PETA Sucks

I hate PETA. I haven’t been shy about sharing my feelings about the group that claims to be fighting for the ethical treatment of animals. I base my judgement on a piece written by the president of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, Ingrid Newkirk, as well as an incident that occurred between PETA and a chihuahua named Maya.

In the article, (the link is posted at the bottom of post) Newkirk writes about her support for policies in some shelters across the country to kill “pit bull” type of dogs the moment they walk through the door. There is no getting to know the dog. No temperament testing. Nothing. I don’t believe PETA will even scan for a microchip to find an owner, who may be frantically looking for their lost baby, because PETA doesn’t believe this breed should be pets. They only believe this breed should be dead.

This action doesn’t seem very ethical to me. Newkirk argues that she is doing the dogs a favor by killing them because pit bulls are the most abused breed. She may be right about that. Pit bulls have been, and still are, used in dog fighting. But because pit bulls have been so abused should make people want to take them in and show them love for what could be the first time in their doggie life.

Newkirk goes on to tell stories of people who have been hurt by pit bulls. I believe people have because I know someone who has been hurt by a pit bull. I also know someone who has been hurt by a St. Bernard, another person by a Rottweiler, someone else by a Boxer, and another by a Labrador.

No one will say to ban the entire breed because of those attacks, but if the incident involves a pit, then the entire breed gets blamed. Discriminate much?

I have a pit mix so stories like these are personal to me. No one can tell me pit bulls can’t make great dogs. I live with one, and the shelter I volunteer at makes sure to take in a set amount of bully breeds, as well as special needs dogs. There are currently five pit bull mixes in my shelter that houses twenty dogs.

Those pits will get all the time they need to get adopted. One pit has been thee for six months and the other, eight months. They are terrific dogs that love people, but the stigma that is attached to this breed seems to keep people away. Luckily, my shelter is no–kill so those dogs don’t have to worry about time.

But that isn’t the case in most shelters. These dogs have a time-clock on them and people like Newkirk aren’t helping their case at all. There is nothing ethical about an animal rights group supporting the killing of an animal just because of the way it looks.

No surprise that PETA also supports Breed Specific Legislation, which can ban certain breeds from cities and apartments and homeowner’s associations. PETA is working for legislation that will ban pit bulls everywhere. They truly want this breed dead.

I hope people will stop donating to this awful group so that one day PETA will be dead. No more. Gone. We don’t need them.

If you want to help animals, donate to your local shelter. They need the money more and are most likely saving more animals than PETA. It seems PETA kills more than just pit bulls. According to The Center for Consumer Freedom, PETA killed 72% of dogs and cats that came through to their shelter in Virginia. Per this article, that is 16.3 times higher than other shelters in the state.

Reputable animal groups usually do their best to keep their kill rate as low as it can be. Not PETA. The group recently paid a family $49,000 for killing its Chihuahua, Maya. You can watch the video on YouTube of PETA workers luring the tiny dog into its van and records show that PETA killed the dog five hours later. PETA was so excited and anxious to kill that dog, they didn’t even wait the mandatory five day stray hold.

It is sick that a supposed animal rights group loves to kill animals so much, but they do. I was horrified when I saw PETA’s white vans enter Texas for the hurricane. Those dogs had a better chance against Harvey than they did against PETA. Rest in Peace, sweet babies.

Let’s work to put an end to this sick group.

 

My Phil, enjoying cuddle time. He deserves to live. All those dogs that PETA kills do.

 

Just a few pit bulls that were lucky to have come through my shelter, and not PETA, who have been adopted. Beautiful babies.

 

 

http://www.sfgate.com/opinion/openforum/article/Controlling-an-animal-as-deadly-as-a-weapon-2629558.php

Advertisements

Love Dogs? Then Boycott China

My Twitter feed has blown up with tweets about the upcoming horrendous Yulin Dog Meat Festival that is set to take place on the summer solstice. If you don’t know about this barbaric festival, take a moment to Google it, and then do what you can to raise awareness. Tweet, donate, share on social media. I have signed petitions and tweeted up a storm against last year’s festival, but the festivities went on, and over 10,000 dogs and cats were stolen from streets and backyards to become someone’s meal in the most brutal way.

It is utterly disgusting. I don’t think that tweeting and signing petitions are enough. Short of flying to China myself and rescuing as many dogs as I can, the only thing I can think to do from here is to boycott everything that is China.

