MJ's little flock

[RoyalChick]

I'm with RC. There's a base line: food, water, shelter, love. Anyone can give those. Abuse & neglect are not the province of the poor. Rich people can be worse. The number of dogs vets see because owners overindulge them in treats that make them end up sick is just a different sort of abuse.

Agree on abuse.
What I was thinking is you need some resources to protect abuse from others.
The street is often not a safe place for people or animals if for example gangs of kids are playing in a nasty way with an animal. So you need some place to keep the animal safe either with you or when you are not around.

 

[Ribh]

Agree on abuse.
What I was thinking is you need some resources to protect abuse from others.
The street is often not a safe place for people or animals if for example gangs of kids are playing in a nasty way with an animal. So you need some place to keep the animal safe either with you or when you are not around.

Certainly! I was merely trying to highlight there are other forms of abuse than neglect ~ ones that often aren't seen as abuse by owners. My cats almost never get treats, not because I'm mean but because it's not good for them. Ditto the chickens. I consider lack of training of dogs a form of abuse. Dogs do better when they respect the heirachy. Many homeless people have dogs who never leave their owners side & these people choose to remain on the streets because shelters don't allow animals. The animals are fed & cared for & loved but as homeless as their owners.

 

[RoyalChick]

Certainly! I was merely trying to highlight there are other forms of abuse than neglect ~ ones that often aren't seen as abuse by owners. My cats almost never get treats, not because I'm mean but because it's not good for them. Ditto the chickens. I consider lack of training of dogs a form of abuse. Dogs do better when they respect the heirachy. Many homeless people have dogs who never leave their owners side & these people choose to remain on the streets because shelters don't allow animals. The animals are fed & cared for & loved but as homeless as their owners.

Fully agree.

 

[RoyalChick]

I have to agree with with Ribh and RC. If you don't have a lot of money but are able to provide those things, and don't abuse, there's no reason why you shouldn't have a pet. Maybe not 20, but just one. I think if you can truly love an animal, it helps make you a good person.

I remember my DH told me a story ages ago about one time when he took our cats to the vet. There was a really tough-looking guy there, covered in tats, bawling his eyes out because a dog had mauled his puppy and it had to be put down. Apparently the guy's mum had to come and get him because he was so distraught. I think if you are that moved by the welfare of an animal, you are a good person and deserve to love a pet.

Tax:
View attachment 2888209

This reminds me of when I moved to New Jersey from overseas. It was a move for my job so the company paid to move my three cats.
There are special areas of the cargo hold for pets so it is reasonably safe for them to travel but obviously still traumatic.
I was a complete wreck deciding do I fly with the cats? That means I can crate them up but then we all arrive together to a new place that is not yet cat-safe and doesn’t have cat friendly places to hide away. Or do I leave the cats so I can fly first and prepare their new home. In the end I did the latter and had a friend crate them up and hand them over to be loaded in the plane.
It was winter and cold and dark and I had to find my way to the cargo depot at Newark airport. I was in a tiny rental car and had arrived myself inly 24 hours before. I had spent the time getting cat food and checking the house for cat dangers and placing bedding around the place that I had brought with me so they had some familiar scents to calm them.
The cargo depot at Newark is where a lot of perishable produce comes in to the US from Europe. I remember peppers from Spain particularly.
It is filled with long-haul truckers who then drive the produce into the middle of the country.
These are big tough guys. The group of four who were waiting when I went in had more ink than teeth, and their 18-wheeler rigs dwarfed my little rental car in the lot outside.
A little nervously I went to the counter which was one of those counters that officialdom uses to intimidate the public. It was almost as tall as me and a stern, gun-carrying customs officer stood behind it looking down.
He gave me a bunch of forms and told me to wait my turn.
I said “thank you sir” and obediently turned to sit with the truckers (I wasn’t about to cause any trouble in that setting!).
But the cats heard my voice. They were out of sight behind the officer presumably stacked up with the peppers.
And they started crying. All three of them. It was a chorus of yowls and pathetic squeaks.
All four truckers leapt up and went to the counter and started banging in it, and with raised voices demanded of the customs officer to “give the lady her kitties RIGHT NOW!”.
The customs officer relented and let me in the back to get the cats. The truckers accompanied me and picked up the cat crates and carried them for me to my little rental car. Three carried one cat crate each and the 4th held doors and helped load them into the car.
This all accompanied by a chorus of “here kitty kitty you will be at your new home soon, don’t be scared”.
Remembering this still brings tears to my eyes. I was tired and stressed and these four guys were so kind and to a man such softies trying to pet the cats through the bars of the crate.
I don’t have good pictures of them - they lived until they were just shy of twenty which was just as we were getting phones with cameras. Here are the two sisters well advanced in age. Their brother was a sweet ginger tabby who died before I got a phone.
And for tax I give you Minnie from yesterday - still sporting her lone tail feather and being active in the yard.

