Google Images: Russian Prison Tattoo
[One more then I can take tomorrow off and do a little curating (and laundry)]
Last time around I got to vent my spleen against one group of people I particularly don't like- The Rich... So I might get it out of my system and vent it against some people that I absolutely detest... Animal Abusers!
One particular type of animal abuser I really hate is the one that takes a pet somewhere and drops them off to fend for themselves... For some reason they found my cemeteries a very convenient drop-off spot- especially at night when no one was there. I'd get to work and find unwanted dogs and cats waiting... usually hungry and afraid.
The pound here in Ft. Smith does the best job it can trying to keep them, but after a certain period of time if nobody takes them, they're "put to sleep" (I hate that term- they kill them)- something I find unacceptable... So we branched out into the animal rescue business. We had three cemeteries- two in the same location. When people left dogs or cats in one, we would take them in and keep them where we had the most room at the time.
Paul (my asst.) and I were managers and made more than the other guys so we'd chip in more- but everybody did their part- and we made sure there was plenty of food and that they were up to date on their shots. Then we cleaned them up and found them homes... It was really easier than you'd think.
All the guys that worked there had 2 or 3 dogs. When people came there to find a grave or something, we always made sure they got a look at whatever dog or cat we were looking to place- it worked like charm... Honestly, at times though, I didn't know if I was running a marble orchard or an animal shelter! There were very cool dogs too... One day I was driving to Holy Cross when I found a Pit Bull (for some reason people discarded them a lot) down by the duck pond. He was one of the biggest dogs I ever saw- at least as big as a St. Bernard- he must have weighed 150 lbs... tan with a black snout. This guy was coming home with me!
I jumped out of my car and he came right to me, wagging his tail- just as friendly as can be. I loaded him into the car and headed to the house. When I got there my wife came out with Angus, our Sheltie. The dog Malcolm (Yup, I'm an AC/DC fan) and I were on our way to the gate when my wife saw him... Well, that was that! "Put that thing back in the car and get him out of here!" She says.
"But look at how friendly he is," I tell her. He and Angus were already making friends through the gate.
"I don't care how friendly he is- that thing isn't coming in that gate," she said and I could tell by her voice- he wasn't coming inside the gate.
"But he'll keep you safe while I'm at work," I say.
It didn't matter what I tried... Malcolm wasn't going to get to stay. One of the guys at Forest Park saw him and fell in love (it was hard not to)... he already had 5 dogs so one more wouldn't matter. He was really sweet and got along fine with people and other dogs. But, I really would have liked to keep him.
You know, if I might end by digressing, I hear all the time about man's inhumanity to his fellow man- but man's inhumanity to our furry brethren troubles me a lot more for some reason... perhaps because they depend on us so much. There was a rent house behind mine- a place frequently rented to people who would move out after a few months leaving a dog behind... Usually a Pit Bull- this is one...
I would, naturally, have to take care of them. Furthermore, it's always people who go to great lengths to make them mean... either for fighting, or protection, or whatever. So, first I would have to undo the damage. For example, the little lady in the picture was hiding in a hole under a piece of plywood starved half to death. She was chained, but she came at me like a shot... I brought bowls of food and water and had to push them to her with a rake. It took 3 days before she'd take a treat from my hand and let me pet her. This was true of all 3 or 4 of the Pitties I rescued from there. Then I'd find them a good forever home- somewhere I was sure they wouldn't be mistreated.
In fact, that's how I got my Bruno- my baby...
Some drunks had him and they would get drunk and torture him. They lived next door to one of my guys that worked for me. I knocked on their door with my Sig .45 in my waistband, after seeing them spraying him in the face with a high-pressure hose and laughing about it. I informed them that I was taking the dog or they wouldn't enjoy what would happen next... That's another perk of running cemeteries- but we won't talk about that.
