jessi_chan

I guess the people out there want to turn owning a pet into a luxury.

Yes, I do think owning a pet is a luxury. First, the definition of LUXURY

Definition: - a material object, service, etc., conducive to sumptuous living, usually a delicacy, elegance, or refinement of living rather than a necessity: Gold cuff links were a luxury not allowed for in his budget

Also take owning a car per say, owning a car and driving the car is not a god given right, it is a luxury. It kind is your right to to own and drive a car but not a NECESSITY.

Trust me I got this speech all the time when borrowing my Aunt's truck to drive around.

Ok, here it goes... this is my first REAL post about a heated topic. Which I am a HUGE animal lover! So here are my feelings on this IT IS A GREAT IDEA! First, they are not banning absolutely ALL animals to be spayed or neutered, if you READ it states..

The bill would require pet owners to spay and neuter their dogs and cats, or face a $500 fine for each animal. Breeders, as well as owners of guide dogs, could obtain exemptions.

So that means animals will still be reproducing but only the professionals can do it, because there are stupid people who don't care about their animals and let their animals go around 'mating' with other stupid peoples animals. and BOOM you have millions unwanted puppies and kittens. Another reason this is a good law is because

Supporters say the bill requiring pets to be spayed or neutered is necessary to reduce the population of unwanted pets dumped in the state’s shelters. AND. At least 500,000 animals each year are killed in the most populous U.S. state, imposing an unacceptable “humanitarian” cost on California, said Assemblyman Lloyd Levine, the Democrat promoting the bill.

Those dogs and cats also impose a big expense to the state as keeping and killing them costs $300 million a year, Levine said in a telephone interview.

So would you rather kill over 500,000 animals (just in Cali) a year just because you didn't like the fact that someone is 'telling' you what to do with your animals or would you rather just get your animal spayed or neutered and save thousands among thousands of animals lives. Also since they are going to fine you if you disobey this law would you rather pay like around $200 to have your pet spayed or neutered or pay a $500 fine? (common sense)

So I leave you with some reading material.... (note that it is kinda long, disturbing, depressing, but 100% TRUE) This is in regards to what goes on in the animal "shelters"

"The Shelter"

It is early morning at the Stanislaus County Animal Shelter. And for

you, the animal care specialist, the day opens in minor chords.

You walk to the computer and print out the list of dogs that fill

dozens of the agency's kennels. You sit there with your coffee,

highlighting in yellow marker the ones that have been here for five

days. They've all got a story.

Someone stopped loving him. No one ever loved her. He got too big. She

started chewing on sprinklers. He bit a child. Her owner is out of

town, and the house sitter noticed the dog got out but didn't bother to

call the shelter. Whatever happened, it doesn't matter now: Their time

is up.

You move to the first noisy cage. As you open the door, a few dogs try

to escape, while others cram themselves into the far corners to avoid

you. Everyone on the outside says the animals have no idea what's

coming, but you've seen too much proof to the contrary. Yes, on some

sad level, they know.

You squeeze into the cage and slip your leash, your noose, around the

neck of one. You lead him back to the gate and open it just enough for

you to squeeze through. You pull his head closer to the gate, and get

ready. Then you jerk him out quickly and slam the door so the others

don't get out. He's scared and whimpering, looking around frantically,

but he does what he's told and follows you, faithfully, to the end of

the line.

The killing room is a large, cold place with a small row of metal

cages along one of the concrete walls. There's a large, stainless-steel

table in one corner, holding syringes, needles and bottles of

tranquilizer and Fatal Plus, a solution of sodium pentobarbital that

usually kills within seconds.

As a co-worker readies the syringe, you're kneeling, holding the dog

still, cuffing one leg with your hand. Sometimes you have to fight

them. Sometimes the battle is so fierce, you resort to forcing them

between a gate hinged on a wall, immobilizing them long enough so you

can get the needle in.

But not this time. This one's calm. He trusts you. He even gives you

his paw: He's obviously someone's pet. So you stroke his head softly as

the co-worker finds a vein. Then, just like that, he melts in your

arms. You grab his paw again and drag his limp body to a corner.

One by one, you lay them out on the cement floor. One by one. Though

county records show roughly 15,000 animals are killed each year at the

shelter, it's a number, like eternity, that defies comprehension. But

when one considers the solitary act of each animal death, and the

people who do the dirty work, the number 15,000 comes into better

focus. One death is a tragedy; anything more than that is just a

statistic.

On this morning, and every morning, there will be about 15 to 20 of

these canine executions, not counting the ones that come in throughout

the day that are injured or unadoptable. As you walk to the cages to

retrieve another, the anger swells inside you. Because you know most of

this daily ritual easily could be avoided. Spay and neuter, people, you

say to yourself.

Spay and neuter!

Time runs out on a mother pit bull and her puppies. When she showed up

here last week, your only hope was that she wouldn't give birth before

her five days were up. But she did.

You hardly could stand to watch her care for her pups, licking them,

dragging them around to protect them. Finally, you gave in and fed her

treats, telling her, "That's a good girl."