 

[MaryJanet]

This reminds me of when I moved to New Jersey from overseas. It was a move for my job so the company paid to move my three cats.
There are special areas of the cargo hold for pets so it is reasonably safe for them to travel but obviously still traumatic.
I was a complete wreck deciding do I fly with the cats? That means I can crate them up but then we all arrive together to a new place that is not yet cat-safe and doesn’t have cat friendly places to hide away. Or do I leave the cats so I can fly first and prepare their new home. In the end I did the latter and had a friend crate them up and hand them over to be loaded in the plane.
It was winter and cold and dark and I had to find my way to the cargo depot at Newark airport. I was in a tiny rental car and had arrived myself inly 24 hours before. I had spent the time getting cat food and checking the house for cat dangers and placing bedding around the place that I had brought with me so they had some familiar scents to calm them.
The cargo depot at Newark is where a lot of perishable produce comes in to the US from Europe. I remember peppers from Spain particularly.
It is filled with long-haul truckers who then drive the produce into the middle of the country.
These are big tough guys. The group of four who were waiting when I went in had more ink than teeth, and their 18-wheeler rigs dwarfed my little rental car in the lot outside.
A little nervously I went to the counter which was one of those counters that officialdom uses to intimidate the public. It was almost as tall as me and a stern, gun-carrying customs officer stood behind it looking down.
He gave me a bunch of forms and told me to wait my turn.
I said “thank you sir” and obediently turned to sit with the truckers (I wasn’t about to cause any trouble in that setting!).
But the cats heard my voice. They were out of sight behind the officer presumably stacked up with the peppers.
And they started crying. All three of them. It was a chorus of yowls and pathetic squeaks.
All four truckers leapt up and went to the counter and started banging in it, and with raised voices demanded of the customs officer to “give the lady her kitties RIGHT NOW!”.
The customs officer relented and let me in the back to get the cats. The truckers accompanied me and picked up the cat crates and carried them for me to my little rental car. Three carried one cat crate each and the 4th held doors and helped load them into the car.
This all accompanied by a chorus of “here kitty kitty you will be at your new home soon, don’t be scared”.
Remembering this still brings tears to my eyes. I was tired and stressed and these four guys were so kind and to a man such softies trying to pet the cats through the bars of the crate.
I don’t have good pictures of them - they lived until they were just shy of twenty which was just as we were getting phones with cameras. Here are the two sisters well advanced in age. Their brother was a sweet ginger tabby who died before I got a phone.
And for tax I give you Minnie from yesterday - still sporting her lone tail feather and being active in the yard.
View attachment 2888408View attachment 2888409View attachment 2888410View attachment 2888411

That's a beautiful story RC

 

[MaryJanet]

I have to agree with with Ribh and RC. If you don't have a lot of money but are able to provide those things, and don't abuse, there's no reason why you shouldn't have a pet. Maybe not 20, but just one. I think if you can truly love an animal, it helps make you a good person.

I remember my DH told me a story ages ago about one time when he took our cats to the vet. There was a really tough-looking guy there, covered in tats, bawling his eyes out because a dog had mauled his puppy and it had to be put down. Apparently the guy's mum had to come and get him because he was so distraught. I think if you are that moved by the welfare of an animal, you are a good person and deserve to love a pet.

Tax:
View attachment 2888209

Awww I love this story too that poor fellow, losing his puppy so traumatically.

 

[MaryJanet]

Certainly! I was merely trying to highlight there are other forms of abuse than neglect ~ ones that often aren't seen as abuse by owners. My cats almost never get treats, not because I'm mean but because it's not good for them. Ditto the chickens. I consider lack of training of dogs a form of abuse. Dogs do better when they respect the heirachy. Many homeless people have dogs who never leave their owners side & these people choose to remain on the streets because shelters don't allow animals. The animals are fed & cared for & loved but as homeless as their owners.

This is such a great reminder. I've seen many homeless people with dogs.

It actually disappoints me because We (South Aussies) haven't the gumption to provide proper homes for people who need them and their dogs.

 

[MaryJanet]

