Moo and Loaf at the Vet

The other night, I took one of our cats to the vet for a recheck on her ear infection. The waiting room is very small with only a 6 foot long padded bench to sit on. The rest is standing room or there are 2 benches outside - it was aboaut 500 degrees with 1000% humidity that day. I come in and immediately notice that sprawled out on the bench is a moo and a gigantic carseat with a loaf in it. No room for anyone else. Very nice. I walk over and check in, they were taking me right away so the bitch hogging up the bench didn't bother me TOO much. The room we were put in was just across from the waiting area. A woman came in with her dog, checked in and went back to sit - only there was no room. The dog sniffed the BAYBEE as that's what dogs do and the moo got all huffy and pissed about it. "Can you keep that dog away from my baby please?" The women didn't answer and said - in a pleasant tone, "Well, this is a vet's office, say, could you please skootch down a bit so I can sit here?" To which bitch-ass moo replied, "I don't want that dog near my baby." My blood was boiling at this point so I poked my head out the door and said to the receptionist, whom I know very well, "You better go play referee over there."

In the end, bitch had to move her car seat down so the other woman could sit, but pissed and moaned every time the dog made a move.

What's up with these fucking breeders thinking that they can take over every inch of space with their loaves and paraphernalia and no one is supposed to get upset over it? AND to bitch that she didn't want the dog near the baby? WTF? Um, it IS a veterinary office, you stupid cunt!

Again, they want provisions made, accomodations, and everything else, just for them because they are doing (or so they think) TMIJITW

What a bitch! I am assuming that since she's at the vet, there is (or was) a pet in the family, and one would think that she could deal with an animal merely sniffing at her and her sproggen. I guess though, when you're an entitlemoo asshole who thinks the world is there simply to make you happy......

What a sickening cunt, KFLL! If you go to a vet's office, chances are there'll be dogs there - duh. I effin hate breeders who act as if their fucktrophies are made of a combo of gold and glass.

If she was so worried about the loaf, she should've left it at home.

I had to take my new kitten to the vet yesterday. I swear, the vet's office is THE PLACE for entitlemoos, these days. So, I'm sitting there with my sister and Wesley (the kitty), just waiting my turn. In walks a woman with her teenage daughter, and a little girl who looks about two. We started talking, and soon find out that they are serial breeders, supplementing their welfare. I kinda had the idea that they were ghetto people, but didn't want to judge them. They seemed nice enough.

I was wrong.

Any animals they couldn't sell, they turned loose on the neighborhood. The little girl actually belonged to the teen, who was pregnant, again. She was about sixteen. They kept going on about how they really need the money for the new baby, but doubt that this litter will get them through. Hopefully, they'll have another litter before the girl is due to give birth.

Now, I'm trying to keep a neutral expression. But, these folks were pissing me off. I took in this kitten because it needed a home. My nephew found him hiding under their air conditioner, dehydrated, hungry and scared. If he hadn't found Wesley, and called me, he would have died.

I hate people like this. Entitlement at it's worst...

Aw, sprogless. Wesley the kitten. How precious. Blessings to you and your new family member.

Thanks!

As soon as I get his Catster page done, I'll post a link.

And you know what? They were probably getting their dog put down because they were afraid that their functioning-genitals-evidence would get huuuuurrrrt.

The fucking blonde sprog is the one who should be put to sleep. One of the reasons I'm CF is that if had a kid, and saw it hurting animals, I'd knock the little POS into the NEXT millennium! Cats over brats, dogs over sprogs ANY DAY!

Since my lymphoma last year, and with my new promotion (first female VP at my company--took them damn long enough!), my travel schedule is considerably lighter than the past. I am going to a no-kill shelter to adopt a furball this weekend. My previous buddy, a cat named Blakely (after a dear personal friend), was so laid back that he was almost comatose. I want the new furball to have a little more energy and pep. I miss Blakely, and I am looking forward to finding a suitable new companion now that I have this lovely back yard!

:bal Congrats on your promotion, CFBfromLA!!!!

I hope you find a nice animal since you miss Blakely. I had to give up a bunny when I left my soon-to-be ex-husband and miss the rabbit a lot. It is not practical to have a bunny in the house right now so I just look at the sweet bunnies when I go to the pet store for the cat and dog stuff...

Here's something that was sent to me by a friend today:

How Could You?

By Jim Willis, 2001
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love. As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.

At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?".

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself --a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

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A Note from the Author:
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If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.

Jim Willis

its been posted before under the patio, and discussed. ad nauseam

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I just post the stories, for interest.. for everyone

Lord, what fools these mortals be!
- A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act III, Scene ii

Voltaire said: "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."

H.L.Mencken wrote:"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.”

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. Albert Einstein

Sprogless, I would have left that office and called the SPCA or Humane Society on them and reported their dumb, lazy asses.

Then just for fun, I'd have anonymously called Child Services and reported them, say something to the effect of, "I saw these people abusing this poor toddler in their car in the parking lot, really smacking her around, their license number is XXXXX"