supposed to write a blog tonight. can’t say i’m terribly inspired to do so. for some reason, i’ve decided it needs to be about something, and there begins the problem. pre-conceived notions, or lack thereof. my task most of the time is stream of consciousness, an unedited, unrehearsed, therapeutic style of expression. therapeutic in that i exorcise myself of garbage. like the computer lessons of old, something to do with “garbage out”. speaking of which, i left a pastured chicken on the counter too long last night with the purpose of bringing it to room temperature, which it maintained for more hours than is healthy. afraid to cook and eat the damn thing, Mahsh wraps it in a black plastic trash bag and delivers it to our outside trash can, where it will have until Tuesday to transform into a putrid rotting flesh carcass. i can’t wait to smell it! speaking of black trash bags, this has nothing to do with them. black electrical tape, actually. there was a stray cat who had wound up at my house when i lived in Lancaster, TX, in third or fourth grade. it was injured with a broken front leg, bent and dragging on the ground. the dragging produced a constantly festering wound which we (my family) began to doctor, usually by applying ointment, gauze, and some medical tape to hold it together. the bandage would become worn and useless after a few days of dragging. a neighbor decided to help by administering the same dressing, only instead of using medical tape, he used electrician’s tape. the electrician’s tape cut off oxygen, or air, or whatever had allowed this condition to exist in a fairly stable state, and the wound became infected, dead, rotten, maggot-filled, disgusting. amputation followed (by a vet) and Kitty became our three-legged cat. speaking of pets, i grew up in the country, where strays, when unwanted, were driven far away. when pets became sick, or injured beyond recovery, they were shot. some actually got to die of old age, or slow disease. but any elongated suffering was dealt with by shooting the beast, putting it out of its misery. i’m amazed at the shift in attitudes toward pets, and vets, and operations, and drugs, etc. i empathize with wanting to take care of your pet. i understand the relationship and responsibility one assumes by being a pet “owner”. but, come on?! i read an article about a man who went to jail for shooting his dog after it had been hit by a car. i think that might drive me mad. have we achieved such mastery of ourselves that we now feel obligated to protect, nurture, and medicate our animals? feeding an industry similar to our own medical industry: bloated, backwards, and many times, ineffective. maybe we do for our pets what we can’t do for ourselves. perhaps human ambition has evolved (?) to the point where we would like to be lap dogs or house cats. regularly fed, stroked, and sheltered.
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Tags: air, cats, chicken, country, electrical tape, garbage, pets, wounds, writing
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