Mike’s Mission Video « mikeroweWORKS
I love this guy...
Clearing the air
1 year ago
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Obviously, I'm Not Stressed
My feet haven't been touched in almost four months, I used to have a heel, and a lovely shaped foot. I'm rocking back on my heels, to keep weight off of my toes. My legs are starting to ache. But hey, that's not stressful. Living in my own waste 23.9875/24 is also taking it's toll on my skin, but snort, that's not stressful.
The flies have a choice of places they can torment me, but I've learned that my guard's rare perimeter dusting of insecticide means pressing myself against a concrete wall to get any relief. My face is losing it's hair, as I rub against my round bale. I'm a thin-coated breed, after all. But, nope, I am not stressed. My stomach is puffed full of junk, like the chip-board panel that is part of my airless pen. I've eaten the top four inches of one corner. I was hungry. I've ground shallow splinters into the underside of my neck, as I strain, pressing against the top of my pen, to reach the most palatable bits in my round bale.
My guard continues to nail the frangible side of my pen together, even as I try to press it down, straining to reach some food. There are several bales of old straw, just outside the door of my pen. I cannot eat them. I try. They are never placed in my pen. Sometimes my guard places grass clippings from the farmer's cutting of the lawn, on the straw. Then Guard leaves my water dirty, for days, and often low, and sometimes forgotten altogether. Guard feeds me mashed pellets now. Once a day, a cup or so. I'm always hungry. I'm always alone.
But I'm not stressed. Heck, no.
Obvious stress, to me, is impending death. I will not exhibit that for a very long time. I'm not dying right now. I'm just neglected. Ignored. Forgotten. Treated like a puppy, now not that interesting, at all. My guard was very friendly to me, when I met her at my old place, in my old field, with my old friends. Guard is not my friend, I know that now. I'm not stressed. I'm not dead.
This NON-fictional nightmare brought to you by caging the truth.
Please, people. Start questioning animal confinement laws. The plain truth about animals? They show stress when they are about to die, not before. They neglect very quietly, don't they. Not like people. Can you imagine people being quiet about their own neglect?
Animals are stoic, for one reason, it is their survival instinct. Never let 'em see ya sweat.
I'm going to start caring more about people, if I can, because they are ultimately the ones who can "make the change". I don't know how, except to recommend all of us in agreement extend letters to my government, and the OSPCA. OSPCA says they are fighting for better Animal Confinement Laws. I would like to see proof, soon.
The flies have a choice of places they can torment me, but I've learned that my guard's rare perimeter dusting of insecticide means pressing myself against a concrete wall to get any relief. My face is losing it's hair, as I rub against my round bale. I'm a thin-coated breed, after all. But, nope, I am not stressed. My stomach is puffed full of junk, like the chip-board panel that is part of my airless pen. I've eaten the top four inches of one corner. I was hungry. I've ground shallow splinters into the underside of my neck, as I strain, pressing against the top of my pen, to reach the most palatable bits in my round bale.
My guard continues to nail the frangible side of my pen together, even as I try to press it down, straining to reach some food. There are several bales of old straw, just outside the door of my pen. I cannot eat them. I try. They are never placed in my pen. Sometimes my guard places grass clippings from the farmer's cutting of the lawn, on the straw. Then Guard leaves my water dirty, for days, and often low, and sometimes forgotten altogether. Guard feeds me mashed pellets now. Once a day, a cup or so. I'm always hungry. I'm always alone.
But I'm not stressed. Heck, no.
Obvious stress, to me, is impending death. I will not exhibit that for a very long time. I'm not dying right now. I'm just neglected. Ignored. Forgotten. Treated like a puppy, now not that interesting, at all. My guard was very friendly to me, when I met her at my old place, in my old field, with my old friends. Guard is not my friend, I know that now. I'm not stressed. I'm not dead.
This NON-fictional nightmare brought to you by caging the truth.
