Day 72: Thanksgiving massacre

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 72: Thanksgiving massacre

When a hundred people die individually, nobody knows, nobody cares. When a hundred people die together, it makes the news and it’s called a tragedy. 

When millions of turkeys are slaughtered, we call it Thanksgiving. 

Do you understand the picture above? We love cats, and dogs for that matter, but we mercilessly slaughter barn animals.

Why is that some animals are loved and others are killed without a second thought? 

Is it because cats and dogs are cute and barn animals are not? What does that say for people? Do those of us who are beautiful or at least good looking have more right to live than those of us less attractive?

A few days ago, millions of turkeys walked around happily. They felt the warmth of the sun, pecked at bugs in the grass, and enjoyed each other’s company. Today they sit golden brown on your table. Do you ever think what happened to them between then and now? They were grabbed and slaughtered.

If a million turkeys were killed, and each turkey had one liter of blood in him or her, that means a million liters of blood was spilled. Do you ever wonder what happens to so much blood? I Googled it and this is what I found:

It is taken to rendering plants with blood processing facilities, or disposed of in sewers (which lead into the nearest water body), in landfills or spread over land. Some amount is used to make human food and animal feed.

Frightening isn’t it, blood is disposed of in sewers that lead into the nearest water body ... that means blood ends up in rivers, lakes, and oceans. So when you swim in a river, lake or ocean, you’re actually swimming in blood.

Equally disgusting is the fact that some blood is used in human food. I Googled that too and found that blood is used in:

Pig or cattle blood is most often used. Typical fillers include meat, fat, suet, bread, rice, barley and oatmeal. Varieties include biroldo, black pudding, blood tongue, blutwurst, drisheen, kishka (kaszanka), morcilla, moronga, mustamakkara, sundae, verivorst, and many types of boudin.

So today, on Thanksgiving, don’t just give thanks for family, friends and all the good things you enjoy in life, thank the turkey who gave his life, for you. 

   

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Day 58: Why I chose a condor for my first tattoo

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 58: Why I chose a condor for my first tattoo

Yesterday I mentioned that I would explain why a chose a condor for my first tattoo as a condor is not an obvious choice. Let’s face it, a condor is an ugly bird, and if young girls are compared to pretty birds than older women are ugly birds. As such, I’m an ugly bird.

But there is another reason why I chose a condor tattoo.

Many years ago, I started playing ten-pin bowling tournaments. I was not exactly champion material, but I wasn’t a bad player either. My average was 175 with an occasional 200+ and a top score of 257.  

In tournaments, however, I went to pieces. All my opponent had to do was give me a dirty look, ignore me, or say “You’re gonna lose” and my confidence went from 100 to zero in two seconds flat.

How it happened exactly I can’t remember, but I came across a picture of a condor. As mentioned earlier not exactly a pretty bird, but definitely a bird to be feared. And for some reason, I started to identify with this bird.

From then on, whenever I stood on the approach, I was no longer Conny, I was ... the condor. Now, at the start of a tournament, or even just a practice game, I imagined the condor, waiting to take flight. 

As the condor, I might not be the most beautiful bowler, but I would soar to new heights and I was to be feared. 

And it worked. A few years ago, Dieter (a.k.a. Raven) and I took first place at a Halloween tournament and we took first place in the league.

Dieter and I no longer play league or tournaments, but we do bowl every Saturday morning. We have a mini-competition going, just for the fun of it. Do I beat him? ... hardly, he’s way better than me. He’s got a 200 average while I only have a 175 average. But occasionally, I do manage to snatch a game from him or manage to come close.

To learn more about the condor and see some great photos.

https://www.chimuadventures.com/blog/2016/07/andean-condor/

http://justfunfacts.com/interesting-facts-about-california-condors/

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Day 57: I did it!

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 57: I did it!

I did it! I got my first tattoo. For years now I wanted a tattoo but a number of reasons held me back.

Like most people, I’d seen tattoo parlors on TV and they looked, to say the least, dark scary places manned by rough-looking men. You know the type, big, bald, burly men with dark glasses and facial hair, in other words, people you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.  

Another thing that scared me were the possible dangers. I’d heard of people getting infected by HIV and hepatitis due to dirty needles or contaminated ink.

And then last but not least, the pain. Getting pricked by a needle a few hundred times seemed like a mild case of torture. In short, why would anyone take the chance and do this to themselves?

