But you won't get to see the tears I cry
behind these hazel eyes
Ha! I managed to get a Kelly Clarkson quote on here. So the 13 year old girl living inside me had a minute to get her groove on. Alas, I digress.
So get ready to point at me and call me a p*ssy. Go ahead, because alpha male I am not. Yesterday, my girlfriend decided for some reason it would be a good idea to go to the Humane Society. I tried to warn her it was a BAD idea. First off, neither of us have the resources to get a pet right now and for a second more important reason, I hate going there. It is truly one of the most depressing things in the world. Everybody hates a tourist and going there just to ogle the animals ranks right behind unmediated dental work on my list of favorite past times.
So we go in and the faucet kicked in almost right away. The first thing I noticed was a LOT of kittens. They were all cute and cuddly, BUT there is absolutely no way every one of them would find a home. What broke my heart even more were the older cats that were there. One in particular was obviously over 10 years old. If all those kittens were not going to get adopted in time, there’s no way this cat was finding a home. The tears were really going now.
Then we made our way to the dogs. For the most part, the dogs were the large, scary mutt variety that rednecks tend to own. Chances are these poor dogs were wondering around without a collar since their inbred owners saw no need to keep them close to home or at the very least give them some identifying tags. So they were nabbed and here they are at the shelter. As I walked down the hall looking at each of there faces, I wondered how many of them would remain here until their inevitable ending. I made a point to read the name tags on each of their cages. For some reason, I wanted to know their names. It was important to me that each of them had names and were not just some random dog. Then I got to the end and saw Buddy. Buddy looked something like the scruffy dog from “Married with Children” although far more colorful. His face bore the look of someone who once spent all day in the yard playing with his friends. I wondered what Buddy’s sin was that landed him on death row. My guess is the kids he use to play with outgrew him, because, without speaking a word, Buddy asked me if I had a ball.
At that point I had to go. I left so disgusted with the people who abandoned these animals. I wondered if they ever cared for them or if these pets were simply just another inconvenience to them and they rationalized that surely “somebody” would adopt them. I vowed never to visit the Human Society again unless I was brining someone home with me. It seemed so cruel to look at all these creatures and know that their chance of survival hinged on the right person coming at the right time. For the old cats and the big mutts, that chance seemed to exist more in the category of “miracle.” I also knew that, despite my desire to have one, not getting a pet the last few years was the smartest thing I have done. If you can not provide a loving home life and handle the responsibility of pet ownership, then do you and your potential best friend a favor and let someone else raise them.
behind these hazel eyes
Ha! I managed to get a Kelly Clarkson quote on here. So the 13 year old girl living inside me had a minute to get her groove on. Alas, I digress.
So get ready to point at me and call me a p*ssy. Go ahead, because alpha male I am not. Yesterday, my girlfriend decided for some reason it would be a good idea to go to the Humane Society. I tried to warn her it was a BAD idea. First off, neither of us have the resources to get a pet right now and for a second more important reason, I hate going there. It is truly one of the most depressing things in the world. Everybody hates a tourist and going there just to ogle the animals ranks right behind unmediated dental work on my list of favorite past times.
So we go in and the faucet kicked in almost right away. The first thing I noticed was a LOT of kittens. They were all cute and cuddly, BUT there is absolutely no way every one of them would find a home. What broke my heart even more were the older cats that were there. One in particular was obviously over 10 years old. If all those kittens were not going to get adopted in time, there’s no way this cat was finding a home. The tears were really going now.
Then we made our way to the dogs. For the most part, the dogs were the large, scary mutt variety that rednecks tend to own. Chances are these poor dogs were wondering around without a collar since their inbred owners saw no need to keep them close to home or at the very least give them some identifying tags. So they were nabbed and here they are at the shelter. As I walked down the hall looking at each of there faces, I wondered how many of them would remain here until their inevitable ending. I made a point to read the name tags on each of their cages. For some reason, I wanted to know their names. It was important to me that each of them had names and were not just some random dog. Then I got to the end and saw Buddy. Buddy looked something like the scruffy dog from “Married with Children” although far more colorful. His face bore the look of someone who once spent all day in the yard playing with his friends. I wondered what Buddy’s sin was that landed him on death row. My guess is the kids he use to play with outgrew him, because, without speaking a word, Buddy asked me if I had a ball.
At that point I had to go. I left so disgusted with the people who abandoned these animals. I wondered if they ever cared for them or if these pets were simply just another inconvenience to them and they rationalized that surely “somebody” would adopt them. I vowed never to visit the Human Society again unless I was brining someone home with me. It seemed so cruel to look at all these creatures and know that their chance of survival hinged on the right person coming at the right time. For the old cats and the big mutts, that chance seemed to exist more in the category of “miracle.” I also knew that, despite my desire to have one, not getting a pet the last few years was the smartest thing I have done. If you can not provide a loving home life and handle the responsibility of pet ownership, then do you and your potential best friend a favor and let someone else raise them.
1 Comments:
When I was about 7 my mother took me to the dog pound near our house. We were looking at the group of puppies and I was happily sticking my finger in the cage and letting them lick me. Then one of the "wardens" came by and asked if we were gonna take any of them. We said no, so he opened up the cage, pulled them all out and took them to the back room. Later my mother explained the "time limit".
I hate them with a bloddy passion.
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