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DOGS ARE NOT PEOPLE!

Erin Wylie received a sentence of one year in prison for her role in the theft and drowning death of her ex-boyfriend's dog.
http://www.seacoastonline.com/news/09282005/news/65137.htm

Some think this is a just sentence and some think not. Either way, this case is one that has inflamed opinions since May of 2004 when the arrest occurred and the news hit the papers about the crime. I personally think that it should have been a blip on the radar. Wylie and... what's her name? The other one?... should have been prosecuted for theft and the animal cruelty charge and it should have been treated as a small, third page two inch column. Read some seacoast opinions here:
http://www.seacoastonline.com/news/square/9_28square.htm

It seems like the older people get, the less reality they are privvy to. DOGS ARE NOT PEOPLE! Look -- the teenagers have more common sense than the 40 year olds! Smarten up!

I understand that we love our pets. I have 7 pets. I have two dogs, three cats, a rat and a goldfish. I love my animals. I spend some money on them. My friends tease me that I should charge rent to my cats for their gargantuan cat tree (I got for a song on ebay, by the way!). I bring my dogs to work with me every day. My rat has a high-rise cage and is so well cared for that she is an astounding 5 years old. Even my goldfish is blessed with disco lights strung from her oversized bowl.

But make no mistake. If one of my animals came down with some God-awful illness, such as cancer, which required thousands of dollars of treatment, I would be opting for the needle. Yes, I would cry. Yes, my kids would cry. And yes, we would all be able to sleep at night, knowing that we are not committing virtual crimes against humanity by spending thousands of dollars on cancer treatment for animals when there are families out there who cannot afford to be at their children's sides while they're hospitalized for cancer, thus leaving their babies alone in their hospital rooms for days at a time. Or even afford the chemo. My children will not see me spend our savings (their savings) on our animals when we pass homeless men every day on our way to school. My children will take the lesson with them as they grow into adulthood that animals are not as important as people.

As a country and as a human race, we need to get a grip on our humanity. We spend thousands and millions of dollars pampering our pets every year. We spend thousands and millions keeping them alive when in all reality it would be best not to.

Folks, it's okay to spend a few bucks on your pets. But understand -- it is a SELF-indulgence. Your dog, cat, parrot, gerbil does NOT CARE what sort of collar or cage it has. Your cat is as happy in a cardboard box with couple of terry towels as it is on a $200 bed from Drs Foster and Smith. Your 12 year old schnauzer is not worth spending $3000 on treating its kidney failure to keep it alive for another 1 or 2 years. Your pet if it could speak probably would tell you it would rather go to the rainbow bridge. Please, take your $3K and donate it to the Ronald McDonald house, or the Shriners, or the Katrina relief effort.

ANIMALS ARE NOT PEOPLE.

Posted by at 11:20 AM | Comments (14)

The Wedding Singers

My mother has ways of subtly reminding me of my status as an unmarried parent and marginally financially stable homeowner. Mom and Dad cannot fathom the idea of their child living a full and happy life sans partner. She eschews my opinion that a husband/S.O. is a completely unnecessary complication in a woman’s life. She suggests casually that perhaps I could try showing affection to someone other than my kids or one of my many pets (why do you think I have them, Mom?). Hey, I have friends who love me! Cut me some slack!

Recently she asked me to auction off a parcel of self help books for her. I couldn't help but wonder what she, a 60 year old woman, married 40 years to the same guy, would need with book titles such as "Date...or Soul Mate? How to Know if Someone Is Worth Pursuing in Two Dates or Less" or "Families in Later Life: Connections and Transitions"... I just had to laugh at the obviously placed "Finding the Right Words: Offering Care and Comfort When You Don't Know What to Say" because I never have to find any words! They pop out of my mouth at amazing speed! Clearly, though, they are not the *right* words. Next in the pile was "How to Be Organized In Spite of Yourself." There were others along these lines in the stack.