Then last week Dora S. posted a picture on Facebook of her first tattoo and I thought ... If she can do it, I can do it.

I went online, searched for tattoo places in Toronto and was presented with a string of possibilities. After having dismissed a few, because I didn’t like the look of them, I found Black Line Studio https://blacklinestudios.ca/

We exchanged a few emails and I sent them a picture of the tattoo I had in mind. 

I got an appointment for the following Wednesday. Since Dieter was on vacation he would accompany me (for moral support).

When I arrived at Black Line Studio I couldn’t have been more surprised. This tattoo parlor was nothing like I’d seen on TV. It wasn’t dark and dodgy but modern and full of light. Neither was there any sign of big, bald, scary-looking men. I was greeted by a friendly stylish looking receptionist.

I got another surprise when I met the artist (Victoria) who would do my tattoo ... a pretty young girl in jeans and an oversized sweater was a mass of long wild curls. This was a tattoo artist? She looked like someone’s favorite cupcake baker.

Much to my disappointment, I couldn’t get my tattoo right there and then. This was merely a consultation and then (if I didn’t chicken out) I could get the tattoo at a later date. We set a date for the following Friday.

And so today was D-day.

Before getting started, Victoria showed me her version of the picture I had presented her with. Hm, to tell you the truth, I had reservations. This didn’t look like a condor, this looked like an oversized turkey. 

But I was there, I had given my deposit, so I might as well go through with it.

Victoria got busy. Without going into too much detail, there was no cause for concern of a dirty needle or contaminated ink as everything was new and sterile. Even the armrest was wrapped in plastic and Victoria wore gloves.

As for the pain ... not worth mentioning. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would say ... 2. I felt something, but I wouldn’t actually call it pain, more like a bit of irritation.

After the initial excitement it actually got quite boring, Victoria seemed to know what she was doing, so I read my book and enjoyed a cup of coffee.

And then suddenly the humming of the pen grew quiet, I had a look and my tattoo was finished.

I’m very happy with the result. As you can see, the tattoo doesn’t resemble an oversized turkey but a proper condor. At the moment the tattoo is still covered with a type of protective plastic. This will come off in 48 hours. 

Before leaving, the receptionist and another tattoo artist/master gave me instructions for aftercare ... special soap and a pure vitamin E cream.

In case you're wondering why I chose a condor ... well, come back tomorrow and all will be revealed.

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Dag 48: Halley and the little bird

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Dag 48: Halley and the little bird

To feed the wild birds, we hang a seed bell on the outside of the balcony netting. Morning, noon and evening various birds land on the bell and peck to their heart's content.

While some birds eat in peace and quiet, there is one little fellow who’s a real loudmouth. He’s the smallest bird that visits the bell, but he can be heard all over the place. Whether I’m in the kitchen, bathroom or bedroom, when he visits I know about it.

Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who hears him, so do the cats. While Charlotte and Holly couldn’t care less, Greyson and Halley run like hell when they hear of his arrival.

If you think the little bird is scared of the cats, think again, he sits there on the bell, taunting Halley and Greyson. It’s like he knows they can’t get to him and he takes full advantage of it.

Today was no different, the loudmouth got hungry, paid a visit to the bell and started chirping his little heart out. Halley raced outside and jumped on the ledge to take a closer look. While Halley looked at the bird, the bird looked at Halley.

Changing to stealth mode, Halley crept closer and closer, no doubt wondering what this bird would taste like as an early lunch. I told her to save herself the trouble. This bird was little more than bones and feathers. I mean, if she was stalking a pigeon, I could understand her quest, but this bird was even smaller than a canary.

Still, Halley crept forward, eyeing her prey, all the while chattering. 

“If you want to catch him," I told her (not that she could because of the netting), “you better keep your mouth shut.” I do wonder though what she was saying … “Hold on birdie?”, “Sit still birdie?”, or “I’m coming for you.” Whatever it was, it didn’t work. After the bird had his dinner he hopped off the bell and flew away.

Halley stared after the birdie. Visibly disappointed. I could have comforted her with 'Better luck next time' but that is not gonna happen. Not now, not ever. The safety netting will see to that.  
        

Oh, this blows!!!

Hi, my name is Holly, and I’ll be your guest blogger for today. Unlike other bloggers who have humans write a guest post for them, I am a cat. So, whatever comes next is from a cats’ perspective. I thought I should share the following with you because I’m really, really upset.

