A n i m
a l W r i t e s © sm
The
official ANIMAL RIGHTS ONLINE newsletter
Publisher ~ EnglandGal@aol.com
Issue #
04/15/01
Editor ~ JJswans@aol.com
Journalists ~ Park StRanger@aol.com
~
MichelleRivera1@aol.com
THE EIGHT ARTICLES IN THIS ISSUE ARE:
1 ~ Has Anybody Seen My Mind? It Seems
To Be Lost
by MichelleRivera1@aol.com
2 ~ Mindfulness
3 ~ A Review of the 106th Congress on Animal
Legislation
by Park StRanger@aol.com
4 ~ Warning Easter Lilies Toxic to Cats
5 ~ Remembrances of a Circus by Donna Anderson
6 ~ Job Opportunity
7 ~ Easter Bunny by Mary Brandolino
8 ~ Quote to Remember
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Has Anybody Seen My Mind?
It Seems To Be Lost
by MichelleRivera1@aol.com
In
her article, The Escape, which appeared in Animal Writes Issue 3/28/01, my
friend and fellow writer, Laura Moretti wrote of her visit to the Golden Gate
Bridge. She shared her experience of enjoying the beauty and charm of the
famous scenery, only to be let down when, after searching the bills of fare and
finding nothing to eat, purchased lunch items at a grocery store on the way
home. As vegans, this is an all-too-familiar situation for many of us.
I had the same experience recently while visiting the infamous Fisherman's
Wharf in Manhattan and admiring the beautiful Brooklyn Bridge. I marveled
at the tall ships and the life-sized fiberglass cows that were present for a
special art event. Cows on surfboards, cows in tuxedoes, cows covered
with dollar bills (cash cow) and sadly, cows on the menu. I, too, could
find nary a restaurant in which to dine and, having surrendered any ideas of a
nice riverside lunch, settled for a fat pretzel and a lemon sorbet. Those
of us who have dedicated our lives to animal advocacy face these circumstances
all the time. We have come to accept them, quietly cursing the world
around us for the apathy, cruelty and sadness we see all around us.
"Why can't others see it too?" we ask ourselves. Are things ever going
to
change for the animals?
These
feelings of helplessness and hopelessness can lead to genuine, indisputable,
and certifiable mental anguish and emotional ruin. Those of us who work
in rescue are exposed to these feelings not only in our activism, but in our
professional lives too.
One day after attending a meeting of the sheriff's task force on dog fighting,
I attended a workshop on compassion fatigue, a condition akin to post traumatic
stress disorder -- the same turmoil that soldiers who served in the Viet Nam
war faced upon their return. "Imagine standing next to your best
buddy and watching his body blown apart," they told us upon their return,
and they asked us to consider what it would be like for us to be yanked out of
our lives and dropped into a situation where we witness atrocities that are so
unspeakable it took movies like Full Metal Jacket to help the rest of us
understand just what those young men experienced. Many of them suffered,
and continue to suffer to this day, post traumatic stress disorder. Not
just a vivid memory, this is the reliving of horrible sights and sounds and
feelings and the depression that follows.
But we do know what that is like. We come home from work at night and
turn on our computers to find yet another Action Alert describing yet another
horror that animals endure. Be it the dogs and cats in Korea being raised
and inhumanely killed for food, or the poaching of baby chimpanzees for Western
zoos, or the refusal of ranchers to discuss non-lethal methods of predator
control, we are assaulted with images of our friends, the animals, having their
lives and their bodies "blown apart" and we are shocked and saddened
and traumatized not again, but still. We take no breaks from our activism
because there is still so much work to be done, so we force ourselves to write
yet another letter to yet another senator,
sign yet another petition, or read the gory details of yet another campaign so
that when we argue our points we can be well-advised and faultless. The animals
deserve no less. The truth is, we are not so shocked anymore, and that's
a scary thought, isn't it? Just when did we stop being the pacifist,
non-violent activist and decide that euthanasia may be put to better use on the
vivisectionist instead of unwanted dogs and cats?
