...even mice...what's a cat going to do? Got to have a sniff around.

I love those sliding doors. They're the best. Just slip a paw in between the door and the frame. Little bit of a push and it's open. But the game's up. Mum and dad busted me today, opening the door from the house into the garage. Now they're talking about locking it. Spoil all my fun. They'll really have to worry the day I work out how to use the remote on the garage door. Because wishful thinking sure doesn't open it!

Dorkus.

Inspection time. 

Patiently waiting for breakfast!!! 

My parents need a new alarm clock!!!

I tell you what -- it took ages to get mum and dad out of bed this morning. It was like trying to raise the dead! My stomach starts rumbling at about 6am. I want food! And I can't open those silly little packets myself. Believe me, I've tried! I've mastered opening the cupboards, and getting into the Jatz bickies if dad is silly enough to leave the packet out, but those little catfood packets, they've certainly made them cat-proof!

So for the past two weeks, mum's been on holidays...so I've given her a bit of a break and let her sleep in. And I've tapped dad on the head instead...usually he gets up and feeds me and goes back to bed. And once my tummy's full, I can do the same.

This morning...well, I realised pretty quickly that mum had to go to work because her alarm went off and she hit the snooze button, looked at me, and turned over and went back to sleep. Tap, tap, tap. Well, a cat's only got so much patience, especially when his stomach's growling! Tap, tap, tap. TAP, TAP, TAP.

Okay, I'll try dad's side....WACK! Oh crap, probably shouldn't have had the claws out that time!

'DORKUS!!!'

Better run down the stairs...but at least they're out of bed now!!!

Your furry friend, Dorkus

I could always try World Federation Wrestling for my 15 minutes of fame. 

Why wasn't I in the film?

So what's going on, hey? Mum and dad tell me they made a film today with a bunch of high school kids.

What about me? It isn't fair...I've had enough now I want my share...

Now I know that I didn't want to get out of bed this morning because it was really chilly when they left....but that's no reason to leave me out of the film. I'm the only star in this family. Really! They just don't give me the opportunity to prove it...so I'm left here blogging.

But...(snigger, smirk)...mum tells me dad kept stuffing up all his lines in the film. They had to do take after take for him to get it right. Guess that will make one hell of a bloopers tape!
Moi...I'm a professional. I would've got it right on the first take. But of course, if I didn't like the script, I wouldn't do it. Unless they persuaded me with some goodies.

Oh, well, looks like I'll have to send in an audition tape to Big Brother after all.

Looks like I'm not going to be starring in Cool Bananas anytime soon....

It's a bit chilly this morning. Think I'll stay right here for now! 

How to find 15 minutes of TV fame?

The Australian Idol auditions are on at the moment. And I reckon I've got what it takes to be the next Aussie Idol. I can even put on the Guy Sebastian wig if they reckon I need an afro. (see picture below) Geez, I'd have to be better than some those wailers who get on TV! At least I'm cute! although I better start practicing my singing - I think What's New Pussycat? will be my audition piece.

Hang on! These auditions are in Sydney! I'm not getting into that dodgem car for 8 hours. And I'm certainly not going to fly! One flying experience was enough (and that's a story for another day!)

Looks like I'll just have to send in my tape to Australia's Funniest Home Videos instead. The one of dad sweeping me across the floor with the broom.

Or maybe I'll give Big Brother a call. They could do with a cat in THAT house!

Guy Sebastian - move over! 

I'm back on line!!! 

What was that all about?

What does my mother think she's playing at?

First she lets me go outside, but puts the cat cage on the ground. As if I'm going to get into that JAIL voluntarily! It usually means one thing -- a trip to the vet and a jab in the bum, or even worse, an ENEMA! Either way, I'm going to have a SORE BUM so I'm not going to fall for that one again!

Then dad tries to push me into the cage. It takes three attempts.

1. They can't even get me through the door, especially when I ruffle up my fur.
2. I do a quick spin around and run back out before dad's even had a chance to blink.
3. They get me in and close the door. DAMN!

I better eat some more Whiskas. I'm almost too fat for the door of the cage. D'you think I keep demanding lunch for no reason? Three packs of Whiskas singles a day should just about get me to the ideal cat weight. Besides, if mum and dad can have 3 meals a day, I don't see why I should STARVE!