How hard would it be to boycott Chinese products? I don’t know because I’ve never tried it before, but I’m bracing myself for a huge challenge.  A call to boycott “Made in China” isn’t new. Most likely everyone’s heard that cry before. I do try to be a conscientious consumer (although I really hate referring to people as consumers, because we are so much more than consuming maniacs, at least we should be, but I will call myself a consumer in this case), especially when it comes to the food I buy.

I am not an over-shopper. I hate shopping. Usually something has to break before I consider replacing it. I finally bought a new phone last month after three years with my old one, a Motorola that most likely was made in China, by a six year old, even though Motorola is an American company. (Yeah, this boycott’s gonna be tough.) It’s not that I suddenly got sick of my old phone. It lasted a long time, especially considering that I didn’t buy it new. The thing just suddenly stopped sending texts, and probably receiving them, too. 

When I told a friend about my plan to boycott all that is China, he informed me that if I shop at Walmart that it would be impossible to find anything that isn’t made in China in that store. Luckily, I don’t shop at Walmart. I can probably count on both hands the amount of times I have stepped into that store in my life. I stay away because of what I believe are unfair employment practices.

Since I won’t even buy food for my dog that was made in China, because of the many recalls pertaining to food and treats for dogs in recent years that were made in the country, steering away from food made in China shouldn’t be difficult at all.

However, it is my plan in the next few months to buy a new computer. And this is where the Chinese boycott may prove difficult. The desktop I am currently working on is eight years old, and, like my phone, I believe that too was bought refurbished. I would have to call an ex-girlfriend if I really want to confirm this, because she’s the one who bought the computer for me, but the specifics aren’t that important to me. I won’t be making any phone calls to her anytime soon. So, the question is, can I find a computer that isn’t made in China? I’ll soon find out.

I also need a new desk chair because the one I just threw out was, no kidding, twenty-one years old. I did not buy that new either. I didn’t buy it at all, actually. The chair was given to me by my sister’s boyfriend at the time. I was looking for a chair and he had one he wasn’t using. It was a comfortable chair. A lot more comfortable than the temporary seat I am sitting in right now. Will I find a comfy desk chair that isn’t made in China? Again, I’ll soon find out.

In the much more distant future, I will hopefully be looking to purchase a new car NOT made in China, rather America, preferably. I am currently driving a ten-year old Dodge. Knock on wood, the car’s been good to me. And I’ve been happy with it. Like my old phone, my computer, and my old chair, the car, too, was not bought new. This lack of “newness” in my life never occurred to me until now. I guess I just don’t need “shiny and new” all the time.

I like broken-in. Worn. Reliable. Experienced.

I am starting my boycott on all Chinese products today. I know the country won’t feel my sole boycott in the slightest, and children and women will still be forced to work long hours at slave wages in deplorable conditions. And, most likely, the horrific Yulin Dog Meat Festival will still go on this year.

But at least I will no longer be contributing to a country’s barbarities.

I’m through with you China.

 

 

made-in-china-boycott

 

Photo is public domain.

 

Don’t Bully My Breed

I got into an argument today with a stranger on Twitter about BSL – Breed Specific Legislation. BSL is legislation cities can pass directly targeting a specific breed of dog. Some ordinances completely ban a breed from an entire city (Denver and Miami has done this).

The person I was exchanging words with was in support of banning pit bulls (which technically isn’t a breed).  “Pit Bull” is commonly used as an umbrella term for dogs with boxy-shaped heads, are stocky, appear strong in stature, and, of course, look “mean.” The term “pit bull” generally covers a few types of breeds: American Pit Bull Terrier, American Staffordshire, Staffordshire Bull Terrier, American Bulldog, and Bull Terrier.

If found as strays, or rescued from abusive and neglectful situations, these dogs will be categorized as “pit bulls” and with it, in some situations, a death sentence will be imposed upon them because not many people, it seems, are willing to bring home a dog labelled “pit bull.” Most of these dogs will never leave the shelter they are dropped off at alive. 

BSL is another obstacle these already abused and misunderstood dogs have to endure when trying to find a home. At the local shelter I volunteer at  there was a pit/lab mix named Sable. She was a loving dog who wanted nothing more than to have her belly rubbed and to play with a hose. A family wanted to take her home, but found out their home association didn’t allow pit bulls. Sable would have to wait nine more months before she would finally leave the shelter.

But while she was there, I’d hear other volunteers ask, as they’d pet Sable through the cage with her body pressed against the bars, savoring the attention, “Why are you still here? You’re so adorable. Why are you still here?”

