Striking at the Roots: A Practical Guide to Animal Activism

 Striking at the Roots: A Practical Guide to Animal Activism by Mark Hawthorne

2010

Weight: 12.8 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating

To think, I have been carrying this book around all this time, and it is essentially PETA propaganda.  I cannot think of an animal rights group that has less of my support, despite our common disdain for factory farms, research with live animals, and other animal abuse.  Their tactics have made them a laughing stock and made animal rights activist everywhere look bad.  Not to mention, their open disdain for no-kill shelters, which goes directly against the work I have been doing the last 14 years.  They could not be more wrong about what no-kill looks like to me.  In addition to that, Best Friends is well on the road to proving them wrong on a large scale.  Given, they will never see it that way, because they would rather see an animal euthanized than to be adopted out as a companion animal to most people.  Always out for the shock value and getting news coverage, they will do all sorts, like boycott Jimmy Carter for fishing, send naked women to protest in the streets, petition to change "ham lake" to "yam lake," and show you graphic, brutal pictures to scare you into doing the right thing.  

A lot of people seem to like this book and, if I could manage to step back from hating how often PETA is used as an example and/or cited, I guess I could see that some of it might be useful for a completely green, young person, who has not yet done any activism or been to any protests.  Within this book, there is an incredibly basic introduction to civil disobedience.  In that way, it is a touch useful.

Either way, to each their own.  I am donating it because everyone has the right to choose how and who they want to engage with and, God knows, we do need more animal rights' activists.  The things we do to animals in our society (and in almost every society) are deplorable and overwhelmingly sad.  We are brutal and, with factory farms in particular, we are worse than heartless.  We are cruel and inhumane torturers.  I know THAT sentence makes me sound like PETA but, in that case, it is true.  The people at those facilities are also treated terribly so it is should be no surprise that the animals are.

Shelter Dogs

Shelter Dogs: Amazing Stories of Adopted Strays  by Peg Kehret
2005
Weight: 4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving at Joe's in EAV

What is second best to a young adult book with LGBTQI characters?!  A young adult book (really more of a "chapter book") about shelter dogs!  I loved animals as a child, so many of us do and so many of us lose that passion and emapthy as we grow up.  It is encouraged when we are young, but it is something you grow out of.  You may still love cats and dogs, wax poetic about dolphins, but it is not as awe-inducing as it was and it should not effect your life dramatically.  If your canine companion is not allowed at the new apartment you are dying to move into get rid of him.  You can't let a mangy mutt get in the way of your happiness!  So what if the burger you are eating is actually a cow that suffered tremendous cruelty in a factory farm?  Nothing you can do about it.  One person cannot change the world!

I say, get em started early and then encourage them to be repsonsible/respectful in adulthood.  There is no need for breeding and animal homelessness.  There are millions of wonderful, loving pets out there looking for permanent homes, and they have some really increbible stories.  I can tell you hundreds just from the one shelter I work at.

Here is one of the best:

Turner is a handsome pit bull that was rescued from a life of dog fighting.  He came to PAWS Atlanta covered in scars, emotionally and physically.  Despite the fact that he was saved from a terrible, unthinkable situation, his troubles were not over.  Due to fear of the breed and his past, he sat at the shelter for years.  We began to wonder if he would ever find a home, but one day his hero (and ours) walked through our gates and took Turner home.

Turner is now an ambassador for his breed.  He has helped raise an infant to toddler-hood.  He lives with other rescued dogs and helps comfort pups that need a place to stay until they can be transported to other places where they can be adopted.  He has been in his loving home for many years, and he still regularly visits us with donations and supplies for the shelter.  You can see him, as he makes regular appearances on Facebook, cuddling with his kid and sleeping soundly under the covers in bed.