I had to wonder if this was her way of telling me I need to change, or that there is something wrong with me because I seem to actually enjoy my single, bohemian lifestyle (complete with station wagon and pet barrier). I feel I’m successful at it, they feel I’m holding on to armsleeve floaties at the top of Niagra Falls. This is the puzzle. But I'm happy. I don't sense any itching on the old ring finger. I prefer to wake up alone (in my bed anyway). I don't have to answer to anyone, ever, and I'm the envy of all my hitched-up friends. We all pretty much have to do what I say here in Bullyland where I live. Okay, sex is nice, and the real thing is getting harder to come by (DVDs and battery powered toys don’t count). And I’ll admit sometimes it does suck not having someone around who knows how to do more than jiggle a handle when the toilet won't stop making swirly noises. But these are minor glitches in an otherwise perfect scheme. (Find a “buddy”? Call Roto-rooter? How about finding a handyman who can also be a “buddy?” Be creative!)

Just the very mention of the word “compromise” in regards to “relationship” can send me running to my therapist for a back up session. I am the bossiest person I know. My dogs were completely trained at the age of 16 weeks. My cats salute me at the door. My boss brings me Dunkin’s almost every morning (I’ll have to work on this “almost”). No, I don’t do compromise very well. (side note: Oddly enough, this is completely not true with my kids... hmmm.. must talk to Shrinky about this). I can't imagine any man other than Jesus Christ actually putting up with me for more than one week, and I feel guilty even asking Him for anything lately. Unfortunately, I feel like a few more years of therapy are in order before anything will change.

Regardless of my personal enlightenment of my emotional situation, my family has taken to dropping subtle hints to me about getting married while stabbing at me with an unused wedding cake knife. My sister reads me real estate listings from Virginia Beach on the phone and mentions how many single guys there are on the Naval base (with nice, stable Navy jobs, too, and you get them out of your hair for six whole months out of the year!). My brother extols the virtues of newlywed-ness and always sits me next to his best friend when we go out for Chinese. (This is particularly gross, as I've known this kid since he was 12 years old.) My dad, Mississippi boy that he is, actually liberated himself enough to cover any possible missing bases by listing the names of states that allow gay marriages. (I'd rather have the list of states that allow medicinal pot, Dad!) (side note: I wonder if I could find a doctor to prescribe it for manic depression?)

I know better. Mom and Dad are thinking of their future and are terrified they'll be stuck living with li'l Miss Hard Ass for their golden years. Living with me is something they're very schooled in and probably not looking forward to doing without a support network of, say, a husband and a bunch of inlaws. However, it isn't going to happen, as far as I can see. I told my mom, "Nice try with the books, but don’t you love me as I am?" To which she replied, "Well, only a mother could! That’s your point, isn’t it?" She said I was bullheaded, but I took it as a compliment. So anyway, I listed all the books on eBay for my mum and titled the auction "For Those Easily Led." She wasn't amused, but she did get thirty bucks, which she split with me. Bully for me.

Posted by at 11:48 AM | Comments (7)

About this Blog

Some may wonder how I can enjoy my life as an underpaid, over 30 (okay, more like pushing 40) single person here on the seacoast. I barely get my mortgage paid, I can never find my phone bill or even my phone for that matter, I have been flying by the seat of my pants my entire adult life and am enjoying the ride immensely. I am the happiest person I know!

I’m also one of the smartest, having accumulated my knowledge through the surefire process of live-and-learn. Though appearances would have me looking like the flakiest person around I am amazed at the lack of common sense I encounter on a daily basis. It’s incredible. Why am I so poor?

I’ve decided to create this blog to bestow upon the seacoast the right opinion on everything from dating and sex to parenting and the godless PTA, the music scene, and EVERYTHING ELSE. Between my life experiences and keen observation skills, I’ve got excellent credentials for the job: I come from a large dysfunctional, hybridized clan of wailing Irish Catholics, I graduated from Punk Rock High School (1986), was a single parent at 17 and am now a “retired” musician with a day job and thinly controlled lifelong cases of ADHD & bipolar disorder – and I’m still alive! I’ve made all the mistakes, survived to tell the stories and I’m here to right the wrongs! I’m uber opinionated, bossy, and a once a month beeyatch with several years to go. (Expect the blog to be super-fly during that week).

I’m certain you’ll either learn something or laugh at me, either way, you’ll enjoy yourself here. Come on in to Bullyland, my knowledge lounge, often. Join me as I wade through the bullshit of everyday life and sort it all out. Get some learnin’, have a laugh. Or both.

Posted by at 07:55 PM | Comments (4)