We don't really think the same way much anymore either, do we? I mean,
last week I was visiting Broward Humane Society in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, and
saw that they were selling Rodrique's Blue Dog as a poster for a $50 donation.
Now the Blue Dog paintings are very expensive and even the
lithographs go for about $800. (see www.bluedogart.com) But the poster
can only be acquired by making a donation to the humane society, so I
did. I took my poster to a frame shop and had it beautifully framed and
it now hangs on my living room wall. The problem is, it speaks to me. We
all
know that art speaks to us and says different things to different people.
But even though I love my Blue Dog artwork, I must admit that gazing at the
image of the Blue Dog and the black cat sitting side by side, their eyes wide
open, staring intently back at me, says something to me that makes me feel very
uncomfortable. When I look at them I see two animals saying "Oh yes,
we have been saved, we have homes. See, we are wearing collars! But there are thousands of other animals out
there still waiting to be saved! What
are you doing sitting there on the couch when there is so much work to be
done! Get up! Get out! We're desperate! Situation Critical! Go save some
animals for crying out loud!" And the guilt layer gets thicker and thicker
so that I must look away from the poster and go find solace in some
Rainforest Crunch.
For years, my family has been sending money to Save the Children. I have
been writing to my little friend, this boy in Africa named Yezala for a while
now. Last week, I received a letter from him that says, in part "You asked
me about Sako, my dog. This Sako is a female dog and four years.
She is not very beauty, she is white, less color all over the body. I get
Sako from my friend, the name Sako means "unhappy." I always
say Sako just for shortening her name, it's full name is "Sakondwera"
here in Melawi it means "not happy." I gave my dog that name
because others were not happy with my dog. Sake is not big and she has young
ones." And he enclosed a picture he drew of a dog. The remarkable
thing about the drawing is that he made the effort to draw six large nipples
hanging on the underside of the dog, leading me to believe that this is a
physical part of her that is so obvious, this child made a point of including
them. A testimony to the fact that his litter of "young ones"
is certainly not her first, and probably won't be her last.
Suddenly, I am not so clear on who it is I am meant to help through my
contributions to Save the Children. Suddenly, I am far more concerned about an
innocent, defenseless animal who "others are not happy with" and I
cringe at the thought of how they display this "unhappiness" with
this poor dog. Further, I want to deliver my standard lecture, complete
with statistics and photos, flyers and all manner of literature on the benefits
of spay/neuter. What will become of
those poor puppies? What has become of the other litters?
I am no longer enjoying my little pen pal, I am angry and concerned and
frustrated.
At this Compassion Fatigue workshop I learned that one of the worse things we
can do is "vent" to someone outside the animal-rights movement. They
won't get it, and their not getting it will only serve to frustrate us more. If
I am working on a certain dog-fighting crime, and the gory, heinous,
I-wish-to-God-I could-lose-this-scene details are keeping me up at night, I
cannot expect my spouse to understand what it is that I am going through.
Debriefing with another cruelty officer is the only effective way of venting
the hatred and working through the anger. They, and only they, won't respond
with empty solutions, demands that I "quit this job" or looks of
horror at the slightest mention of what goes on inside bloodsports. They
will just listen and sympathize, perhaps responding with "that happened to
me once" or "remember the time…." And a bonding has taken place
that will quell the demons for a short time once again.
All this unhappiness and anger and frustration cannot be good for our spirits
and our psyches. We must be a powerful support system for one another, we
must learn to overlook little oversights and find our way to the bigger
picture. I once sought relief in a therapist, but like Tony Soprano, I could
not make her understand what it is I do, how important it is to me, and why I
must continue to stay in the fight. Those outside the movement just don't
really understand, so how can they offer help? We must support each
other, all of us. We must find a way to keep a close watch on one another, in
case someone you know starts to fall too deeply into a slough of despair from
which there is no escape. In other words, be kind to each other, therapy
for one another, and strength for one another.