This reminds me of when I moved to New Jersey from overseas. It was a move for my job so the company paid to move my three cats.
There are special areas of the cargo hold for pets so it is reasonably safe for them to travel but obviously still traumatic.
I was a complete wreck deciding do I fly with the cats? That means I can crate them up but then we all arrive together to a new place that is not yet cat-safe and doesn’t have cat friendly places to hide away. Or do I leave the cats so I can fly first and prepare their new home. In the end I did the latter and had a friend crate them up and hand them over to be loaded in the plane.
It was winter and cold and dark and I had to find my way to the cargo depot at Newark airport. I was in a tiny rental car and had arrived myself inly 24 hours before. I had spent the time getting cat food and checking the house for cat dangers and placing bedding around the place that I had brought with me so they had some familiar scents to calm them.
The cargo depot at Newark is where a lot of perishable produce comes in to the US from Europe. I remember peppers from Spain particularly.
It is filled with long-haul truckers who then drive the produce into the middle of the country.
These are big tough guys. The group of four who were waiting when I went in had more ink than teeth, and their 18-wheeler rigs dwarfed my little rental car in the lot outside.
A little nervously I went to the counter which was one of those counters that officialdom uses to intimidate the public. It was almost as tall as me and a stern, gun-carrying customs officer stood behind it looking down.
He gave me a bunch of forms and told me to wait my turn.
I said “thank you sir” and obediently turned to sit with the truckers (I wasn’t about to cause any trouble in that setting!).
But the cats heard my voice. They were out of sight behind the officer presumably stacked up with the peppers.
And they started crying. All three of them. It was a chorus of yowls and pathetic squeaks.
All four truckers leapt up and went to the counter and started banging in it, and with raised voices demanded of the customs officer to “give the lady her kitties RIGHT NOW!”.
The customs officer relented and let me in the back to get the cats. The truckers accompanied me and picked up the cat crates and carried them for me to my little rental car. Three carried one cat crate each and the 4th held doors and helped load them into the car.
This all accompanied by a chorus of “here kitty kitty you will be at your new home soon, don’t be scared”.
Remembering this still brings tears to my eyes. I was tired and stressed and these four guys were so kind and to a man such softies trying to pet the cats through the bars of the crate.
I don’t have good pictures of them - they lived until they were just shy of twenty which was just as we were getting phones with cameras. Here are the two sisters well advanced in age. Their brother was a sweet ginger tabby who died before I got a phone.
And for tax I give you Minnie from yesterday - still sporting her lone tail feather and being active in the yard.
View attachment 2888408View attachment 2888409View attachment 2888410View attachment 2888411

Now you've had a little more time with Minnie, are you confident she's doing ok now?

 

[RoyalChick]

Now you've had a little more time with Minnie, are you confident she's doing ok now?

I will feel more confident when I see a proper poop, but all signs are that she is totally fine. She loves being out in the yard and digging and she is totally into cabbage so I got her another one yesterday. I still haven't seen her eating the commercial food. Such a strange little chicken. Her sister Dotty seems to be barely molting at all.

 

[LozzyR]

This reminds me of when I moved to New Jersey from overseas. It was a move for my job so the company paid to move my three cats.
There are special areas of the cargo hold for pets so it is reasonably safe for them to travel but obviously still traumatic.
I was a complete wreck deciding do I fly with the cats? That means I can crate them up but then we all arrive together to a new place that is not yet cat-safe and doesn’t have cat friendly places to hide away. Or do I leave the cats so I can fly first and prepare their new home. In the end I did the latter and had a friend crate them up and hand them over to be loaded in the plane.
It was winter and cold and dark and I had to find my way to the cargo depot at Newark airport. I was in a tiny rental car and had arrived myself inly 24 hours before. I had spent the time getting cat food and checking the house for cat dangers and placing bedding around the place that I had brought with me so they had some familiar scents to calm them.
The cargo depot at Newark is where a lot of perishable produce comes in to the US from Europe. I remember peppers from Spain particularly.
It is filled with long-haul truckers who then drive the produce into the middle of the country.
These are big tough guys. The group of four who were waiting when I went in had more ink than teeth, and their 18-wheeler rigs dwarfed my little rental car in the lot outside.
A little nervously I went to the counter which was one of those counters that officialdom uses to intimidate the public. It was almost as tall as me and a stern, gun-carrying customs officer stood behind it looking down.
He gave me a bunch of forms and told me to wait my turn.
I said “thank you sir” and obediently turned to sit with the truckers (I wasn’t about to cause any trouble in that setting!).
But the cats heard my voice. They were out of sight behind the officer presumably stacked up with the peppers.
And they started crying. All three of them. It was a chorus of yowls and pathetic squeaks.
All four truckers leapt up and went to the counter and started banging in it, and with raised voices demanded of the customs officer to “give the lady her kitties RIGHT NOW!”.
The customs officer relented and let me in the back to get the cats. The truckers accompanied me and picked up the cat crates and carried them for me to my little rental car. Three carried one cat crate each and the 4th held doors and helped load them into the car.
This all accompanied by a chorus of “here kitty kitty you will be at your new home soon, don’t be scared”.
Remembering this still brings tears to my eyes. I was tired and stressed and these four guys were so kind and to a man such softies trying to pet the cats through the bars of the crate.
I don’t have good pictures of them - they lived until they were just shy of twenty which was just as we were getting phones with cameras. Here are the two sisters well advanced in age. Their brother was a sweet ginger tabby who died before I got a phone.
And for tax I give you Minnie from yesterday - still sporting her lone tail feather and being active in the yard.
View attachment 2888408View attachment 2888409View attachment 2888410View attachment 2888411

Aww, that’s such a lovely story. I shared it with DH, he thought it was lovely too!