Please, people. Start questioning animal confinement laws. The plain truth about animals? They show stress when they are about to die, not before. They neglect very quietly, don't they. Not like people. Can you imagine people being quiet about their own neglect?
Animals are stoic, for one reason, it is their survival instinct. Never let 'em see ya sweat.
I'm going to start caring more about people, if I can, because they are ultimately the ones who can "make the change". I don't know how, except to recommend all of us in agreement extend letters to my government, and the OSPCA. OSPCA says they are fighting for better Animal Confinement Laws. I would like to see proof, soon.
Friday, July 23, 2010
NotThatBad
Here's some artwork that came to me, in a nightmare.
Or, the reverse of rescue.
You know, if an animal is used to certain conditions, the animal can become completely unhinged by any change in those conditions, even if they are better for the animal.
Take a puppy mill dog. An animal that has never felt grass, or the sun, or fresh air, all of it's life. An animal that has never been socialized to people. An animal kept locked in a basement.
Take that animal out into the light and love of day, and BaM. Psychological meltdown occurs, until the animal finally gets over/forgets his initial life. I remember a Cesar Milan episode, where a woman had rescued a hound from a research lab. The animal was petrified by everything, and it took a very, very long time for the animal to let that past go.
Cesar says animals live in the moment, and I believe that to be true. If you turn their "normal" worlds upside down, it will take great training/compassion/patience/empathy, to bring that animal around. They have many moments they must forget, too.
My fictional horse has had his world turned upside down, in a reverse of rescue. From a long life of good food, good care, grooming/handling, riding, turn-out, cleanliness, other horses companionship, black-smithing, etc., he has become a neglected, filthy, skinny, utterly lonely horse. He patiently takes it, like the perfect gentleman that he is.
His BCS score right now? Probably a three, maybe three and a half. He's gained some weight back, as I said. I'd call his condition as of July 8 at about a 2.5.
But I am overly emotional, as we all know. Prone to fiction, not fact. Maybe those ribs are supposed to be there. Maybe it's just a "different" look now, for this horse. Maybe he's okay.
Truly amazing what food will do. And what it won't do, when you don't feed it.
Losing muscle tone is to be expected, of course, when the animal gets no exercise.
Evil thoughts about rescue..
OH, and here's an evil thought I had. I think we should abolish all animal shelters, and euth all of the animals still awaiting homes.
Then, any further animals not wanted anymore, will have truly no place to go.
Do you think that would stop the downpour?
It could stop the people who think "Oh, I'll just take old Fluffy to the shelter, now that I'm tired of her". These people would have to actually take responsibility for their actions with their own animals. Daughter is suddenly allergic? Your problem, not mine.
It would force people like me to keep a stray, or to take care of it's future, myself. I've taken two cats to the shelter, and cried my eyes out both times. If there wasn't a shelter, I'd have had to have kept them, or euthed them, myself.
Just some food for thought, of course, I'm not entirely serious. Private rescues, fine. But no more publicly funded services. Obviously, they are doing such a crappy job, they cannot be trusted. Let's do away with them entirely!
Want to get rid of your dog? Tell your kid the truth about what happens! Dog was killed, because we didn't want him anymore!
This evil thought occurred to me, as I read an OSPCA disliker's comment on facebook. He said "The OSPCA should be caring for our animals properly".
OUR animals?? Last I looked, my animals were living the perfect doggie life.
The OSPCA's animals are not "ours". They are very often owned by people who couldn't care less what happens to them next.
No, not always. But I worked at a shelter. That was the case, most of the time.
Or, the reverse of rescue.
You know, if an animal is used to certain conditions, the animal can become completely unhinged by any change in those conditions, even if they are better for the animal.
Take a puppy mill dog. An animal that has never felt grass, or the sun, or fresh air, all of it's life. An animal that has never been socialized to people. An animal kept locked in a basement.