And remember to take time for yourself. Remember to step back once in a while
and breathe. If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of the
animals and they will have lost another powerful ally. How's that for
irony?
There will always be animals in trouble. Always, too, will there be
sympathetic cashiers just around every corner.
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Mindfulness
Anonymous
A co-worker arrived with a basket full of Easter
trinkets which she was giving out to everyone in our department. The
trinkets were decorated, multicolor eggs on a stick, surrounded by colored
wispy feathers.
"Oh, great... just great... Please tell me she is not going to give me an
egg," I thought to myself. "If it's not bad enough to
think of all the chickens forced to suffer for something this silly and
pointless, the eggs were probably colored with PAAS egg-decorating dye which is
made by the egregious animal testing conglomerate Schering-Plough.
Ugh."
Surprisingly, when she got to my desk (after every one else had been given the
egg-on-a-stick trinket), she dug way down in the bottom of the basket while
saying with a coy smile, "But you, Ms. Thang... YOU get something
different because I KNEW you wouldn't want me to give you an egg," and she
produced from the basket a little chicken shaped candle. [Yeah, you
guessed it - the candle is not vegan either... but for a moment, let's work
with the premise that it's the thought that counts!]
No sooner had she spoken the words, when all the egg-on-a-stick recipients
encircled my desk asking, "Uh, what is wrong with eggs?"
In this micro-second, I considered shrugging it off (making a flippant joke or
changing the subject) and avoiding the question... just to let them enjoy what
was a well-intended gesture on the part of the coworker who gave them the
egg-on-a-stick trinkets. But, then I considered the chickens and any
reluctance to shield the "mindful-LESS" went out the window. In
a way, it is very good that my coworker thought enough about the issue to have
not given me an egg... but really the point is not that eggs shouldn't be given
to vegans but to avoid consumerism of these products all-together.
I immediately pulled UPC's website up on my computer in their view, and began
explaining "what's wrong with eggs." I answered all their
questions patiently and in-depth, and when the topic of eating chickens arose,
I described specifically what happens in a chicken slaughterhouse. When
answering questions like "why are you vegan?" and "what's wrong
with eggs?", I always reply with a nonchalant, matter-of-fact intonation
(as if I were telling them that the Earth is not flat).
Needless to say, I rained on the parade of half a dozen people and completely
ruined the enjoyment of the coworker who was trying to spread goodwill by
giving out the trinkets... Sigh. I certainly don't like being in that
position... but for the chickens, what choice is there?
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A Review of the 106th Congress
on Animal Legislation
by Park StRanger@aol.com
The Humane Scorecard is a valuable annual resource prepared by
the Humane Society of the U.S.
http://hsus.org/
The Humane Society of the United States | Home Page
and
The Fund for Animals
www.fund.org
The
Scorecard shows the votes of every U.S. Senator and Representative on a variety
of animal related issues and this year covers legislation passed or rejected by
the 106th Congress on leghold traps, lethal predator control, dolphin
protection, crush videos, cockfighting, bear protection and chimpanzee
sanctuaries.
If you are a supporter of one of these two organizations they mail you a nice
hardcopy of the Scorecard. It can also be accessed online at this page of
The Fund for Animals, you need Adobe Acrobat Reader which is available from a
link...
The
Fund for Animals: How Did Your Legislators Vote in the 106th Congress?
http://fundforanimals.ctsg.com/library/documentViewer.asp?ID=146&table=action_alerts
Looking over the data I noticed that the 106th
Congress banned interstate commerce in and commercial gain from Crush Videos, which
depict the sexual fetish of women crushing small animals to death, by a large
majority. But I had to wonder why there were 42 House Representatives who
voted against the ban. Is there a lobby for animal porn in
Congress? It must be especially strong in Georgia, where that state's 11
representatives were equally divided on the issue. Five for, five
against, one absent (behind the barn perhaps?). (Apologies to AR friends
in Georgia, our legislators in Texas had a more pitiful record on animal protection).
