———- Forwarded message ———-
From: Kinship Circle – kinshipcircle [at] accessus.net
Date: Dec 24, 2008 8:45 PM
Subject: Rebuilding Lives, Two Hands At A Time

KINSHIP CIRCLE ANIMAL DISASTER AID NETWORK

12/24/08: Rebuilding Lives, Two Hands At A Time
YEAR-END REFLECTIONS * www.kinshipcircle.org/disasters

THIS IS FOR YOU:

1. Rebuilding The Gulf Coast, Two Hands At A Time
2. Kinship Circle Recognized For Work In Iowa Floods 2008
3. The Great River Rescue
4. I Rescued A Human Today

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1. Rebuilding The Gulf Coast, Two Hands At A Time

SOURCE: 12/24/08, VIDEO – With My Own Two Hands
WATCH VIDEO NOW: www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJ44B33HRmo&NR=1

FROM KINSHIP CIRCLE: Thanks to my sister and fellow animal rescuer, Cara Shoss, for alerting me to this beautiful video and inspiration for this message. Brenda Shoss, president, Kinship Circle

From Cara Shoss, cshoss [at] gmail.com — Imagine what we could do if we all used our own two hands to change the world. Keep believing in what you are doing. Happy Holidays to all of you and thank you for using your two hands to make a difference for the animals in the world.

TURN UP YOUR SPEAKERS: www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJ44B33HRmo&NR=1

KINSHIP CIRCLE REFERENCES:

GULF COAST: Animals In Gulf Coast Storms & Other Disasters

www.kinshipcircle.org/disasters/gulfcoast/default.html

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Shadow came into our lives in the spring of ‘97.

It was June 2nd – late spring, early summer. I was just finishing up my freshman year of college. Busy with school, busy with work, busy with friends. Busy, busy, busy.

Rochester springs are rainy, and the spring of 1997 was no exception. The last days of May saw a week-long rainstorm. Consequently, we spent little time outside that week. When the rain finally let up, my mom went out behind the garage – to do some yardwork, or maybe some spring cleaning. There, under our tree house on stilts, she found a shivering, emaciated little dog. The pup didn’t appear to have any identification – no collar or such – but she clearly wasn’t feral, either. She seemed scared of us, yet she didn’t bolt. My mother brought the skeletal dog a bowl of food and water. Gradually, the rest of the family arrived home from school and work, and we took turns trying to coax the little scrapper out from her cramped hiding place.

By now, it was apparent that the dog was injured. Her skin was raw and marked with gravel, and she didn’t seem able to stand. After what felt like forever, my father was able to get a good enough grip on her. He hoisted her up and into the back of his car, and off to the vet they went.

The veterinarian’s assessment, delivered the next day, was grim: the dog’s right rear leg was “shattered,” and she also had some minor cuts and bruises. Most likely she had been hit by a car: the point of impact, her broken, battered rear leg. Scraped skin and embedded gravel suggested a hard, skidding landing on pavement. She was in rough shape – and at the point of starvation, to boot.

Due to the severity of her injuries – and, even more so, the potential cost of repairing and rehabilitating her damaged leg – the vet recommended we euthanize her. “It’s too much trouble,” he said. “Too much money to spend on some stray.”

Luckily, my parents didn’t agree. I remember receiving a call from them that day at work: Well, Kelly, what do you think we should do? Even though they solicited our advice, I suspect that they’d already made their decision, and just needed an extra nudge from us kids. I think they wanted some reassurance that they weren’t crazy for spending a few grand to patch up a dog they didn’t even know. We were a solidly middle-class family, but two grand isn’t exactly peanuts for six people living on one income.

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I was looking back through some of my babydoggy posts, and realized that I forgot to share the poem that Shane wrote for Kaylee last September. (Here are Ralphie and Peedee’s odes; O-Ren and Jayne are still waiting on theirs.) So here it be, along with some photos of my babygirl. Sweetest dog ever, she is. And shiny, too!