It’s a beautiful sunny day here in Toronto and I’m not allowed to go out on the balcony. Why? One word … birds.

It all started about three months ago. A pair of finches came to check out the balcony and apparently liked what they saw because soon after they started building a nest. One of them deposited six eggs in the nest and shortly afterward six chicks were born. I didn’t care much about them because I couldn’t get to them anyway, but I could wait. 

Those chicks would grow, in due time they would leave their nest and when they did I would be ready. I’ve never caught a bird before, but come on, with six birds to choose from, I was bound to catch one.

As it turned out, I didn’t get any of the little suckers. They flew the nest while I was still sleeping. I didn’t know this at first, but during the course of the day I didn’t see the parents fly in and out anymore, nor did I hear the little ones chirping. I had missed my chance and let me tell you, I was disappointed.

As luck would have it, two or three weeks later the two finches came back. This time they didn’t have to build a nest, they used the old one, and before long there were five eggs in it.

As soon as the chicks hatched I resolved that this time I would catch one. If I had to sit on the balcony day and night, eat and sleep there, this time they wouldn’t pull a fast one on me. So I waited, and waited, and waited.

The parent finches flew to and fro, bringing food for the babies and day by day they grew. Yesterday I noticed that the babies were getting ready to fly off. They were getting too big, the nest was getting too small, and they were getting restless. Yes, soon I would have a bird for breakfast, lunch or dinner. If they weren't quite a meal, then an appetizer. 

And would you believe it, while I used the litter box today, one of those babies flew away. I could have kicked myself. All that time waiting, and now that I had turned my back for two minutes, I missed one. Never mind though, there were four more.

Unfortunately, Conny (my owner), had noticed too that the babies were getting ready to fly off, so what did she do … she closed the balcony door. Not the glass door as such, but the netting. Now I couldn’t get out!!!

I had to do something. I had to come up with a plan. Clever me, I didn’t have to think long, I would turn on the charm. I positioned myself by the balcony door and sat there for, I don’t know, five, ten, fifteen minutes. When she didn’t come to open the door for me, I looked over my shoulder and gave a soft meow. Usually, that does the trick, but not this time. She either ignored me or she wouldn’t let me out. So I meowed a little louder, with more feeling, but still nothing. When I meowed again, she said “No Holly, you can’t go out today. The birds are about to fly away.”

But that’s the whole point, I tried to say. I have to be out there so when they fly I can catch one. She shook her head and walked away. Oh for the love of all that’s good and decent, why was she doing this to me? Oh, this blows!!!

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How to Overcome Insomnia

Cats are masters of relaxation. They can sleep anytime, anywhere, in just about any position.

With humans it’s a little different.

Some people go to bed because it’s that time of the night and hope they fall asleep quickly. Some manage quite well, others toss and turn, others still fall asleep within minutes but wake up at night and can’t go back to sleep.

While some have no problem reaching for sleeping pills, others prefer a more natural way of catching those zzzzzzz’s.

Experts recommend chamomile tea, relaxing music, ocean or river sounds, whale sounds, bird songs, breathing techniques, or toe tapping.

Personally I have tried them all and these are my findings:

Chamomile: doesn’t work for me at all. I’ve even tried two tea bags in a cup to make the brew extra strong, but I was as awake at 3:00 a.m. as I was at 11:00 a.m. As an added disadvantage, I had to get up several times during the night to go to the washroom.

Relaxing music: this didn’t work because in my mind I was singing along with the song and when I switched to instrumental only, I found myself thinking of dance or ice-skating routines.

Ocean and river sounds: this had the same effect as chamomile tea. Not only could I not fall asleep, I had to get up several times to use the loo. In addition, the crashing waves made me think of boats capsizing and people drowning.

Whale sounds: this I found fairly relaxing, but my cats didn’t. As soon as the CD started producing the whale sounds, my cats appeared to be spooked. Those who were already sleeping on my bed jumped up and ran from the room.

Bird songs: perhaps you can imagine what kind of effect this had on the cats. From the first chirp, they were on high alert. They seemed to think that the birds were in the room, and were determined to find them. From the bed they jumped onto the nightstand, on the linen closed, on top of the bookcases and even the windowsill. Those birds drove them nuts. Of course, this made sleeping for me impossible.