Take that animal out into the light and love of day, and BaM. Psychological meltdown occurs, until the animal finally gets over/forgets his initial life. I remember a Cesar Milan episode, where a woman had rescued a hound from a research lab. The animal was petrified by everything, and it took a very, very long time for the animal to let that past go.
Cesar says animals live in the moment, and I believe that to be true. If you turn their "normal" worlds upside down, it will take great training/compassion/patience/empathy, to bring that animal around. They have many moments they must forget, too.
My fictional horse has had his world turned upside down, in a reverse of rescue. From a long life of good food, good care, grooming/handling, riding, turn-out, cleanliness, other horses companionship, black-smithing, etc., he has become a neglected, filthy, skinny, utterly lonely horse. He patiently takes it, like the perfect gentleman that he is.
His BCS score right now? Probably a three, maybe three and a half. He's gained some weight back, as I said. I'd call his condition as of July 8 at about a 2.5.
But I am overly emotional, as we all know. Prone to fiction, not fact. Maybe those ribs are supposed to be there. Maybe it's just a "different" look now, for this horse. Maybe he's okay.
Truly amazing what food will do. And what it won't do, when you don't feed it.
Losing muscle tone is to be expected, of course, when the animal gets no exercise.
Evil thoughts about rescue..
OH, and here's an evil thought I had. I think we should abolish all animal shelters, and euth all of the animals still awaiting homes.
Then, any further animals not wanted anymore, will have truly no place to go.
Do you think that would stop the downpour?
It could stop the people who think "Oh, I'll just take old Fluffy to the shelter, now that I'm tired of her". These people would have to actually take responsibility for their actions with their own animals. Daughter is suddenly allergic? Your problem, not mine.
It would force people like me to keep a stray, or to take care of it's future, myself. I've taken two cats to the shelter, and cried my eyes out both times. If there wasn't a shelter, I'd have had to have kept them, or euthed them, myself.
Just some food for thought, of course, I'm not entirely serious. Private rescues, fine. But no more publicly funded services. Obviously, they are doing such a crappy job, they cannot be trusted. Let's do away with them entirely!
Want to get rid of your dog? Tell your kid the truth about what happens! Dog was killed, because we didn't want him anymore!
This evil thought occurred to me, as I read an OSPCA disliker's comment on facebook. He said "The OSPCA should be caring for our animals properly".
OUR animals?? Last I looked, my animals were living the perfect doggie life.
The OSPCA's animals are not "ours". They are very often owned by people who couldn't care less what happens to them next.
No, not always. But I worked at a shelter. That was the case, most of the time.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Superstition
I don't think I've ever told you the story of my lone foray into owning an Appaloosa. I've alluded to her, but I don't think I've ever bloggled her. I didn't own her for very long.
I called her Superstition, because she was absolutely horrified, by absolutely everything. Snorty thing, 4-5 year old 16.2, strawberry-roaned leopard Appaloosa, heart stopping to look at, perfectly tall for my leg, and stocky to boot. She was truly beautiful, everything put together JustRight, which is why I traded my first mare (the liver chestnut) for her, from the "WorstOfAllTime" Barn Guy.
We'll call him Woat. And I'll try not to mention him again. (spits.)
Superstition had the explosive power that was lacking in my first mare. Yes, I traded my first mare away, with barely a second thought. I was seventeen. Chestnut was just tooo short for my aspirations and I felt I needed a taller, more powerful jumper. Superstition had a LOT of propulsion in her, but I soon discovered that her idea of a good time would never include me. Ever. Mare had had a pretty rough start in life, that much was obvious. Rank-Broke. Every time I rode her was an adventure in staying on. I felt pretty cocky about her, being the only person on the property that could 1) get near her, and 2) saddle her up and 3) ride her.
I tried everything I knew with her, but as I had really no clue what I was doing, we didn't get very far. I was completely on my own at this point, at Woat's barn. (blech).
