Never Give Up On You

I follow lots of animal people on Twitter. Yes, I am one of those hopeless twitterers, reading each and every tweet on my timeline. I tweet and reply to several people each and every day, and for the most part it's a chance to learn a little about the world outside of my own.

But today, as I watched my timeline, I saw a set of tweets form like a stream of consciousness from a volunteer who worked with dogs and horses. It mesmerized and moved me all at once, and I wanted to share it with everyone who tries to help animals. I have compiled his tweets here mostly unedited, his raggedness and rush to get the words out left intact. I took the title from one of his lines. It is one of the most poignant things I have read in a long time.

- hoomin

* * * * *

never give up on you

thinking about being a kid again and
remembering lassie on tv i cried every
time lassie got lost or hurt every damn
week after week mom would say its ok
she will be ok lassies not going to die
and not me never believed her nope
its this week alright never get out of the
well this time but lassie always did
somebody would save her or she would
save the baby deer from the hunters but
where i vol not all the dogs and cats get rescued
no one comes and saves them they sit in their
cages and wait for their hero to come they
get tired and sleep a lot and maybe they
bark a bit 2 much or they jump up and go
nuts when they see a possible hero they just
sit there and not move growl at being woke up
or just get old and tired dont play much anymore
eyes get clouded over and well dont look
anymore 4 a hero then they are a burden
they cost money the pills cost to much
honey what if it needs a operation? we dont
have the cash where would he go here
look over here a cute PUPPY! awwwwww
a baby doggy see it loves you you can grow up
with her shes your baby dog what u say honey
yesss i want a puppie lets take her and the
paper work is done the shot given the little scarf
is on her neck and away they go by clover
the old dogs just look out the cage and maybe
settledown and sleep thinking purhaps
good luck youngster! or see ya soon kid
both maybe the right answer who knows?
the only thing that i know is that there are
more coming in old sick injured but mentally
and in body and the puppies turn into dogs
and old dogs pass on the cycle is always continuing
mommy daddy i want a puppy! look the kids
in the white house has a new kind of dog
its a water dog mommy it can swim in my pool
with me! i want a puppy please
learn from past mistakes animals are not
disposible trash something to fill a need
and then out grow help kill shelters look at
their dogs and cats you might find a good friend
help the humane shelters they keep the dogs till
death if they need 2 and will take a dog back
to rehome if they need 2 but please please
remember animals are living beings next to
infants the most helpless of beings they come
to you and they bond fast and never give up on
you no matter what they are open 4 love
24-7 365 till the end you owe them at least that
adopt yes but responsibly thats what i am trying
to do myself and you know i cant i am only
one person and sometimes it overcomes me
and i get stuck unable to move and i fail them also
and it cuts 2 the bone please pray 4 me and all
who work in this field either staff or volunteers
thats what i am doing ...... i work in human med
i work eves and at 60 and been through all the
things of my past my body is beat when i get home
i have to take care of my wife and blind poodle
a real love both wife and dog lol then 2 bed
at maybe 3am then up back to work psych
is not easy floor 2 work as is any at this time
so i am beat when i get to my dogs or horses
some people come and stay all day like they
live there me i am running here or there feel like
i cant make a connection with myself and the
animals either yes been told that by a few here
i guess we are all on a path that is very twisted
i have done a lot of helping 4 people and will
keep on doing so but there is something
missing in my heart a meaning a true passion
i just dont want to miss it...

rjwequine1
http://twitter.com/rjwequine1
posted on Twitter, May 31st, 2009

* * * * *

The Chair

I am up early at my house. I loved getting up and having the house to myself for a few hours, even though I don't get to do that as much now. My guys liked it too, with me letting them out early in the morning shortly after I got up. I have a ritual of getting them fresh water in their water bowl (which they needed - how it got so disgusting, I have no idea) and fresh food in the food bowl (which they don't need, because it's the same stuff they throw in their water to make it disgusting). It got to the point that they expected to be let out at an obscenely early time each and every morning. But it was me and them, and whattaya gonna do, let 'em sit there?

