Cowboy And Rooster, Continued

  I got a call from Seal. They were going to put Cowboy down. I told him not to wait for me, but to stop his suffering as soon as possible. I walked back to the vets' and went inside. But I couldn't make myself go through the door. I walked around the lobby once and then went through the door. Cowboy was immediately in front of me on the little stretcher, and the doctor was giving him the sedative and then the kill shot. I laid my hand on him. I thought I saw him open his eyes momentarily. Then the doctor put away her stethoscope, quietly saying, "He's gone." I broke again and left the room. Another vet was on the floor with a dog and his owners discussing what would have to be done for the dog. I went right through them without an "excuse me" because I didn't think I could get the words out. Not yet realizing that being without Paxil for at least two days was why I was breaking down, I searched for a reason. Several years ago, I had visited Page, our little rat terrier we rescued one cold January night near the New River, Florida. After we had raised her for several years, she and several other dogs were bitten by a timber rattlesnake. They killed the snake, but one dog did not survive his bite. Page was bitten in the chest, and when I visited her at the vets, she was so swollen from the snake's toxins that her eyes were shut. I stayed with her a while, talking to her, and when I left I had tears in my eyes. But why so emotional today with Cowboy?
  I had first seen dogs dying when Katey, our young Irish Setter, was poisoned when I was a young boy. My father, mother, and I stood and watched as she went through convulsions and eventually died. I was too young then to know that my cheap father should have been calling the vet and taking her in. By the time I was eleven, I had finally talked my father into allowing me to have a beagle puppy. We had a kennel of beagles. However, he brought a new dog into our kennel who turned out to have distemper. My father, not wanting to spend money on shots, had left our dogs unprotected. I think my puppy was the first dog who got the distemper. I found him lying in the kennel, having convulsions. My father gave me a lead pipe and said to kill him. He had to be put out of his misery. Again, he wasn't going to waste any precious money taking my puppy to the vet's and having him do it humanely. Instead, at eleven years old, I had to bludgeon my puppy to death. Why didn't my father, supposedly the adult in the house, do it? Who knows?
I think he didn't care about the psychological trauma to me. I think he wanted to see if I could handle it and was secretly disappointed when I could without him physically forcing me to. He'd rather use the lead pipe on me. Soon my puppy's mother and other beagles were lieing on the ground, barely alive. I had to kill and bury them too. - To Be Continued.  Be of good cheer. There is a heaven. Earth is just a bloody place to work on improving our character or helping others to do so. Two-Guns

Cowboy And Rooster

  Saturday, I felt guilty about listening to the beginning of the Florida-South Carolina game and made myself read a little before returning to it. As I read Monica Crowley's "What The (Bleep) Just Happened Here?"
I wondered why I hadn't fallen to sleep until dawn. Was it just the coke? Then I started feeling overwhelmed by the evilness of Barack Obama - the misery of collectivism for you and me but not for his family, friends, and him. They'll enjoy being the millionaires they publicly demonize to the stupid masses. Contrary to Monica Crowley's upbeat writing, I felt that the good were just too emotionally weak to overcome the strengths of the evil and the stupidity and avarice of the jackasses who vote for the evil. Wow! Why was I so down? Later, I would realize that I hadn't taken my Paxil for two days, at least. I was taking it first thing in the morning with my high blood pressure pill, but had changed my routine. Consequently, I was forgetting the pills. Just as I was about to go back to the game, Bulletproof called. Cowboy was very ill, and they were on the way to the vets. Cowboy was about a ten year old yellow-white lab we had raised from a baby. I shaved, showered, batten down all the hatches and hurried out. I found Bulletproof and Seal in the examining room.  The doctor was filling them in on the details from her examination of Cowboy. I worry that Bulletproof prolongs the dogs' lives so I asked the main question, as far as I was concerned, "Is he in pain?"
  "Some. He was moaning just a few minutes ago." I immediatley said, "Then he needs to be put to sleep." Seal agreed with me. "Just hold on a minute!" Bulletproof yelled at me. Later she apologizzed twice for that. "Not so fast! I just lost Tessa!" Tessa was Cowboy's mother. Bulletproof broke down sobbing, " Life is so unfair. There is no God!" When she regained her compusure, the doctor said, "His stomach is full of new blood and using (some kind of instrument) I was able to see that his spleen had ruptured from cancer." Then she began, albeit unenthusiastically, saying what could be done. Still, she shaked her head no. It was obvious Cowboy was at the end of his ride. "Would you like to see him now, " she asked. Of course. She left and then wheeled Cowboy in on a little stretcher. He was conscious but very weak. He didn't even raise his head. As soon as I petted him, I began falling apart. I didn't want anyone to see me that way so I left the vets' building and started walking down the street trying to stop crying. It seemed that everyone I saw was either walking a dog or standing near their dog in their yards. I pitied the hell they would go through as dogs are so short-lived. To Be Continued, Two-Guns.