The information in the Scorecard is most helpful in preparing letter writing
and phone campaigns to your congressional representatives on the animal issues
that concern us, and The Fund for Animals website is one of my favorite
places for information on pending national and state legislation.
Please remember, the current administration is a tad bit hard of hearing when
the topic is animal protection. Speak Often.
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Warning
Easter Lilies Toxic to Cats
from L. French - elf8000@juno.com
All
varieties of lilies -- Easter, Oriental, Tiger -- are highly toxic to cats
(renal failure). Please spread the word to cat people, florists,
veterinarians.
Attention cat guardians -- you should be aware that ALL Lilies (Easter,
Oriental, Tiger) are extremely toxic to cats even in small quantities. I have
checked this fact with my vet this morning and he confirms it can cause deadly
renal failure. As it is almost Easter, there are a lot of Easter Lilies in
stores right now, but no warnings indicate how lethal they are to our furry
friends. Please pass this message on to all your cat loving buddies.
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Remembrances of a Circus
by Donna Anderson
AnimalConcerns.org (formerly Animal Rights Resource Site)
For two weeks, the Ringling Bros. and Barnum
& Bailey Circus was in town ...and what hard weeks they were. Leaflets by
the thousands were handed out, urging to make this circus the last until
animals are banned from its entertainment, banned from its abuses. I completely
agree.
I don't know how many times I went to leaflet or how many hours I stood in
front of the Philadelphia Spectrum, but the experience will be something I'll
never forget. The tears still pour when I think about the elephants in their
chains, the horses not being able to reach the hay on the ground, and the basic
fact that they did not belong there. To heal my grief, I thought of them in
wide open plains, grazing, just enjoying life. It didn't help much, for every
time I walked around to see the animals, I saw Conga, a large, worn elephant in
massive chains. Those were the times my heart broke into pieces...pieces that
I'll never be able to repair.
Whether this elephant was a male or a female, I'll never know, but I saw him
and how violently he rocked, through an opened section of the tent. His chains rattled with even the most subtle
movement he made, reminding both him, and I, of their presence.
Every day I went to leaflet, I checked on him, knelt on the grassy sidewalk and
strained to see under the heavy canvas that hid him from all eyes. And every
time, my heart broke more. The thought of him filled my dreams, as well as my
waking hours. His rocking (according to a spokesperson for Ringling Bros. was
to keep his blood flowing) replayed in my mind, battling what little strength I
had left. How could I tell him I was there for him, that I felt the gloom of
his life?
The last day, the final show, of the circus was the hardest for me and all of
the protesters who came to photograph, videotape, and just observe. The tents
were down, packed away in the freight train waiting to roll to a different
city. And there was Conga, the sorrow in his dull eyes staring back at me
through the chain-linked fence. He seemed old, his skin badly cracked, his
movements slow. Most of his time was spent separated from the other elephants,
except for the ten or fifteen minutes he was away at the show, leading the
others in the opening act. I watched as he struggled to reach for a carrot
lying in his own urine (probably the first he had been given in a long time)
and cringed as he stretched his chains so tight to snuggle with another
elephant that I thought he would either rip the hook from the cement, or tear
his leg off.
That was a long day and I still feel worn from its happenings. At times, I felt
as one of the animals being watched, though my watchers were the circus
workers, sure I, or one of the others, would do something drastic. No one did.
We all stood silently and documented any abuse our eyes fell upon, and to our
eyes we saw all...a young elephant with its trunk badly scarred by an elephant
hook, another rolling on the hard cement as water was given (the closest to a
mud bath he had ever gotten), and the battle from all of them to move further
than their short chains would allow.
