Nothing like finding out about this stuff at the last minute!
Please go here today and vote for "Pets Forever". (It's option #1) The voting ends tonight!!!
You can read about the program on their website, here, but the gist of it is that the Pets Forever program matches veterinary students at Colorado State University with elderly, low-income and disabled pet owners so that the owners are able to keep their pets with them for longer than they might otherwise be able to.
Full disclosure: I am a CSU alum, and my college roommate graduated from the vet school there. (She's the one who brought Electric Mayhem into our lives.) However, I'm one of these people who doesn't have any warm fuzzy feelings at all about her alma mater ... except this program!
Most of the people who read this blog have already gotten an e-mail from me on this, but just in case I missed someone in my haste, please vote today! Pets and their people will thank you for it!
Showing posts with label links. Show all posts
Showing posts with label links. Show all posts
December 15, 2010
October 6, 2010
Branching Out
Because I don't have enough to do with my days (ha!) I decided to start a 2nd blog. The new one is very cat-specific (because I can't ever find time to squeeze any information about the kitties into this blog) and will hopefully be of limited duration.
The Great Cat Reclamation Project is its name, and while there's only one post up there at the moment, more will be coming soon.
The Great Cat Reclamation Project is its name, and while there's only one post up there at the moment, more will be coming soon.
September 14, 2009
Portrait of a FOTZ
Just a quick post today, as I'm woefully behind in my homework. However, there's someone I've been meaning to introduce my tiny corner of the internet to:
This is Gus. Or Gustav, if we want to be formal. He is what is known in our house as a FOTZ, or "Friend of The Ziggy". Gus, alas, does not live in our house. Gus currently lives all the way over in Baltimore, and the odds are good that his Forever Home (if ever a term deserves capitalization, I think that one does) will be somewhere in that area. His whole story can be found here and if it doesn't stir some warm fuzzies in you, then you aren't a very nice person and I don't wish to know you.
Now, if you do some date comparisons between posts here and the posts about Gus, you'll realize that Gus and Ziggy were most likely never friends in real life - even allowing for the lives they lived post-rescue. But that's not really what being a FOTZ (or a "FOT-insert first initial of one of our other kitties here") is all about. FOTZ simply means that there is some kindred spirit-ness between these cats. Something about the look in Gus' eyes - in this photo, in particular - spoke to both me and The Amazing Husbandini. We know Gus isn't Ziggy, but something of what made Ziggy so very special is there is Gus also. It's comforting.
I'm not doing a very good job of explaining this concept. If nothing else, it means that Gus is special to us and we have been tracking his story on the Space Paws website with great interest. He has a meet n' greet this week with some potential adopters, and I hope everything goes well for all concerned. And if it doesn't ... well, Baltimore is only about 1,700 miles away. I've done longer road trips that had less of a payoff.
(Note: Gus' portrait was swiped from The Adventures of Space Paws, and I didn't even ask permission first. I know that's not technically kosher, so if it bothers anyone, I'll be happy to take it down and apologize.)
This is Gus. Or Gustav, if we want to be formal. He is what is known in our house as a FOTZ, or "Friend of The Ziggy". Gus, alas, does not live in our house. Gus currently lives all the way over in Baltimore, and the odds are good that his Forever Home (if ever a term deserves capitalization, I think that one does) will be somewhere in that area. His whole story can be found here and if it doesn't stir some warm fuzzies in you, then you aren't a very nice person and I don't wish to know you.
Now, if you do some date comparisons between posts here and the posts about Gus, you'll realize that Gus and Ziggy were most likely never friends in real life - even allowing for the lives they lived post-rescue. But that's not really what being a FOTZ (or a "FOT-insert first initial of one of our other kitties here") is all about. FOTZ simply means that there is some kindred spirit-ness between these cats. Something about the look in Gus' eyes - in this photo, in particular - spoke to both me and The Amazing Husbandini. We know Gus isn't Ziggy, but something of what made Ziggy so very special is there is Gus also. It's comforting.
I'm not doing a very good job of explaining this concept. If nothing else, it means that Gus is special to us and we have been tracking his story on the Space Paws website with great interest. He has a meet n' greet this week with some potential adopters, and I hope everything goes well for all concerned. And if it doesn't ... well, Baltimore is only about 1,700 miles away. I've done longer road trips that had less of a payoff.
(Note: Gus' portrait was swiped from The Adventures of Space Paws, and I didn't even ask permission first. I know that's not technically kosher, so if it bothers anyone, I'll be happy to take it down and apologize.)