Breathing techniques: this could have worked if it was not for Holly. With this type of technique you’re suppose to inhale for four seconds, hold your breath for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds. I did this and found it relaxing, but suddenly I felt a weight on my chest. When I opened my eyes I found Holly staring down on me like I was an alien. Her facial expression was comical, as if she was thinking “What the heck are you doing?”

Toe tapping: Experts say that toe tapping is very effective to relieve headaches, insomnia, tension and fatigue. While I don’t doubt it, I would not recommend doing this with cats on the bed. I tried it, with rather painful results. As I started the toe tapping, Charlotte saw something move under the duvet and decided to catch whatever it was. You can probably imagine what happened … exactly, she launched herself at my feet and bit my big toe.

All things considered, I think it’s best to just lay back and stroke a cat. The feel of its soft fur, combined with the cats’ purring noises has a relaxing effect too and might just result in sleep.

Do ostriches like potato salad

The other day I came across an article entitled “10 Surprising Facts About Earths Biggest Birds”. 
(http://tinyurl.com/q7yhre2). The article was referring to ostriches and while interesting, the article didn’t mention that ostriches are immensely fond of chicken, tomatoes and potato salad. Are you doubting me? Don’t, I have personal experience on the subject. Here’s what happened …

Continue reading at:

http://connymanero.weebly.com/blog/do-ostriches-like-potato-salad

Goodbye to Zorro

About 24 hours ago, Zorro crossed Rainbow Bridge and left his family devastated.  He was only 8 years old and in perfect health. 

I never met Zorro, but I saw pictures of him and read about his daily adventures.  Okay, so he didn’t have “daily” adventures, being a Ragdoll his favorite pastime was sleeping (in all kinds of weird positions). 

But every now and then he would wake up long enough to tell an interesting story.  The most memorable being …

Zorro the Ragdoll Cat Meets a Roadrunner

My name is Zorro, and I'm a five-year-old Ragdoll breed cat. Never heard of us? You wouldn't be alone, yet we are one of the most popular breeds in the U.S. They call us the cats that are most like a dog. (Sheesh! What an insult.) So what if I do like to follow my mom around and even wait by the door until she returns. Why not? I have the time. It's not as though I'm not making an intelligent choice, unlike a stupid dog that gets all pouty just because he's been left alone for ten minutes.

Mostly, I suck up as much attention as my inflated ego can handle. Humans describe a Ragdoll's personality as laid-back, but we can be feisty, too! I'll protect my turf against any invading species. Read on and you'll see what I mean. (Disney is negotiating with my mom over the rights to my story.)

Let's start at the beginning.

My mom was in the kitchen doing whatever it is she does there that does not involve preparing my food dish. We had only been in our new home for a couple of weeks. I was starting to feel right at home and pretty much approved of the change. I loved the big glass doors where I could lay comfortably and look out over the patio while watching noisy birds gather all day in the desert willow tree fighting over sips at the hummingbird feeder.

My tummy was full and I was relaxed in my favorite belly exposed position, legs up in the air. I'm rarely very far from mom. (Don't ask me why, it's a Ragdoll 'thing.') I was dozing off when I opened one eye and saw her sneaking towards the glass doors. Humans often behave in strange and mysterious ways, so her behavior didn't seem overly odd.

It was only when I heard her pick-up the phone to call dad that I knew something was up. "Honey, guess what I saw on the patio this morning?" I heard her say. "A roadrunner! I heard a tap-tap-tap on the window, and when I glanced over, there it was looking in the window at me."

And what did Zorra do to the roadrunner?  Hop over to http://www.helium.com/items/1613988-short-story-ragdoll-cat-meets-a-roadrunner, the answer is just a click away.

Yes, Zorro was a character.  But he was also very sweet and polite.  Want to read what his mom says about him?  

Our Ragdoll breed cat, Zorro, is just the sweetest, laid-back kind of guy you would ever want to snuggle with on your bed or have sandpaper lick your hand. Typical of the breed, he loves his people family more than his Fancy Feast. (Or, at least we come in a very close second.)

His breed is often referred to as the most like a dog,' so when we adopted him at one-year of age, he did seem to lack many typical cat traits. How many cats do you know that come and greet you at the door? Or, how many cats do you know that will follow you around the house? Instead of calling him Zorro, I wonder if Rover might have suited him better.

There’s more.  Click http://www.helium.com/items/1410962-why-should-i-get-a-cat and find out.

Goodbye Zorro, you left us too soon, but I'm sure that wherever you are, you're happy

For all animal lovers

Absolutely no words necessary