So I'm in the cage, and they stick me in that noisy machine that mum calls her dodgem car. I hear that dogs love them but then again, dogs have no style. I protest loudly but she just tells me to shush, it'll be alright. 'We're not going to the vet.' We'll see about that.

She drives for about 5 minutes and then pulls over and lets me out of the jail, throwing my prison to the back of the car. Odd! she never lets me out of the cage until the vet is ready to see me. But I don't think we're at the vet. There's a vacant bit of land with trees and a house opposite. Although it could be a vet. Some of those brick buildings look nice and friendly from the outside, but then you get inside and a man in a white coat ambushes you. And before you know it, YOWL -- sore bum! But I can't see any signs with that three letter word *V*E*T*. I can't even seen a sign with a big bloody expletive - you know the one - VETERINARY. Maybe I'm safe after all.

She tells me to have a look for koalas, pointing to a bunch of trees. What is a koala? One of those caramello things she eats, maybe she's hoping one will fall out of the trees. She tells me that they're cute grey cuddly things, and I turn up my nose in disgust. Cute! I'm the only cute cuddly thing here. And I suddenly have a flashback to a couple of koalas on television. Cute and cuddly - pig's bum! They had claws a lot sharper and nastier than mine and they can yowl worse than any tom cat I know.

There is this sudden ringing noise and she puts this red and white thing to her ear. I'm out of here. I cower down and crawl under her seat and don't move. Oh dear, what's she doing? She's turned the noisy beast on again, and we're going somewhere else.

She stops again and turns off the car and I hold my breath. What is she up to? She's obviously decided that she won't be able to sell me on ebay and she's going to chuck me out of the car to find a new home. I'll be very very quiet, under the seat -- maybe she'll forget I'm here. She won't be able to pull me out of here in a hurry anyway. I fall asleep.

I wake up a while later and crawl out of my dark hidy hole, winding myself around her leg. I jump up on the seat and look out the window. This does look like a nice place to live but I'm not going to live here without my mum. Lots of trees and yum, birds. My stomach rumbles. I tread carefully over the handbreak into the back of the car and walk around my cage, sniffing. Doesn't look like there's any food around, and its a good thing I don't need my kitty litter yet. Because it ain't here. Mum's reading a book, but she keeps looking at the phone thingy and sighing. Might as well curl up behind her foot.

The phone rings again and I hear her say that its getting ridiculous. She's not kidding. Why are we sitting in the dodgem car? I can't work out what's going on...and then she goes back to her book and I sleep again.

I wake up and realise we're moving again and the silly phone is ringing. I stand up and look out the window and watch the world go by. She pulls up and dad hands a bottle of coke in the window and then we're off again. Are we going to live in the car now?

Finally, finally, we've been sitting in the car and it's getting dark. Even though she put my bed in the car with us, I prefer to be right behind her feet, that way I can jump out too if she makes a run for it. And then dad hops in the passenger seat of the car? Where did he come from? We drive off, and next thing, he's hopping out. I stand up and take a good look around. I'd know that driveway anyway. Yaay, we're home! But then the neighbour's car drives in and she pushes my head down so I can't be seen.

So when I finally get through the door, I head straight for the kitty litter. And mum gives me some food. Oh, there's no place like home!!!

But I still have no idea what she was up to!

Anyone have any ideas?

I'm ready to CAT-a-BLOG! 

Hang in there

Hang in there, everybody!

Dorkus says he'll be back real soon.

Still no internet access so he's spending a lot of time asleep, dreaming about his blog.

Back soon!

No internet access.

Diane here! Dorkus has sent me to the library with a message to post on his blogs. Actually, he's quite peeved that he's not allowed in the library. He thinks that 'no animals'is a dumb rule and is offended that he cannot increase his cultural and learned knowledge by sticking his nose in library books. Although, 'no dogs' is probably a good move. Face it, they're not cultured at all.

Here's the message:

WE HAVE NO INTERNET ACCESS

after the move!

Yes, I'm going psycho!

Yes, I miss my readers!

We don't even have a telephone until the telephone company gets its act together and lays the cables.

How primitive is that? A house with no internet. A cat with no blog.

Thank you for reading. And I will return to you as soon as I can. Or send Mum to the library with more messages for my readers. Meantime I'm saving up my stories!

Your furry friend, Dorkus