Because, sadly, you knew all her efforts were in vain. This day always

comes. Once you've got them all gathered in the room, you put her down

first. Because you've learned the babies cry when they're injected, and

that only adds stress to the mother.

One by one. One after another. You stack the singles into piles. You

load the piles into 55-gallon barrels. You push the barrels into the

walk-in freezer, where rows and rows of barrels fill completely about

twice a week. The barrels are emptied into trucks. It's like a factory

here. And they call this a shelter?

The stench of death permanently haunts the air: It's a dull fragrance

you won't forget the rest of your life. Someday years from now, you'll

be served food at a restaurant, and something will trigger the memory

of that awful smell. Just like that, the meal will be over. You wash

your hands incessantly; trouble is, what you're trying to clean doesn't

go away with soap and water. That would take a psychologist, better

than the one you have.

An hour into it, you're nearing the last of the morning's kill. Next

up is an adorable pop-eyed Chihuahua you had thought someone might

claim. Or adopt. You start for her, but then you make a grave mistake:

You look into her eyes. In a flash, your mind acknowledges that this is

a living, breathing thing. Damn dog, now she's under your skin.

Suddenly, you can't bring yourself to do it. Not this one. Your back

yard already brims with the dogs and cats you've personally spared over

the years, and there's simply no more room. So, you sneak her off the

list and move her to another kennel. Your day off is tomorrow, and you

just put it out of your mind. That's all you can do.

Now, through the bars, you spot the big mongrel. You squeeze into the

cage, and he moves away. He's scared and hungry; he's not the alpha

male in this lot, so he hasn't eaten in five days. And who knows what

he went through before he ended up here? So you kneel and call to him

in a pleasant voice. Now he's wagging his tail because he thinks you're

going to rescue him from this awful place.

You get him outside and pet him to try to keep him calm. But he's

excited, jumping up and down, because you helped him out of the chaos.

You're his friend now; he'll follow you anywhere. So you lead him

toward the room and he trots along happily.

But halfway there, something shifts in him. You figure he's starting

to smell that stench coming from the freezer. Yes, on some level, they

know. He starts jerking his neck back, using his front legs to try to

pull you back. The more you fight him, the more he realizes he should

fight. So you drag him the rest of the way.

Once you get him into the room, he's still fighting pretty hard. Your

arms are getting tired. To get him to the table, you both trip over

piles of dead dogs that now cover the floor. Finally, you get him

stopped. The soft talk helps a little, and you're able to hold him

still enough for the co-worker to find a vein. Once it's in, you let

go. He moves away, woozy. They don't always die immediately. He wanders

over to the corpse of another dog, and sniffs it a little before

collapsing onto the floor.

Spay and neuter, people!

Leaving the room, you remember something you wanted to tell a

co-worker. She's working alone in the cat room, putting down several

dozen to start her day. You open the door, but the scene makes you

forget what you wanted to say. There she is, sitting in a corner,

crying, surrounded by dozens of dead cats that litter the floor. You

make eye contact and get ready to say something, but she waves you off.

It's a quick shake of the head that says, "I'm fine; just leave me

alone." So you do. For those who do this for a living, it's mostly

business as usual, life goes on. But there are occasional meltdowns.

Not to mention divorce, denial, alcoholism, nightmares, antidepressants

and all sorts of other ugly side effects.

Walking away from the cat room, a simple question forms in your head,

one that plagues you often throughout your days here: Does anybody care

about animals? Anyone at all?

Inside, you know there are thousands of people, just like you, who

cherish their pets and treat them like family. Or even royalty. Working

here, you rarely see those folks. They take care of their animals.

Instead, you get the people who before business hours drop off a

cardboard box of mangled kittens that were used to train pit bulls to

fight dirty. Usually, they just toss the dead alongside the road

somewhere, but for some reason, someone brought these in. You open the

box to discover all but one are dead, and the only one alive is using

its front legs to crawl toward you because its back legs are crushed.

Or you get the people whose hobby is trapping feral cats and bringing

them to the shelter. Once you asked about strange lines etched into the

stick they use to hold the trap shut, hoping you were wrong. But, yes,

like notches in a gun, that's how they track how many cats they've

captured. It's a game to them.

Or you get the man who brings in three kittens in an ice chest he

placed in his trunk. In the middle of summer. When you open the lid,

most of the horror has played out. You look up and scold him, asking

him what he was thinking. And he shrugs. Not like it matters, he says,

they didn't belong to anyone.

Or you get the people who pull up in a moving van to drop off their

family pet, saying that they can't take the dog with them and that they

were unable to find the animal a home. They drive away, conscious

clear, leaving the dirty work for you. Like you're some kind of

sin-eater.

And to think, you took this job because you wanted to save animals.

Standing there at the kennels, lost in the flashbacks, you ask yourself

again: Does anybody care?

Anyone at all?