Superstition could buck/spin/crow-hop and shoot sideways at Mach 7. The day she finally threw me, I was kind of glad. I'd had enough, and traded her away for a horse that would become yet another one for the vet's "Exclamations!!" books.
It was pretty funny how she threw me, I think I've told you this part before. I (cough) smoked back then, and had a pack of matches in the back pocket of a tight pair of jeans, as I rode the mare in a field, where she'd never been before. We were already going for a new adventure in "Will I be able to stop her?", when the back pocket of my jeans ignited. My one quick, agonized movement away from her back was the perfect opportunity for Superstition to offer a new variety of "remove the human, NOW". I'm sure my yelp of pain didn't help either.
Ouch...
I wasn't ready for this mare. It was a real shame too, because if I'd only been able to reach her, she'd have made one heck of a jumper.
I wish I'd known this mare later in my riding life. It would have been fun to sit in the middle of a super-nova, and actually known what I was doing.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Interesting Reading
Interesting reading. Discussions on the frontlines of Ontario animal welfare 2008
Don't worry, you sure don't have to read the whole darned thing. Ian Cumming had some interesting things to say, as did Connie Mallory. Opposites sides of the same darn system. I was "semi-aware" of this, as usual, I took the middle road between the two parties. I still don't quite believe that Hugh Coghill said what he said, because he may very well have been talking about Mr. Funny Farmer from my last post, too. BTW, since no-one showed any interest as to what the funny famer's pigs did? Half-fed cows, hungry feral pigs. ByeBye, cow's rectums. There was a HUGE public uproar, Mr. FF can never own pigs again. He can still own cattle, though.
And now, everyone just ignores Mr. FF's place. Everyone, including the OSPCA. (Okay, his neighbours cannot ignore his place. His place destroys their property values. Oh, well.)
Hey, Hugh Coghill retired. Why am I always the last to know this shite?
I guess I should have been spending all of my time researching the Bill C50 issue, who really needs a job? I've learned everything I know about the Humane Laws in this province, by simply living where I do.
Food water shelter. Doesn't have to be enough food, the water can be filled with feces, the shelter can leak. C'est tout. Skinny, neglected animals are not illegal.
I'll say this again, as patiently as I can, without screaming.
The Animal Welfare movement is backfiring. Anyone else smell the H2SO4? Considering my previous post, and all, I truly wonder. Puppy Mills are entirely legal. Think about it.
On to more obvious reporting.. I found this on RefDesk, link to your right. My left;)
"Too many hours playing video games and watching TV may be impairing youngsters' ability to focus in school. A recent study found that students who exceed the recommended two hours a day of screen time are almost twice as likely to have attention problems. Despite the fact that playing video games is perceived as a less passive activity than simply watching TV, both appear to have roughly the same link to attention problems. Researchers say that it is likely that TV and video games increase attention problems, however, they also note these media, in all likelihood, attract children that already have attention problems."
Oh, please, the last sentence is such a total cop-out. Chicken before the egg, as it were. Kids start watching TV in the womb, these days. If the parents are glued to the tube, why won't the kids be?
My darlin' Mom worried about our change in facial expressions when we watched TV, back in the dark ages of Black and White. Yup, TV used to be B/W. Dinosaurs roamed the face of the earth. I was probably 4 or five, when I first saw TV? Gosh, I can't remember;)
Mom didn't like how our expressions drained away, to vapid staring. Mindlessness begins with those boxes, even as they expand your mind.
I STILL don't know how one works. Why don't they teach you that in school??
I do remember being transfixed. I remember screaming, with no idea why I was screaming, when I saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I was nine or ten, fcs...
I can only imagine what those flashy lights do to kids now. Scares me, quite frankly.
The media has ultimate power over all of us.
Don't ever forget that.