Picture taken by owners in their home

 

Something Wicked This Way Comes By Ray Bradbury

1983

Weight: 4 oz

Method of Disposal: The foster puppy, Leda, ate it and the remnants are in the recycling bin

The joys of puppyhood and of fosterdom. I always tell people, confidently and smartly, that I only adopt dogs 4 years and older. It is not exactly true, but I want it to be. In a world where I did not adopt dogs so that they would not be euthanized, I would only adopt adults and seniors. I know this is counter-intuitive since adults and seniors are put down more often than the younger ones, but in the case of pit bulls—all bets are off, all pits are at risk, and if you meet the right one at the right moment you take it home whether it is 10 months old or 12 years old. Hell, I took the wrong one at the wrong time, when she was 10 months old, and she reaffirmed every reason I ever gave for not adopting a puppy, and now she is the perfect 4.5 year old girl for me. All of this is to say, that I am still adamant that adults and seniors are the way to go. They need you and you need them.

So, why do I torment myself with fostering kittens and puppies?! I foster adult animals too, but I do not have a foster age limit or maxim. I guess that it is true, on some level, that babies (particularly animal babies) are made super cute for a reason and that most people are susceptible. When I walked into the clinic over 8 months ago and saw a little baby girl that looked like my Sergei, licking the vet techs' faces, despite the fact that they were removing an embedded collar, I just had to take her home to heal. I knew it would be a short-term commitment, and I knew I could give that puppy some of the things she needed until someone else could do better.

I took her home. I cleaned, medicated, and re-bandaged her oozing neck wound. I treated her for mange, and then I took her in to be spayed. I thought she would go on the adoption floor days later, but that was not what was in store for us. As it were, Leda had a failing kidney that had to be removed. I took her to the emergency vet and then to the specialist. There was a terrible and sickening chance she would die. But she didn't. The relief was overwhelming. We just had to make sure her other kidney was functioning properly.

Once that was in order, it was time for her to find a loving home. Wrong. She had ringworm. We went through quarantines, lyme dips, and oral medications. It took a Long. Damn. Time. I am getting excited/nervous ahead of time, and I know I shouldn't do that lest I test the universe, but she may go into a forever home this weekend or next week.

One of my many heartbreaking trophies from my relationship with this beautiful, intense, hellion I loved for so long is this copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes. It was one of many books to be shredded when I was not paying attention (it only takes a few moments). It is the only one that remains recognizable, though not readable. I was frustrated when I found it in the living room, the kitchen, her bedroom. I had wanted to read it, but I never had. Why was this dog still here?!

It is true that I am about to put it in the recycling bin now, but as I hold it in my hands I think about all the wonderful attributes Leda contains in that tiny little tank of a body and that always-rearin'-to-go mind. I think about all the goofy things that have made me laugh out loud and all of the sweet kisses she gave me when I rubbed her belly. The way she so eagerly and rapidly sits, shakes, and lays down (seemingly all at the same time) when she sees a treat. Sure, I also think about all the times I complained about her (SO MANY times) and all the aggravation, but it takes on a whole new light. I also, miserably, recall her crying in pain after her surgeries, waking her up during nightmares, and falling asleep with her many nights on a pallet on the floor since she could not sleep with my dogs. I think of her exuberance when she gets to play with other dogs and new people. I love that wicked little dog. I love her so much.

 And I worry, now that the time is finally here, that she will never know how much, that she will never know why I had to give her up, and that her new family will not fully realize her wonder. But I also know that I cannot offer her the things she needs. I cannot afford her the life she deserves, the life she will soon have. I cannot do these things with my current work hours and with my own special needs dogs. For 8 months, I have known this, fretted over it, mourned it, stressed about it. It is time, for me and her, but I hope that I can continue to get updates from her new life and know that what we did, while imperfect, was incredible and that it has bonded us for life. Even if I never see her again. That I gave her the chance she needed to survive and that she gave me the experience of witnessing and partaking in her embodiment of all-encompassing joy, despite all of the hurdles she had to overcome.