Kaylee

Kaylee the sweet with the very big teeth,
Come sit here and stay very near
I’ll pet your head, as you go to bed

Kaylee the wise, with your soulful eyes
Let me feed, and give what you need
I’ll give you dinner, so you stay thinner

Kaylee the mother, like no other
Go outside and run, and have some fun
I’ll watch you close, forgetting my woes

Kaylee our friend, a rat terrier blend
Time to scratch your ears, throughout the years
I’ll always praise, those adoption days

Kaylee our girl, running around in a whirl
I’ll put you on the bed, pat your head
I’ll drift asleep, with Kaylee in contented sleep

- Shane Brady, September 3, 2007

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Even though Shane wrote this poem to our “second-born” (adopted, really…he’s only the third-oldest, after Ralphie and Kaylee) months ago, today seems a fitting day to crosspost it here. Our little baby turns five (!) today! Seems like only yesterday, he was a wee little pup, peeing on my doormat at 2 in the morning, while I struggled frantically to get my shoes on and let him and his untrained bladder outside. Sigh. Them were the days.

Happy birthday, Mr. Peedee.
 

Peedee

Peedee is bright eyed and full of bark
Just looking at him you know he’s smart
Opening doors to get at his treat
He knows a hundred words on when to eat

He runs as fast as the wind goes
Stops and checks the air with his nose
He knows things are about to go down
His mind sparks and covers all ground

He looks at other dogs and scoffs
Only he knows the toys and payoffs
He can see where he last left them
And if someone moves them, mayhem

He jumps to the window at the slightest sound
Looking for any living creature around
Sometimes it’s kids, sometimes it’s a bunny
To Peedee, trespassers aren’t funny

He checks out every window knowing each view
He’ll double check each one before he’s through
His bark and howl, bring all dogs to his spot
He’s in command of the canine onslaught

Cunning he leaves the dogs behind
He has his mother to search and find
Hopping onto her lap, he curls into a ball
Once again, he outsmarted them all

- Shane Brady, June 18, 2007
 
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Not that I blame him, when said wiener looks this good.
 

 
Yes, our wiener dog sure is some kind of stud. Yes, I said “dog”. Now get your mind out of the gutter, ya perve.

Seriously, though, Shane has taken up penning poetry dedicated to our canines in his spare time. Which is totally awesome – I love critter lit! Doubly so when it’s dedicated to my very own furbabies.

So here’s Shane, worshiping Ralphie the wiener dog. More gratuitous wiener shots after the flip. (What? Throw enough “wiener-minus-the-dog” phrases in there, and the traffic on this post will, errr, “shoot” through the roof. Come for the porn, stay for the animal rights activism?)
 

Ralphie

He never sees a hole not to dig
He never stops his breakfast jig
His bark is loud, constant, and deep
He gives us so many memories to keep

His snout slightly grayed and covered in mud
His body, long and lean, a true canine stud
He loves to sleep , curl up and snore
Taking care of him is never a chore

He loves to take walks, and trot along
He’s great on a leash, never does wrong
Just say “Walk” and that tail wags
His nose to the ground, he never lags

He grunts, and snarls, to rule the home
He’s the king of where he roams
Sitting on the top of his sofa throne
Keeping all away from his treasure bone

Then at night, he runs on ahead
In the room, up the ramp, onto bed
He puts his head down for a dream
As quiet and content as he ever seems

He softly barks at dreamland prey
Never catching what he sees every day
We always smile at Ralphie at rest
Of all our dogs, he sleeps the best

- Shane Brady, May 31, 2007

 
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Living Graves

We are the living graves of murdered beasts,
Slaughtered to satisfy our appetites.
We never pause to wonder at our feasts,
If animals, like men, can possibly have rights.
We pray on Sundays that we may have light,
To guide our footsteps on the path we tread.
We’re sick of war, we do not want to fight -
The thought of it now fills our hearts with dread,
And yet – we gorge ourselves upon the dead.

www.peta2.com/livinggraves

Like carrion crows we live and feed on meat,
Regardless of the suffering and the pain
we cause by doing so, if thus we treat
defenceless animals for sport or gain,
how can we hope in this world to attain,
the PEACE we say we are so anxious for.
We pray for it o’er hecatombs of slain,
to God, while outraging the moral law,
thus cruelty begets its offspring – WAR.