Don't worry, you sure don't have to read the whole darned thing. Ian Cumming had some interesting things to say, as did Connie Mallory. Opposites sides of the same darn system. I was "semi-aware" of this, as usual, I took the middle road between the two parties. I still don't quite believe that Hugh Coghill said what he said, because he may very well have been talking about Mr. Funny Farmer from my last post, too. BTW, since no-one showed any interest as to what the funny famer's pigs did? Half-fed cows, hungry feral pigs. ByeBye, cow's rectums. There was a HUGE public uproar, Mr. FF can never own pigs again. He can still own cattle, though.
And now, everyone just ignores Mr. FF's place. Everyone, including the OSPCA. (Okay, his neighbours cannot ignore his place. His place destroys their property values. Oh, well.)
Hey, Hugh Coghill retired. Why am I always the last to know this shite?
I guess I should have been spending all of my time researching the Bill C50 issue, who really needs a job? I've learned everything I know about the Humane Laws in this province, by simply living where I do.
Food water shelter. Doesn't have to be enough food, the water can be filled with feces, the shelter can leak. C'est tout. Skinny, neglected animals are not illegal.
I'll say this again, as patiently as I can, without screaming.
The Animal Welfare movement is backfiring. Anyone else smell the H2SO4? Considering my previous post, and all, I truly wonder. Puppy Mills are entirely legal. Think about it.
On to more obvious reporting.. I found this on RefDesk, link to your right. My left;)
"Too many hours playing video games and watching TV may be impairing youngsters' ability to focus in school. A recent study found that students who exceed the recommended two hours a day of screen time are almost twice as likely to have attention problems. Despite the fact that playing video games is perceived as a less passive activity than simply watching TV, both appear to have roughly the same link to attention problems. Researchers say that it is likely that TV and video games increase attention problems, however, they also note these media, in all likelihood, attract children that already have attention problems."
Oh, please, the last sentence is such a total cop-out. Chicken before the egg, as it were. Kids start watching TV in the womb, these days. If the parents are glued to the tube, why won't the kids be?
My darlin' Mom worried about our change in facial expressions when we watched TV, back in the dark ages of Black and White. Yup, TV used to be B/W. Dinosaurs roamed the face of the earth. I was probably 4 or five, when I first saw TV? Gosh, I can't remember;)
Mom didn't like how our expressions drained away, to vapid staring. Mindlessness begins with those boxes, even as they expand your mind.
I STILL don't know how one works. Why don't they teach you that in school??
I do remember being transfixed. I remember screaming, with no idea why I was screaming, when I saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I was nine or ten, fcs...
I can only imagine what those flashy lights do to kids now. Scares me, quite frankly.
The media has ultimate power over all of us.
Don't ever forget that.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The One
I read with recognition of those who have the One horse, and the horse goes lame etc., and their riding goes downhill, and they... (fill in the blank). I totally sympathize. Setting your sights/hopes/dreams/aspirations on the One, can really take away from the needs of the many. As in YouR many needs, as an owner/rider.
I still wish there was some form of "co-op" Riding Stable, that could actually work. Maybe it would need managed by completely non-horse people;) Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a stable where the horses are "shared" amongst the co-owners? Where everyone always has something to ride. Murphy's Law dictates a minimum of 10 horses, to ensure the "at least one horse is always rideable" rule. Hey, with MY luck? Fifteen horses.
I've said since I started blogging that riding needs variety, for the horse AND the rider, too. A good rider is made from riding as many different types as possible, to "round out" your leg's education. A good horse should be ride-able for anyone with a modicum of skill, and if not, the rider should be taking supervised lessons, until the rider can ride many horses comfortably.
That's only my opinion, but it just so happens to be true:)
It IS disheartening when your pride and joy comes up with something that stops the ride time. Try not to let him down, by not riding at all. Your horse needs you to stay fit, for when you do start riding him again. If you don't have another horse to ride, increase your riding exercises. Or I will crack my whip;)
Riding Exercises can be anything from walking to running to yoga to, well, you know. Stay fit. Even when your horse is off, he retains a surprising amount of his fitness, for a very long time. Animals are like that. People, not so much.
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