R.I.P. Leviticus May 6, 2011

Quick and Easy Hamster Care The Pet Experts at T F H
2002
Weight: 3.2 oz
Method of Disposal: Donate or give away




Two months ago, I was taking trash to the dumpster at work, and I saw a filthy little aquarium out of the corner of my eye. I tossed out the trash and slowly approached it, afraid of what I would find. The sides were splashed with red paint. I peered in. I have never seen a cage look so dirty, so desolate. It was covered in feces and urine. There was no food. No water. There was a small hamster.

Leviticus was losing hair, his eyes were sealed shut, and he was so soiled that he could not even go to the bathroom—he was blocked. He had mats that had to be cut out of his fur with scissors. I carried him into the clinic and held him while the vet staff tried to figure out what all was wrong with him. I thought for sure he would be euthanized. Just by luck, the vet happened to be there that day. We got him cleaned up, cleared out his system, gave him an injection, and then we were sent home with oral antibiotics and eye drops.

My coworkers collected money to buy Lev a new cage. It was beautiful. Clean, plenty of room to stretch, to climb, and to burrow. He only got to enjoy it for a short while, but he did seem to enjoy it. Throughout all of his medical treatments, he was so gentle and so passive. He only nibbled on my once when I picked him up for the first time and once on his first visit back to the shelter, but it did not hurt and he never did it again. Not when I had to clean his eyes and open them every morning, not when I had to hold him down for shots, and not when I had to clean him up.

There is no need for an animal to ever be treated like that. Hamsters are so easy to take care of. It is cruelty and laziness that created a living hell for Lev. I guess the kindest thing those people did was dump him in the parking lot, but even that they couldn’t get right. You don’t leave a living thing, in a glass cage, outside under the sun, with no food or water, and just hope someone finds him in time.

He always slept out in the open, which is very unusual for a hamster. They are prey animals and will generally try to burrow or hide when they sleep. He would never go in any of the huts or houses I bought him. He probably never had anything to go in while he was growing up. How did he stay so placid?

I loved the little guy. I loved to watch him climb and to hold him, while giving him banana flavored treats. I knew he wasn’t doing well. One day, I came home to a lot of blood and a large clot in his cage. Things went downhill from there and, at some point, I had to take him to be euthanized. I couldn’t stand to watch him suffer anymore, shivering in the corner of his cage. On May 6, 2011 he finally quit struggling. I just hope that he had a good two months at my house and that he knew he was loved and cared for in the end.

The Chimpanzees of Gombe

Through a Window: My Thirty Years with the Chimpanzees of Gombe by Jane Goodall
2000
Weight: 14 oz.
Method of Disposal: Giving to my Mother, one person who seemed somewhat interested in my ramblings about the book.




I bought this book on discount when I worked at Barnes and Noble. I was only vaguely interested in reading it and only got it because it was such a good deal. I have admired Jane Goodall, and thus chimpanzees, ever since I first heard of her way back when, but it just was not on the top of my reading list. I felt that I had already read so much about her and so much about chimpanzees. I, obviously, have a passion for animals on top of it all and that is what led me to pick this book up out of a pile of others earlier this week.

It did end up surpassing my expectations, and I felt I did not know as much as I thought I did. For several days, I became enmeshed in this chimpanzee world and had trouble leaving it. I could put the book down easy enough. I wasn’t constantly trying to get back to it, but I could not get the chimps out of my head. I found myself inflicting others with conversations about Goodall and the chimps when most people obviously did not care. Probably, they also felt that they had already read or seen enough. Maybe they have, but I am willing to bet that most of them don’t know the half of it.

I kept seeing chimpanzee-like behavior in people that I knew, and it was fascinating. I had also, previously, idealized chimps and was a little shocked at how violent they could be. I found myself feeling angry and disappointed with them often, not unlike I feel towards people. It was really helpful to glean this information from Goodall, who respects and loves the chimps and has spent much of her life with them. She was able to present this information, while also balancing it with examples of kindness and compassion amongst the animals. In one of the final chapters, she discusses how similar people are to chimps, but also highlights their differences. She believes that only humans are capable of evil and torture, or martyrdom.