They would hear me get up and be instantly awake. As I stumbled past them to the bathroom I would pass a wall of weasels looking at me, each one waiting for me to open the cage door. Hey, can I... uh, ya know, give me a minute? Scooter is one of my older guys, although I don't really know how old he is. He isn't solid muscle like the others, having previous health problems, and does not move as easily as the others. I have other, older guys too - Jackson and Rascal, but it is Scooter who is standing on his back feet waiting for the cage door to open and the ramp to come up. And even before I hook the ramp to the side, he is walking down it, ready or not. Geez, can't you wait till I hook the damn thing, you crazy weasel? He has sometimes even jumped seven or so inches from the bottom of the cage to the floor, snubbing my efforts to get the ramp attached quickly enough. But he is always, and I mean out of *all* of them, *always* the first one out. I get it. I am a man of ritual, myself, being the first one up. It makes me smile and feel good somehow. I tell myself (without any logic really attached to it) that if Scooter's the first one out, everything is going to be OK. He's happy, he's healthy, it's gotta be a good day. It is usually my first smile.

Roscoe and Stewart are two youngsters we got from someone who couldn't/didn't/wouldn't take-your-pick-story-of-your-own-creation. I don't even want to think about it. Twittering with lots of people trying to save animals, and hearing first-hand the reasons people give for surrendering their animals, has made me a little less tolerant. I never really asked my wife what the story was, as I was reluctant to take them in as we already had nine. But they were here, and like I said before - whattaya gonna do? And, to my blessing, they have been the joy of my mornings.

These two were little fat boys when they first arrived. Roscoe was huge, and often (what do I mean, "often?") *always* slept on his back because he was so big. Stewart had his baby fat, too, but not like Roscoe. Roscoe cracked me up one time when he crawled up on a pillow on a shelf that was completely out in the open (not like weasels usually sleep), again sleeping on his back. The way he was just laying there, arms folded - King Roscoe asleep on his throne. That was a nice wide smile that morning, I think even a chuckle or two.

But it is both Stewie and Roscoe who make me laugh out loud. And cuss out loud, sometimes. I have to remember to close the door to my room. I usually have water or coffee or something left from the night before sitting on my table next to my chair. The Chair. If I forget and get them water (or myself coffee) without closing the door - it is inevitable. I will remember too late and rush to the door to see the flash-flooding of the invisible arroyo that runs underneath my chair. Why do I leave my drink there at all, you wonder? I have to keep my door closed because Stewie has found his only purpose in life - to get underneath my chair and tear out it's bottom. I don't care about the chair, but I'm worried the fibers he could ingest could give him a blockage, and the little bugger just won't stop. So I keep my door closed. Leaving *my* drink on *my* table shouldn't be a problem for me. Stupid hoomin. Getting through that door to The Chair is all Stewie lives for. Whattaya think they mean when they say "ferreted out?"

I try to run it out of him. Roscoe and Stewie love to play, and play longer than any of the others do, if the others play at all. Sometimes I wardance with them. I will run up on them while they are backing up, then stop. Roscoe likes to take off when I do that, but Stewie sees it as his challenge, and even though I'm taller than he can jump, he jumps at me anyways. I will spin around him (watching my feet) and he will spin with me. Meanwhile, Roscoe will sneak up behind and attack, and we will all wardance together. I find myself laughing out loud, giggling like a kid... no one up, mind you, just me and them. It is usually the second smile of my morning. Eventually we will tire of this game (OK, they don't tire of it...) and one of us will concede just so he can make himself coffee and sit down. Behind the closed door. In The Chair.

I have to close my door the whole way now, even though if I just nudge it closed they don't have the strength to push it open. But they don't know that. Or they pretend they don't know that. An open door of any kind is an opportunity. And they will stand on their hind legs and dig at the wood. Or they will dig at the carpet (which is *already* shot to heck), but they will dig until they see me completely close the door the entire way. Somehow, that's a signal for them to give up. And being the wiley creatures they are, they *act* like they're giving up and abandon the door, usually to go wardance on top of the missus - lazy thing - who's still in bed trying to sleep. That's usually my third chuckle of the morning. "I'm sorry honey, I forgot to close your door." Yeah, sure I did. "Hey, I made coffee, whattaya want?"..

And I will be standing in the living room - bedroom containing an aggravated missus on one end, my room on the other - and it will go silent. Most of them will have either eaten or wardanced themselves into a slumber and found a place to nap, but not all of them... Stewie runs reconnaissance under the TV by my door, quietly waiting for it to open so he can get to The Chair. He thinks I don't see him, but I do. It's either that, or he really doesn't care if I see him or not. That's probably closer to the truth. But he will wait for me to come by, nose sticking out from under the TV, and try to rush the door. I can for the most part beat him in a rush, although sometimes he slips in. Damn weasel, you know I'm just going to pick you up, put you outside the door, and that's that. Why do you even try? Well, listen to me scolding a ferret for being persistent. I'm a genius.