June 30, 2009
Jesus Christ, People.
Warning: Rant Ahead.
At the risk of sounding like Bob Barker, how goddamn hard is it to spay or neuter your pets??? Call around and find a group willing to do it for what you can afford to pay ... they're certainly out there.
Yeah, I know...the economy sucks right now. Guess what? We're getting by on one income, and the three holy terrors we live with are STILL livin' high off the hog. And if, God forbid, the Amazing Husbandini suddenly became unemployed, the beasts would still have food, vet care and a roof over their heads. Cheap food, sure. Maybe a shelter vet instead of the fancy-schmancy "cats only" boutique vet they go to now. Probably a roof over a lot less square footage. But we took responsibility for their lives, and I'll be damned if we're going to jettison them just because things get tight.
What's that? You have children you have to take care of as well? All the more reason to take care of your pets, dumbass! I understand that you want to take the best care possible of little Ichabod and baby Fistula, but ditching Fido and Fluffy in times of need doesn't exactly teach your kids the best message.
I know, I know ... I don't have children, so I can't possibly understand. Don't hand me that shit. I grew up in a family with not much money AND a fabulous, well-maintained cat. If we managed it, so can you. (R.I.P., Chinese.)
I realize that the 2.8 people who read this blog are the choir, and I'm spending a lot of emotional energy preaching to them. But this and this just set me off tonight.
At the risk of sounding like Bob Barker, how goddamn hard is it to spay or neuter your pets??? Call around and find a group willing to do it for what you can afford to pay ... they're certainly out there.
Yeah, I know...the economy sucks right now. Guess what? We're getting by on one income, and the three holy terrors we live with are STILL livin' high off the hog. And if, God forbid, the Amazing Husbandini suddenly became unemployed, the beasts would still have food, vet care and a roof over their heads. Cheap food, sure. Maybe a shelter vet instead of the fancy-schmancy "cats only" boutique vet they go to now. Probably a roof over a lot less square footage. But we took responsibility for their lives, and I'll be damned if we're going to jettison them just because things get tight.
What's that? You have children you have to take care of as well? All the more reason to take care of your pets, dumbass! I understand that you want to take the best care possible of little Ichabod and baby Fistula, but ditching Fido and Fluffy in times of need doesn't exactly teach your kids the best message.
I know, I know ... I don't have children, so I can't possibly understand. Don't hand me that shit. I grew up in a family with not much money AND a fabulous, well-maintained cat. If we managed it, so can you. (R.I.P., Chinese.)
I realize that the 2.8 people who read this blog are the choir, and I'm spending a lot of emotional energy preaching to them. But this and this just set me off tonight.
June 6, 2009
Painting
Last night over dinner, I was trying to explain to The Amazing Husbandini how I was feeling in the area of art creation. I thought that I might repeat my explanation here, but I'm not sure how successful I'll be; I can't seem to speak coherently without excessive hand gesturing, and that doesn't translate well into a blog post.
In the 10-ish years I was a cubicle troll for various companies, I had gradually lost most of my interest in painting. When I did paint, while there was some enjoyment to be had, there was also and underlying feeling of desperation - that creativity needed to provide an escape, or else it really wasn't worth spending the time on. And not only did that escape have to be emotional, but it needed to be financial as well. If I couldn't sell some of my artwork - make that time pay for itself - there was a part of me that felt like it was all a waste. Granted, there were some self-esteem/recognition issues tied up in that as well, but having a dozen people tell me they loved something I painted was nowhere near the same as holding a big, fat check in my hand. I was trying to use the artwork as an escape route from my 8-to-5 life, and in the end, all I managed to do was turn it into a commodity.
I was cleaning off a table in the studio the other day and ran across a collection of photocopies of checks that I had saved from various art sales I'd made. While I will keep the one I received from Tadashi Hayakawa (having a well-known, respected artist shell out for one of my paintings was a thrill, regardless of any of the rest of this) the rest of them are going in the shredder. Some of the pieces I've sold - including "Sunbeam Cat", the watercolor that Mr. Hayakawa bought - are long gone - getting them ready to show and/or sell was more important than bothering to scan and save them so that I would have a record of what I had done. The level of desperation and screwed-up-ness that represents is something that I'm just now recognizing.
Not that I got into all of that part of it over nachos and iced tea last night - that's just a little background for you.