It is also sad to think of what would have happened to Goodall in the year 2011 if she were to try to go off on a similar expedition at the age she was in the 60s and with the same inexperience. It is easy to envision her being shot down, and then we would have lost so much valuable insight or it would have taken us much longer to get it. What are we missing now? Anything? I guess there is no need to dwell. Excellent people are held back every day, and excellent people push through all the barriers from time to time, throughout history. I am just glad Goodall made it and that she has made it her mission to let others know about Chimps, their link to human behavior, and the need to help save them and other animals from destruction and/or miserable living conditions. I am glad she was able to stand apart from some of the more sterile thinking involved in scientific research and observe the chimpanzees with the full knowledge that they are sentient and emotional beings.

National Animal Consumption Month

Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer
2009
Weight: 1.2 lbs
Method of Disposal: Giving to ex-girlfriend

“In the typical cage for egg-laying hens each bird has 67 square inches of space—the size of the rectangle above. Nearly all cage free birds have approximately the same amount of space.”
I was driving to the animal shelter when NPR informed me it was National Hamburger Month. It was around 7:30 am, and there was a lot of talk about a “Ghetto Burger” that you can buy at Ann’s in Atlanta. This acclaimed burger has two “fist-sized” patties, bacon, chili, cheese, seasoning, and whatever “salad” you want on top. It was made famous by a Wall Street Journal reporter, and long lines of people have continued to come to get a taste of it ever since.
A quick search of the internet also let me know that it is National BBQ month and National Egg Month. May is pretty hoppin’ when it comes to celebrating the consumption of animals. In case you were curious, October is Vegetarian Awareness Month. Do note how only one of these four month-long celebrations includes the word “awareness.” The majority of Americans are raised to eat meat and many of us question it only when we are young. We are then given the excuses, the demands, the reprimands, and the overall socializing necessary to keep us eating animals for the rest of our lives.
In honor of National Hamburger/BBQ/Egg Month I am disbanding Eating Animals from the library. This is a book that exposes the horror of factory farms and not just for the animals but also for the people who are unknowingly eating filth. Safran Foer talks to multiple farmers with a variety of ideas on how to produce a more humane, healthier meat industry. He also speaks with a vegetarian involved in the slaughter of farm animals and writes about his personal struggles in becoming a vegetarian.
Safran Foer writes:
today a typical pig factory farm will produce 7.2 million pounds of manure annually, a typical broiler factory will produce 6.6. million pounds, and a typical feedlot 344 million pounds….All told, farmed animals in the United States produce 130 times as much waste as the human population—roughly 87,000 pounds of shit per second. The polluting strength of this shit is 160 times greater than raw municipal sewage. And yet there is almost no waste-treatment infrastructure for farmed animals…(174).
And about battery cages he writes this analogy:
Step your mind into a crowded elevator, an elevator so crowded you cannot turn around without bumping into (and aggravating) your neighbor. The elevator is so crowded you are often held aloft. This is a kind of blessing, as the slanted floor is made of wire, which cuts into your feet
After some time, those in the elevator will lose their ability to work in the interest of the group. Some will become violent; others will go mad. A few, deprived of food and hope, will become cannibalistic.
There is no respite, no relief. No elevator repairman is coming. The doors will open once, at the end of your life, for your journey to the only place worse {see: PROCESSING} (47).
I could pull out more and more from this book. I could pull out so much you would beg me to stop or you would just quit reading. I could give you some quotes about “processing” and “cosmetic blemishes.” All of the above and all of those things I am not inserting here were flying through my mind first thing this morning, on my way to the shelter, when I heard it was National Hamburger Month. Those three words sound like 87,000 pounds of shit per second to me.