A friendly face pops into your mind. Yes, there is one, you finally

remember, trying to cheer yourself up. That poor young woman from the

west side, the one who's been coming by twice a week for the last six

months, looking for her beloved red Doberman pinscher. She keeps asking

you, "How long should I keep looking?" And you keep telling her, "As

long as your heart needs to." Who are you to take away hope?

And now, come to think of it, you did notice a nice-looking Doberman

in the back kennels this morning. Nah, couldn't be, you think. He

disappeared six months ago. But, needing a miracle, you go and check

anyway. You look him over for a while. There is some red in his coat,

but you're not certain.

Cautiously, you have someone call the woman. Be sure to tell her we're

not sure, you say, but let her know we might have her dog. An hour

later, the woman is scurrying through the hall toward the back kennels.

You can barely keep up with her.

I think I hear him, she keeps saying excitedly. She keeps calling out

his name. All you hear is what you always hear: the deafening din of

scores of barking dogs. When you get to the back kennels, a lowered

metal guillotine door is keeping everything outside. So you raise the

door, and 80 pounds of frenetic dog come bounding inside, wildly

running around the cage. You think to yourself, how would he even know

she was coming? Yes, on some level, they always know.

Just like that, this huge dog plasters itself against the chain-link

fence, licking the fingers of a woman who's pressing herself against

the fence, too. The scene is reminiscent of lovers on a beach. It's

him, it's him, she keeps saying. All the while, this enormous dog is

emitting the strangest high-pitched yipping you've ever heard, almost

like a puppy.

Overcome with emotion, the woman sinks to the cement gutter and starts

sobbing into her hands. You sit next to her to offer some comfort.

Then, before you know it, you're right beside her, bawling

uncontrollably. She's crying because her life is complete again. And

you're crying because, after working this job, your life never will be

the same. Because for every animal that leaves with its owner, half a

dozen are hauled off in garbage trucks.

No, you think, wiping away the tears, this is no place for an animal

lover.

I hope now you can see why I believe this is a good law.

Hey.. no one is supposed to vote until ALL votes are in, right? so yeah.... And hopefully XP will be getting his freakin pics up soon..?

I'd buy it... for $150.. hell yeah. hell I would LOVE to have the Super 88! THAT IS SEXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe my car is getting back at me because I have not been driving it lately... It has been Dodgefan.. iunno just a thought..

Sighs.... My poor baby!! I dont know what Dodgefan did to f*** up my poor baby.. (just kidding) I swear i am gonna kill something if it is the damn clutch again. Sigh, i never thought I would say this.... but I am about to start thinking it is time for a new car... but i love my prizm!! I just really dont know what to do... and hear to think i JUST got a damn job! and my damn car is f***ing up!! DAMNIT!

It's a car that should be driven by clowns in a circus, not on New England roads as a taxi.

I sure as hell would expect the fare to be damn cheap if my Taxi cab is a Scion!

The xB is the only semi-cool Scion though, cute as a button.

Who Knew Mrs. M. Cooper & Mr. C. Astrovan would make a good looking baby!?

I HATE THE MINI COOPER!! EWWWWWWWWWWW O well though.. and the ASTROVAN... that is all I have to say.. lol

the pic with the honda and the sticker on it was fun as hell! and hey.. what is funny about the Scion xB taxi cab? lol.. (btw i LOVE xB's!!!!!)

Oh, another BTW our pics won't be uploaded until 2nite, sadly, He just had to go to work too soo. If he had another 30mins, he could have done it but it just was not there. So they will be loaded around 11:00 or so. Sorry but it just happened that way, (and I dont know how to do it and he wants the pics loaded in a certain way so yeah) sorry

Yes, I have finally joined.. after hearing about it and reading this forum with Dodgefan, I decided 'what the heck' I might as well join. Plus it is a pretty cool forum. So yeah.. I am pretty excited to see yours and Speeding Penguin's pics, as well as XP's. I have to say this scavenger hunt was a real blast, I am happy that we got in on the fun. Oh and btw our pics look a LOT better when on the comp, the camera just really sucks. lol

Downshift or leave it in gear, but never just put it in neutral. Putting it in neutral leaves you with one less way to control the car.

Thank You! That was what I was taught, you should downshift so you can have better control of the car. Because yes if you put it in neutral you don't really have control of the car..

And as for you Dodgefan.. I told you to not include me damnit! You were supposed to say me and a FRIEND not your g/f... lol I didn't want anyone thinking I'm stupid.... lol. Oh well.

Well I'm just happy he got his computer up and running again, because now I can have my computer back all to myself. YAY! LOL

A QQ is your argument? They're cute, like more practical Beetles. The fact that they could make a workable car with a 800cc engine still blows me away. You don't think young women would buy these?

If GM giving the Chinese as little credit as you close-minded posters are, I fear for the future of GM.

Ok, I am a young woman.. and NO I would not buy this car.. I would rather buy the actual car that was made here rather than buying it from there as a knock-off car.. I would rather buy the Real McCoy than an imposture. LOL.

Well this should be real fun. You can definitely count Dodgefan and I in on the fun!