But Stewie is the embodiment of the word "persistent." He will continue his reconnaissance until I am not paying attention and I unwittingly leave the door open. He is *good*. Sometimes the first sign I have that he's infiltrated my room is to feel a poking at my backside from underneath the chair. I couldn't ignore it if I wanted to. You pain-in-the-butt, why do you do this? You must know that I can feel you poking me, right? OK, so you're not a genius, either...

Just as I'd gotten comfortable with a coffee at my side, I have to get *up* out of the chair, tilt the chair on it's front legs, slide it forward, and retrieve the invader. And it's always the same - always a surprise to him. As I lift the chair up, I find him crouched as if he were still lowering himself to fit under the chair. You or I would realize that we were caught and stand up, but he just stays crouched, feet splayed, surprised as I would be if God were to lift up the sky like a blanket, look down on me, and pick me up. And even though this has happened a hundred times, he is always just as surprised.

So I take him to the living room and give him the obligatory toss onto the couch. This is his reset button. Immediately upon landing on the couch, he does a short wardance (I think just to mock me), climbs to the top of the couch, looks back, dives over, and slinks down - usually not to be seen again until I lift up The Chair. And we do this over and over again. This is our routine - fresh water, kibble, coffee, wardancing, and The Chair. I could go do something else in the morning, I suppose, but I'm kinda happy the way it is. Just like Scooter needs to be first one out of the cage in the morning, I need my smiles and my giggles. I need Roscoe's professionally improvised comic relief. But most of all, I need what Stewie gives me.

Some would describe Stewie's nature as determined and tenacious, and they would be quite right in their description of this second cousin to the wolverine. Or one could describe him as persistent and stubborn, but those are not the exact words I would use. There is another, better word that describes what goes on in our early morning battle for The Chair. It is what we all look for, without knowing that we're looking for it, sometimes...

Hope.

Shots of Beautte

Took some shots of Beautte today. Saw a ferret on Twitter that looked just like her. Motivated me to get out my Sony and get some shots. It was not easy because older digital cameras are slow. By the time it auto-focuses, the shot is gone... argh..




I Finally learned how to get a decent shot - used the burst and one of 'em was bound to be good ;) Below, I used Paint Shop Pro to do a nice effect on one of the pictures, and I also sized it and reformatted it to bitmap so I could use it on my Roland Fantom G7's display (800 x 480 24bit bitmap).

Maren's Dilemma

I will get up early tomorrow morning and go to work. I will immerse myself into my job as a manager of a local fast food chain, and I will be busy. My day goes by quickly and it is a blessing at times. But when a place is busy mistakes are made, and we will be making our share. At some point, I will have to deal with someone who didn't want pickles on their burger. There will be nothing wrong with their burger, really. Not raw, no hair - just a burger with pickles on it. And instead of simply picking off the pickles and eating the damn thing, they will come over to me and demand a new one. Oh, and because we are customer service oriented, I will *give* them a new one and take the bag they hand me containing the old burger and throw it dutifully in the trash. Nothing wrong with it, mind you. Just not what they wanted. They might have even made the mistake themselves when ordering, but it would not matter - I would still have to do the same thing. The customer is always right, they pay the bills, and we will throw away perfectly good food to keep in the game.

Maren will be going to work tomorrow, too. She will immerse herself in the task she has taken on, and she will be busy. Her day will go by too quickly, but it will be no blessing. She might place some, but more will be taken in than placed. She will do her best to see that her rescues are taken care of, but most will not be placed, and some will get sick, and other things will go wrong. Someone will show up with a ferret they can no longer keep, and it won't matter whether the reason is real or inane, she will take it. There might be nothing wrong with the ferret at all, other than it costs money to feed and time to care for. Nope. It will just be a ferret. And instead of taking the time they *meant* to take when got their beloved pet, they will ask her (without asking her) to take the time *for* them. And she will, even if she really can't. Nothing wrong with the ferret, mind you. They just don't want it. And she will feed and water her new rescue, clean it's bedding, and empty the used litter into the trash. It will not matter to her whether these people were truly in need and desperate, or just jerks. Ferrets are the only things that matter to her, and she will pay the bills and smile as they walk away without their ferret.