I remember wanting to yell, “Because she’s a fucking pit bull! And people are afraid of pit bulls no matter how sweet they are!”

Of course, I didn’t yell that. I didn’t say anything. I walked away, pissed that there is yet one more obstacle these poor dogs have to fight to find a home. Sable was forced to spend her days in a kennel instead of a home because of BSL. And that isn’t fair or right.

I was arguing with this person on Twitter that BSL kills pit bulls because it makes it harder for them to find homes. When pit bulls don’t find homes, they die. My shelter is a no kill-shelter, but if it wasn’t, Sable would have been put-down. Killed. And she deserved to live. They all do. Thankfully, Sable did find a home, but most are not so lucky.

To me, BSL is straight-up discrimination. We are blaming not just one breed of dog for the aggressive actions of a few dogs, who were made to be mean, but five breeds. How can that be right? I’m always leery of media reports of pit bull attacks because how do they know for sure it was a pit bull? Since “pit bull” is already categorized to include five breeds, throw in mixes, and it’s nearly impossible to know for sure the exact breed of dog.

The probability is that the media doesn’t know for sure the dog is a pit bull. But that doesn’t stop the headlines that target pit bulls, because those headlines sell newspapers. Those headlines get people’s attention more than “Some Type of Mix Dog Attacks Man on Train!”

I think pet owners should be held accountable for what their animals do. A dog doesn’t just maul a person out of the blue. There are signs of aggression before that happens, and I’d bet everything I have that it was the owners who made those dogs that way.

I adopted a pit bull mix. I didn’t have to train him to be the sweetheart that he is. He came to me that way. Dogs labelled “pit bulls” are not born mean. They are loving dogs who deserve to live. They deserve homes.

If the town you live in is considering BSL or currently has BSL, please do all you can to stop or end it.  It is wrong. And it kills. These dogs need more people to advocate for them. They don’t need any more adversaries. They already have enough of those.  If you can, adopt a pit. Give a “pit bull” a chance. I can say from experience that you won’t be sorry.

 

Sable, the chocolate lab/pit mix and my baby, Phil. Two “pit bulls” who found loving homes. I wish they all do.

This is Me Finally Doing Something

I talk about dogs…a lot. And I write about dogs…a lot.

If you follow my blog at all, you probably already know this. It wasn’t my intention to use so much space penning about my favorite animal, but these things happen. I write about what I love.

Ever since adopting my Lab/Pit mix, Phil, five years ago, I’ve gotten more involved with animals than I ever had before, or ever imagined myself to be. I volunteer at an animal shelter, spending as much extra time with the dogs, outside of my regular shift, as I can.

I protest regularly with an organization against pet stores selling puppies that come from puppy mills, which are most, if not all, pet stores. With this group, I have also sat in on town meetings to support a ban against the sale of puppy-mill puppies, and I’ve emailed numerous politicians pleading for such a ban.

I’ve taken my stance. I’ve lent my voice to a cause I believe in. Whether it be through emails, signs in my hands, or by my mere presence, my voice has been spoken, but whether it’s been heard? I don’t know.

But I won’t stop.

I don’t state this to show how wonderful I am. I’m not wonderful. Trust me. I’m a terrifically-flawed person. A Deeply, terrifically-flawed person. I write this because I don’t know where all this fight came from. I didn’t grow up in a household of activists. Neither of my parents had staunch political beliefs. We just lived our lives in a quiet suburb, where the word “protest” was never uttered.

But then, decades later, I adopted a pit-bull mix, and everything changed.

Even though having a pet isn’t new to me, this time around it was different. Growing up we had a cherished family dog, a Lhaso Apso/Maltese mix named Coco, for over fifteen years. But I was a child when we got him, and barely a young adult when he died. None of the years between that time did I ever think about animal abuse. I had naively assumed that all dogs were as loved and doted on as Coco was. Maybe I was too young, or too capably self-absorbed to look beyond the walls built around my cozy little life to see the world.

But I’m looking now, and I see the kinds of abuse animals suffer. Phil’s breed is the most abused and neglected breed of all dogs. The moment I fell in love with my pit-bull mix, I knew I had to fight for him. But I can’t only fight for pit-bulls. I need to fight for all the animals suffering because of human greed. Whether it be dogs living their miserable lives in dirty, over-crowded puppy mills, or pigs crammed into gestation crates so small they can’t even turn around, or mother cows bellowing for their babies, taken from them seconds after birth, to either be killed for meat, or raised to suffer as a dairy cow.

