June 29th, 2010 by Sherry

It was a year ago today that my Burgie was violently taken from me. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him.

April 3rd, 2010 by Sherry

January 30th, 2010 by Sherry

A while back I volunteered to be a photographer for the Niagara Falls Humane society.
By “volunteer” you would think that I just called them up, or stopped by and said “hey, I’m here to help.” and they said, “sweet. come on in and get started.” But such is not the case, which is weird because they were the ones advertising the need in the first place.
I mean, it’s not really more involved than that, other than having to fill out a 2 page resume/questionairre/application thing, needing 2 letters of reference and a face to face interview. But, that didn’t scare me away and now I get to frolic and take pictures of adorable little furry things. Seriously, what’s better than playing with puppies and kitties, and people requesting that you annoyingly snap as many pictures as humanly possible?
It’s a good gig, and I’m digging it so far.
Meet some of my new friends:

You know, you would think these little ingrates would be somewhat humble, trying to put on a show for visitors to the shelter, be all, “heeeeey, pick me because I’m the most awesome kitteh out there, and ain’t no better” because, there’s competition, man. It’s do or die to break out of that place, con some unsuspecting family into taking you home, loving you, letting you sit on their face while they’re snuggled up at night in their beds sound asleep. Those cats don’t have me fooled. I know they’re devious. Why, just look at this face, the face of pure evil, I tell you:

Right??!!
Some of those little brats even get all cocky and think they know it all. Look at this one, demanding my camera, thinking he can do a better job than I can:

And then there’s the shifty ones. The smart ones. The cunning little buggers that plot and scheme and take advantage of unsuspecting innocents. The ones that will stop at nothing to break out, even if it means smuggling themselves out:

Taking any means necessary, even the suffocation of smelly feet, to jail break:

I thought this gig was going to be difficult, what with the abandonment, the malnutrition, the heart break, and loneliness. Pssh. How can you possibly feel sorry for these little con artists when, with one look, you can see right through them?

That’s right kitties, you’re not fooling me with your bright eyes and loud purring motors and apparent need to only want to be loved and give love in return. I’m on to you.

January 11th, 2010 by Sherry

I started my morning taking Peas to the vet. He had to go in between 8:30 and 9am for blood work, in preparation to get his berry removal on Friday. Poor Peas, losing the berries to his twig. Yaay for me, though, I’m tired of stepping in pee.
What they don’t tell you, when you make the appointment, is that everyone else’s dog is going to be there between that time, too. Peas doesn’t do well with other dogs. He’s cool with our Jojo, but other than she, all bets are off. He goes right rammy. Barks up a storm. When they come to say hello he backs up and runs away, still barking like he’s some big tough guy. He’s a tiny dog, but he doesn’t really have that tiny dog yelp. His freakin’ barking is LOUD.
Anyway.
We were on our way home and going down the busy street that we live on, when I noticed a big fat bunny chillin’ on the side of the road by the snow bank. Now, either this bunneh was super bored and just hanging out watching cars go by, or he’d been hit by a car. Either way, not a safe scenario.
I raced up a few blocks, took Peas home, changed my clothes and headed back out the door, intent on checking to see if I could help little Bugs Bunneh, not having a clue how, but intent to try.
As I pulled up to the stop sign, I checked on oncoming traffic just in time to see a snow plow coming, shovel down, clearing the snow bank off the road.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed and slammed my foot down on the gas.
I ripped into the street, sped off towards the bunny, pulled over in between him and the snow plow, popped on my hazard lights and jumped out of my suv. Here’s me, right in the friggin’ middle of 9am traffic, waving my arms frantically and standing in front of the moving snow plow, like a mad woman.
Snow plow guy: “What in the hell?”
Me: “There’s a rabbit on the side of the road, that has been hit by a car, and you’re about to kill him.”
SPG: “I wouldn’t even have seen him.”
Me: “I know, that’s why I stopped you. Can you go around me?”
SPG: “I can’t go off into oncoming traffic. You’re going to have to move.”
Me: “I’m not letting you plow that poor thing into the ditch.”
SPG: “I’ll go around him. I won’t hurt him.”
Me: “You promise? Because I’m not moving until you promise.”
Now keep in mind, I’m standing in the middle of the road, in front of a snow plow that’s the size of a house, blocking morning rush hour traffic that is now, at least, 10 cars deep behind him.
SPG: “I promise.”
I got in the suv, reluctantly drove around the injured bunny, and parked in the nearest driveway while I watched the most awesome snow ploy guy ever pick up the plow shovel, veer a tad to the left, and stay out of bunny harms way. I waved to him as he passed me, and although I was half expecting a finger gesture, he simply smiled and was probably thinking that I was the most batshit insane person that he’s ever met in his life. And he could be right.
I went back to park in my original spot, shielding the bunny from oncoming traffic, and called the SPCA to see if they would come and pick him up. The whole time, the furry little creature tried with all his might to get up and get to safety, but he just couldn’t get the back half of his body to cooperate. I talked to him through my windshield, told him to stay put and wait patiently and help would be here soon, but only to make myself feel better.
After what seemed like hours, and was only minutes, the SPCA officer arrived. She came over and scooped up little rabbit foo foo, his bum and legs going limp in a skinned, bloody pile, and gently placed him in a cage. And, like the total moron that I am, I cried. I thanked her while she took my information, told her the story of the snow plow, and signed for my furry friend as an abandoned animal. I thought this to be very odd. It was like he was mine, and I signed him away.
I fought the urge all day to call the SPCA and see if he could be saved. I wanted to live in my Disney Movie imagination and pretend that he wasn’t as hurt as we thought, and would be rehabilitated. The truth is, he’s a wild bunny, badly injured and was likely put down the minute they got to the shelter. And honestly, that was my hope for the little creature. I couldn’t leave him laying there on the side of the road to die a long, painful death in freezing cold temperatures.
I sure as hell couldn’t imagine this poor little bugger, who was just hit by a car, being scooped up by a large steel shovel and his broken body being propelled into a snowy ditch.
So yes, I might be crazy, but I have a huge heart. Let’s hope it doesn’t get me killed one day, huh?