How did we get to this point? Don't tell me it's the economy. If it's the economy, why in the hell are Marshall Farms and Path Valley making more? Supply and demand? Why would anyone need or want to purchase a ferret from the farms when shelters are overflowing across the country? Why?

It is because of our mentality, the mentality that says don't pick the pickles off your burger, just throw it away and get a new one. It is the mentality that thinks "I want the companionship of a ferret, but if it doesn't 'work out' for whatever reason there are great people with endless time and resources who will take care of it for me." They will not think about the weight they are putting on the backs of the shelters, or of the ferrets who will die waiting for the forever home that they themselves *intended* to provide. Always the good intentions. Instead, they will just do what is good for *them* and they will walk away because they *can*. Oh, yes... Maren could walk away, too... but she won't. And that is where she, and others like her, are truly different.

Marshall and Path will keep the ferret machine running, and even though the ferrets *should* be the most important part of the machine, they are in effect the most expendable. I will go to work tomorrow to feed hungry people and I will throw food away. And none of this, not a bit of it, will make any sense.

I got a twitter tonight from nvferretrunner: "... taking 4 in for ultrasounds tomorrow and two girls are going to sleep. bad day for me." But she will get up in the morning and do it, bad day or no. Maren will get up tomorrow and try to change the laws of time and space just to spend one more minute with one of her rescues. Meanwhile, kits in crates will be shipped from the ferret farms to pet stores near you.

Yes, I will get up and go to work tomorrow. I will try very hard not to glare at the first person who brings back a shake because it's not "strawberry enough." I will force a smile and do my best to hide the pain in my eyes as I remember the two fuzzies from NV who will lose their lives sometime tomorrow while I am working. But my heart will be with them, and I will think of Maren and others like her, desperately trying to figure out what to do.

Bad day for me, too.

Music for Ferrets and Other Divine Beings

I wrote Navi's Song for Nava, an older sable-colored female ferret who was one of my favorites. I was standing in my front doorway trying to lure a stray dog close enough to where I could feed it, and somehow Navi slipped out. She wandered over to the next door neighbor's house where they kept pit bulls. Although we didn't see it, we think one of the pit bulls grabbed her in his mouth and shook her. She was still alive but in shock, and we rushed her to the vet's. The vet on call was a young new vet and he did everything he could to save her, but she just slipped away. Navi was my shining star, and for months I would look up into the night sky and wonder where she was off to. I picture my song as her journey to the Bridge, both sad and mysterious, yet hopeful.

Chase You was written for a fellow ferret owner (Alexandra) who had two ferrets named Ping and Puma. Ping had playfully nipped their dog (The Noble Alice Chompers) as he had done for years, but for whatever reason (Alice was old, arthritic, and in pain) she bit him. Ping died of his injuries, but as tragic as that was it did not end there. Puma, his mate, could not be without him. She literally patrolled the house every day for over a week looking for him, sleeping where she found his scent, and stopped eating until she literally starved herself to death. My friend tried everything, including hand-feeding, but Puma was not interested in food, only in finding her Ping. She was determined above everything else to find her Ping - and sadly she did. Such is the bond of ferrets. I could not get the story out of my head for months. Here are the lyrics:

Chase You

Wherever you go I'll go, too
You chase me and I will chase you
Wherever you go I'll go, too
You chase me and I will chase you

Wherever you go, please take me
I'll chase you, and you can chase me
Wherever you go, please take me
I'll chase you, and you can chase me

I miss you so much every day
I feel the sun on my face
But I just can't play... play without you.

Really don't wanna play
Really don't wanna play
Don't wanna play without you
Really don't wanna play....

Wherever you go I'll go, too
You chase me and I will chase you.

My latest song has a tentative title... The Back Way. I think it is one of my prettiest songs, simple and elegant. You can tell that my music has been influenced by Ottmar Liebert, a nuevo flamenco guitar player from Santa Fe (who is a world renowned musician).

Probably the thing I do best on this planet is write music. I am working on a collection of music called The Bridge. Ferret people (and other animal people) will understand what that is ;) All of my music is done digitally on keyboards (including all guitars, acoustic and electric). I use an old Korg Triton Studio and a newer Roland Fantom G7 and record them digitally to my computer. All tracks were played, programmed and sequenced by me ;)

I hope you like what I do. If you would like to hear future music or tell me what you think, you can leave a comment or easily find me on Twitter as @hoomin.