Night fell and all left, except myself and two others. We rode around the
stadium a few times, not sure if we were really ready to go home, not sure what
we could do if we weren't. The last time we neared the animals, all of the
elephants were gone... they were getting ready to walk (in chains) the tenth of
a mile to the waiting freight trains. Our cameras readied, we stood in the
street as the first two elephants passed, our eyes wet with tears. Then I
realized, "They're not in chains!" Needless to say, everyone looked
when they heard us cheering our hearts out. And never before had the tears
flowed as rapidly, so happily. So, for the small one-tenth of a mile, all of
the animals felt a hint of freedom for only the second time since they've been
coming to Philadelphia. (There was only one other time they did not
carry the burden of chains as they walked from the train to the stadium) And
there...behind the line of elephants was Conga, stumbling in his steps, not
sure how to walk without the chains he had grown so accustomed to.
Perhaps our presence was the cause, or perhaps it was the presence of the
horrified circus patrons who finally believed what they had read in the
leaflets. It didn't matter...Ringling had surrendered for that small one-tenth
of a mile walk of freedom.
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Job Opportunity
FLORIDIANS FOR HUMANE FARMS
To assist in the day-to-day running of the 'Ban Cruel Farms' Campaign,
Floridians for Humane Farms is looking for an Office Manager.
The main responsibility of this position is to oversee the general operations
of the office. Specific responsibilities include overseeing weekly phone banks
and the processing of petitions, mailing petitions and materials to volunteers,
maintaining the database, assisting in coordinating volunteers and providing
support services to the Campaign Manager. The Office Manager will also recruit
and train volunteers each week to assist with the above tasks.
This a challenging position based in our Pompano Beach office -- the campaign
headquarters. Applicants should have some office experience or volunteer
coordination experience. Regular office hours are 9am-6pm, with some evenings
as required. The applicant should be good natured, work
effectively under pressure and be detail oriented. The salary is $24,000 and
the job will extend through November 2002 with an initial 3-month trial period.
If you are interested in applying, please fax your resume along with a cover
letter by April 23 to (954) 946.1694 or mail to:
Floridians for Humane Farms
1859 South Dixie Highway
Pompano Beach, FL 33060
For information about the campaign, please visit www.bancruelfarms.org
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Easter Bunny
by Mary Brandolino
In memory of all the bunnies we
couldn't save
I remember Easter Sunday
It was colorful and fun
The new life that I'd begun
In my new cage.
I was just a little thing
When they brought me from the store
And they put me on the floor
In my cage.
They would take me out to play
Love and pet me all the time
Then at day's end I would climb
In my cage.
But as days and weeks went by
I saw less of them it seemed
Of their loving touch I dreamed
In my cage.
In the night outside their house
I felt sad and so neglected
Often scared and unprotected
In my cage.
In the dry or rainy weather
Sometimes hotter sometimes colder
I just sat there growing older
In my cage.
The cat and dog raced by me
Playing with each other only
While I sat there feeling lonely
In my cage.
Upon the fresh green grass
Children skipped and laughed all day
I could only watch them play
From my cage.
They used to take me out
And let me scamper in the sun
I no longer get to run
In my cage.
Once a cute and cuddly bunny
Like a little ball of cotton
Now I'm grown up and forgotten
In my cage.
I don't know what went wrong
At the home I did inhabit
I just grew to be a rabbit
In my cage.
But they've brought me to the pound
I was once loved and enjoyed
Now I wait to be destroyed
In my cage.
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Quote To Remember
"Common
sense tells me that vegetables and fruits are more natural foods for peple to
eat, rather than meat. No one wants to live next to a slaughterhouse, but we
enjoy a little garden patch or peach tree in
our yard.
~ Dennis Weaver
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Susan Roghair - EnglandGal@aol.com
Animal Rights Online
P O Box 7053
Tampa, Fl 33673-7053
http://www.geocities.com/RainForest/1395/
-=Animal Rights Online=-
&
Advisory Board Member, Animal Rights Network Inc.,
not-for-profit publisher of The Animals' Agenda Magazine
http://www.animalsagenda.org/
The Animals' Agenda Magazine: WebEdition
«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»
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