What I was trying to gesticulate to TAH last night was that now, after five months of unemployment (wow, already?), I feel like I want to paint again. I feel like I'm standing right on the edge of jumping into a huge burst of creative something - and I feel happy and interested in the whole process. Not excited, exactly, though that is a part of it. Excited was always a part of it before - any time there was a new idea or technique or what have you that felt like it was another part of that paint-myself-to-a-better-place puzzle, I was excited. Excited wasn't the problem. Happy was what was missing, unless there was money involved. The other sign for me now is the amount of information that I'm trying to take in to help me improve what I'm doing. As my mother could tell you, I have always had a short temper when it came to my artistic shortcomings. And it's a flaw of mine that I always want to get artwork perfect the first time. Spending time practicing and experimenting with better ways to do something hasn't traditionally been one of my best things. But I've been looking at some of the photos we brought back from vacation, and some of the sketches and ideas I've been holding onto, and I don't feel the rush to churn something out and get it right up on Etsy. I've been looking at them as artistic challenges that need to be considered and worked on bit by bit.
I still have my Etsy shop. I'm not rejecting the idea of exchanging some of my artwork for cash. Kibble still costs money and I'm still unemployed, after all. I've tried talking the cats into getting jobs, but they keep declining. But I'd much rather take my time and fill it with pieces I'm really proud of and that I enjoy than with stuff I'm just spitting out in an attempt to keep myself on the map.
So there it is, friends and neighbors. It's a better story when told with hand gestures, but this gets the gist of it across.
Next post: Cat Photos!
In the 10-ish years I was a cubicle troll for various companies, I had gradually lost most of my interest in painting. When I did paint, while there was some enjoyment to be had, there was also and underlying feeling of desperation - that creativity needed to provide an escape, or else it really wasn't worth spending the time on. And not only did that escape have to be emotional, but it needed to be financial as well. If I couldn't sell some of my artwork - make that time pay for itself - there was a part of me that felt like it was all a waste. Granted, there were some self-esteem/recognition issues tied up in that as well, but having a dozen people tell me they loved something I painted was nowhere near the same as holding a big, fat check in my hand. I was trying to use the artwork as an escape route from my 8-to-5 life, and in the end, all I managed to do was turn it into a commodity.
I was cleaning off a table in the studio the other day and ran across a collection of photocopies of checks that I had saved from various art sales I'd made. While I will keep the one I received from Tadashi Hayakawa (having a well-known, respected artist shell out for one of my paintings was a thrill, regardless of any of the rest of this) the rest of them are going in the shredder. Some of the pieces I've sold - including "Sunbeam Cat", the watercolor that Mr. Hayakawa bought - are long gone - getting them ready to show and/or sell was more important than bothering to scan and save them so that I would have a record of what I had done. The level of desperation and screwed-up-ness that represents is something that I'm just now recognizing.
Not that I got into all of that part of it over nachos and iced tea last night - that's just a little background for you.
What I was trying to gesticulate to TAH last night was that now, after five months of unemployment (wow, already?), I feel like I want to paint again. I feel like I'm standing right on the edge of jumping into a huge burst of creative something - and I feel happy and interested in the whole process. Not excited, exactly, though that is a part of it. Excited was always a part of it before - any time there was a new idea or technique or what have you that felt like it was another part of that paint-myself-to-a-better-place puzzle, I was excited. Excited wasn't the problem. Happy was what was missing, unless there was money involved. The other sign for me now is the amount of information that I'm trying to take in to help me improve what I'm doing. As my mother could tell you, I have always had a short temper when it came to my artistic shortcomings. And it's a flaw of mine that I always want to get artwork perfect the first time. Spending time practicing and experimenting with better ways to do something hasn't traditionally been one of my best things. But I've been looking at some of the photos we brought back from vacation, and some of the sketches and ideas I've been holding onto, and I don't feel the rush to churn something out and get it right up on Etsy. I've been looking at them as artistic challenges that need to be considered and worked on bit by bit.
I still have my Etsy shop. I'm not rejecting the idea of exchanging some of my artwork for cash. Kibble still costs money and I'm still unemployed, after all. I've tried talking the cats into getting jobs, but they keep declining. But I'd much rather take my time and fill it with pieces I'm really proud of and that I enjoy than with stuff I'm just spitting out in an attempt to keep myself on the map.
So there it is, friends and neighbors. It's a better story when told with hand gestures, but this gets the gist of it across.
Next post: Cat Photos!
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