- George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

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Tagged: animals animal rights animal welfare poem Living Graves George Bernard Shaw meat dairy eggs cow bovine pig chicken vegan veganism vegetarian vegetarianism activism flickr peta peta2 ecard people for the ethical treatment of animals critter lit poetry

The following prose isn’t entirely appropriate for the occasion, but all the tributes to military and working dogs I could find were gratuitously speciesist in nature. The only authentic poem in this genre seems to be the oft-repeated Rags, but…that’s not really Memorial Day fare, either.

So, in lieu of a schizophrenically sentimental tribute to working animals, a tribute to companions everywhere – along with a gentle reminder to love, honor, and cherish them today, tomorrow, and the day after…because you never know when the tomorrows will turn to yesterdays.

For our nation’s soldiers… Bring them home. All of them.

———————

I Am Your Dog

I am your dog, and I have a little something I would like to whisper in your ear.

I know that you humans lead busy lives. Some have to work. Some have children to raise. It always seems like you are running here and there, often much too fast, often never noticing the truly grand things in life.

Look down at me now, while you sit there at your computer. See, the way my dark brown eyes look at yours. They are slightly cloudy now. That comes with age. The gray hairs are beginning to ring my soft muzzle.

You smile at me; I see love in your eyes. What do you see in mine? Do you see a spirit? A soul inside, who loves you as no other could in the world? A spirit that would forgive all trespasses of prior wrongdoing for just a simple moment of your time?

That is all I ask. To slow down, if even for a few minutes to be with me.

So many times, you have been saddened by the words you read on that screen, of other of my kind, passing. Sometimes we die young and oh so quickly, sometimes so suddenly it wrenches your heart out of your throat. Sometimes, we age so slowly before your eyes that you may not even seem to know until the very end, when we look at you with grizzled muzzles and cataract clouded eyes. Still the love is always there, even when we must take that long sleep, to run free in a distant land.

I may not be here next week. Someday you will shed the water from your eyes, that humans have when deep grief fills their souls, and you will be angry at yourself that you did not have just “One more day” with me. Because I love you so, your sorrow touches my spirit and grieves me. We have NOW, together.

So come, sit down here next to me on the floor, and look deep into my eyes. What do you see? If you look hard and deep enough we will talk, you and I, heart to heart. Come to me, not as “alpha” or as “trainer” or even “Mom or Dad,” come to me as a living soul and stroke my fur and let us look deep into another’s eyes, and talk.

I may tell you something about the fun of chasing a tennis ball, or I may tell you something profound about myself or even life in general. You decided to have me in your life because you wanted a soul to share such things with.

Someone very different from you, and here I am.

I am a dog, but I am alive. I feel emotion, I feel physical senses, and I can revel in the differences of our spirits and souls. I do not think of you as a “Dog on two feet” – I know what you are. You are human, in all of your quirkiness, and I love you still.

Now, come sit with me on the floor. Enter my world, and let time slow down if only for 15 minutes. Look deep into my eyes, and whisper to my ears. Speak with your heart, with your joy and I will know your true self.

We may not have tomorrow, and life is oh so very short.

–Love, (on behalf of canines everywhere)

Author Unknown

———————

Photo via slagheap

Caption:

Lance Cpl. Charles E. Byerly, a 20-year-old dog handler, shows his dog Danny, 10, some love at Camp Habbaniyah, Iraq, Sept. 1. He wanted to care for his four-legged companion before they head back for Danny’s retirement in Camp Lejeune, N.C. Danny has deployed three times in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and one to Djibouti, Africa as a military working dog fighting insurgents with Marines. After the dog’s retirement Byerly will adopt his battle buddy. Byerly is from Mars, Pa., and is currently serving a seven-month deployment with 3rd Battallion, 2nd Marine Regiment in the Habbaniyah area under Regimental Combat Team 5.

Photo by: Lance Cpl. Ray Lewis
Submitting Unit: 1st Marine Division
Cleared for Release

To open your heart and home to a soldier’s companion, start at www.guardianangelsforsoldierspet.org.

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Tagged: animals animal rights animal welfare holidays memorial day working dogs war dogs military dogs working animals pet companion animal dog canine prose literature yesterdays best friends companions mates

Voice of the Voiceless

So many gods, so many creeds,
So Many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.