I need to fight for all animals being abused..

Last week, I participated in my first protest with Mercy for Animals. It was a protest against the way farm animals are forced to suffer.

This isn’t me being wonderful. This me finally doing something. And it’s about time I did.

puppy-mill-     pig_gestation_crates1pigs in crates

loving-mother-cow-and-calf1 Beautiful picture of love right here.

*I don’t own these pictures. I will take them down if they are copyrighted.

A (Not-So) Tiny Sacrifice

I had IVIG treatment today. For the next couple days I will feel fuzzy and foggy — a small sacrifice to endure for a treatment that has given me my life back (and will continue to for years to come because I’ve been doing this for fours years, every four weeks, and there is no foreseeable end). Four hours of lying in a bed with an IV stuck in my arm is a tiny sacrifice to endure to live again.

How did it come to be known that IVIG (Intravenous Immunoglobulin) would help immune deficient patients battle whatever disease is attacking their body? This therapy has taken the body that has fallen off a couch, too weak to lift itself up off the floor, the body that has fallen down stairs, legs not strong enough to reach the top, and has transformed that body into one that can walk, do yoga, and swallow with no fear of choking.

I’m so grateful, but today, I lay in that hospital bed and wondered about the animals, chimpanzees, in particular.

I volunteer at an animal shelter. I feel empathy for neglected, abandoned, and abused animals. I want to take them all home with me and show them what love feels like. I want them to know hands that comfort, and not hurt. I want the dog who has lived its life tied to a tree to know the feeling of the warmth of a bed with soft blankets. I want the dog who almost died from thirst to know there’s a bowl of fresh water, in the same place, anytime he wants it.

I want all these things because I hate suffering. I participate in protests against puppy mills, and those pet stores who by from those horrible places (which is most pet stores) because I hate suffering. I changed my eating habits to a (mostly) compassionate diet because I hate suffering. I research companies who test on animals and buy a different brand because I hate suffering. I do all of this because I hate the idea of contributing to the suffering of another living being, and yet, I don’t know if the treatment I go for every month has been tested on animals.

A chimpanzee has a 98% genetic similarity to humans. If the therapy I get was tested on an animal to see if it would benefit patients with my disease, (I haven’t yet checked because I don’t want to know. I’m not ready to know. I’m a coward like that) it most likely would have been a chimpanzee. Ironically, my most beloved animal growing up. Stuffed monkeys crowded my room as a kid. My favorite was one where the hands velcroed together so you can sling the arms around your neck and pretend like the monkey was clinging to you. I carried this chimp around my hip all the time.

So how fitting would it be if the suffering of a chimpanzee is the reason I feel better?

Not fitting at all because the only way a company could test if IVIG would work for my disease (and any disease) is to take a species with a similar functioning healthy immune system and make it sick. Yes, make a healthy and vibrant animal sick for the benefit of a human life — my life — possibly.

I don’t believe that animals are here for humans to do with them what they will. Maybe the Bible states Man’s dominion over animals, but I don’t believe everything in the Bible anyway, so I’m comfortable disagreeing. They are not our trophies in a one-player sport, or our entertainment performing a display of tricks while enduring cruel treatment, and, some argue, they aren’t even here to be our food.

They are living creatures who know pain and fear, and experience joy and sadness.

I’ve heard the heart-wrenching screams of a mother cow as she watches her calf being dragged away only seconds after birth. I’ve watched terror take over a pig when it knows it’s about to be killed in a brutal way — thumping — the industry calls it. I’ve seen cows and Beagles, who have spent their entire lives in cages inside factories, without ever once feeling the sun on their skin, frolic joyfully in the grass for the first time. And when given an option to lay on the floor or a bed piled with pillows, my dog will always choose the bed. Why? Because it’s more comfortable, and animals, even farm animals, recognize comfort over discomfort.

Which one do you think they prefer?

Today, I lay in a comfortable hospital bed while receiving the fluid that will help my body function as normally as it can, but what conditions were the chimpanzees living in when they were (are) experimented on? I imagine they were forced into small cages, in a bland and cold room, locked up like a prisoner, frightened and sick, not knowing why they are there because they’ve done nothing wrong — except to have the unfortunate luck in sharing enough DNA similarity to perhaps the greediest, self-entitled, and morally inept race alive today.

And cowardly, too. That’s my race. That’s me. And maybe some day I’ll be brave enough to know how much suffering (sacrifice) a living being endured so I can have my life back.

ID-10028278

Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net