I am the voice of the voiceless:
Through me, the dumb shall speak;
Till the Deaf world’s ear be made to hear
The cry of the wordless weak.

From street, from cage and from kennel,
From jungle and stall, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaims the sin
Of the mighty against the frail

For love is the true religion,
And love is the law sublime;
And all is wrought, where love is not
Will die at the touch of time.

Oh shame on the mothers of mortals
Who have not stopped to teach
Of the sorrow that lies in dear, dumb eyes,
The sorrow that has no speech.

The same Power formed the sparrow
That fashioned man-the King;
The God of the whole gave a living soul
To furred and to feathered thing.

And I am my brother’s keeper,
And I will fight his fight;
And speak the word for beast and bird
Till the world shall set things right.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)

Picture by ~OM~ Bhardwaj

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Tagged: animals animal rights animal welfare Ella Wheeler Wilcox Voice of the Voiceless poetry dog canine

———- Forwarded message ———-
From: Kinship Circle – info [at] kinshipcircle.org
Date: Jan 23, 2007 10:13 AM
Subject: KC DIGEST: Israel Product Testing Ban, Serbia Still Poisoning, Iditarod Torture + MORE

Kinship Circle Primary – PERMISSION TO CROSS-POST AS WRITTEN

1/23/07: Kinship Circle DIGEST / ALERTS FROM MEMBERS
Israel Product Testing Ban, Serbia Still Poisoning, Iditarod Torture + MORE

IN JANUARY DIGEST:

1. Julia Sharp, Well-Known Rescuer, Needs Our Help
2. Israel: Ban Animal Testing For Cosmetic/Cleaning Products
3. Serbia: Mass Poisoning (T-61) Begins Again
4. Serbia: Fire Your Weapons For Those Who Can’t
5. EU: Support Written Declaration, EU Ban On Bullfighting
6. Family Dog Shot By Police Denied Aid; Dies Slowly
7. Who’s Supporting Iditarod Dog Torture In 2007?
8. Spanish Galgo Appeal: Send Email To Save These Dogs
9. Wish SHAC 7’s Josh And Jake Happy Birthdays
10. Argentina: Horse Drops Dead On Street In Entre Rios
11. Atlanta Puppy-Baking Trial Date Set For 1/29/07
12. Romania: Urge Press To Cover Crimes Against Animals
13. Animal Activist’s Home Raided
14. A Stockyard Filled With Sad Brown Eyes
15. PETITIONS TO SIGN

Each DIGEST includes:

* NEWS and CALL-TO-ACTION, submitted by Kinship Circle members.
* CONTACT INFO to reply directly to the activist who supplied the alert.
* Related KINSHIP CIRCLE LINKS for more background information.
* Submissions are from KC members and do NOT originate from Kinship Circle itself.
* If emails for letter recipients fail, contact person who supplied alert — NOT KINSHIP CIRCLE.
* Send submissions for KC DIGEST to kinshipcircle [at] brick.net
* Please “clean-up” submitted alerts, and do not send chain of forwarded messages.

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On Christmas Morning…

I wish,

For every dog
searching trash cans for breakfast,
a filled bowl with his name printed in bright letters.

For every dog
who slept fitfully last night, chained in a frozen yard, a soft, warm
bed with a person snoring gently nearby.

For every shelter dog,
spending Christmas morning in a soiled run, a forever home, filled with
sounds and smells of family.

For every “Christmas” puppy given today,
a tolerant, caring owner
who won’t abandon you
as you grow into a real dog.

For every ailing pet,
enough money for your owner
to pay the bills to make you well.

For every lost dog,
a clear, safe road, and well marked path,
to lead you home.

For every old and tired friend,
a warm fire, and a soft bed,
to ease your aches and pains.

and

For every Heart Dog at the Bridge,
a moment when you know that you
are remembered today,
missed again,
and loved forever.

- Author unknown

(Via.)

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Tagged: animals animal+rights poem rescue animal+rescue shelters animal+shelters adoption animal+adoption dogs canines cats felines christmas x-mas volunteer donate foster rainbow+bridge love companion+animals