Three Black Pumas and One Bigfoot

Getting out in the field recently, I talked with an older gentleman who worked as a mechanic's helper repairing automobiles. The place he worked was in a very rural area so I asked him about seing black panthers. He had seen three in his life, all crossing roads in North Central Florida toward the Gulf of Mexico. He said one panther crossed the road at a tremendous speed. They were all-black. He had not seen or heard of a Bigfoot sighting.
  In addition, I was talking to a Bigfoot friend, Quiet Voice, in South Florida. He had received a sighting by a woman riding her horse in the jungle-woods. She saw a Bigfoot standing in the trail ahead of her. Her horse saw him too and began spinning, trying to avoid going any closer. After the first spin, the Bigfoot walked off the trail and disappeared into the jungle. Quiet Voice got into the area, but before he got to the place of the sighting, he was in water up to his chest. He turned back. You not only have to worry about quick mud, alligators, and cottonmouths in the water in South Florida, but now seventeen foot pythons. You wouldn't win against a python that long unless you could get to a fixed blade knife and start cutting before he wrapped you up. It's been an unusually rainy summer in Florida. The good news is that the lakes are beginning to fill back up and boats can get into them for fishing.
  I listened to a recording of a Bigfoot near A.P. Hill, Virginia walking through the woods at night. The tape recorder was left there unattended. This recording was at the Bigfoot Field Research Organization's website. You could clearly hear him tramping by. It was a huge noise and what struck me is that he never missed a beat. If you or I were walking through the woods at night, we would be faltering and stumbling. Not this Bigfoot. I couldn't help wondering if I would have the nerve to stay by that tape recorder even if I had an elephant gun. It was obvious that he owned the woods. If you or your friends have any sightings of either black pumas or Bigfoot, please call me at 352-359-0850. Thanks, Two-Guns.

Obama's First Step In Fencing Us In

  So Obama has gone from stopping the rise of the oceans and healing the earth to wanting to deny companies that go overseas their moving deductions on their taxes. Now that's really attempting to solve the offshore problem! Why are companies moving out of America? First, you have the corporate tax rate of 35 percent, only the highest in the world. Then you have the Obama- kiss- of- death: the number and rate of federal regulations have increased so greatly under ObamaDestruction that the founder of Microsoft, I believe it was, came out the other day and said he couldn't have begun the company under the present anti-business regulations. So what is Obama's solution for this: Deny companies their tax deductions in moving if they are leaving America . You heard it Tuesday night in the town hall quasi-debate with Mitt Romney. So now we are going to penalize companies, which are nothing more than groups of individuals, if they want to leave America. Do you see the first step toward a fence that will keep people from getting out of Absurdistan? I do. Of course, it will be a fence only for the productive companies and individuals. We must keep them in America to feed off them like parasites using the taxation system. But if you want to get into America to live here illegally or even to blow us up with suitcase nuclear bombs, why that fence doesn't exist for you. Pass on through!  There's a kiosk with free food and drink and applications for the all the entitlements  right there, courtesy of the productive shmucks who don't have the courage and determination to try to stop the craziness. Right now, Obama's hoping to fence in companies. You will be next. Best wishes, Two-Guns

Romney, Growl Back At Jackass!

  Congratulations, Romney. You scored a knockout in the first fight. I hope you have enjoyed the victory while you could because the second fight is Tuesday. Biden in his fight with Ryan has telegraphed some of the punches Jackass may try on you. At least twice, Biden told Ryan forcefully that the news the White House gave out was based on intelligence reports and was modified as the intelligence reports were modified.
Biden did not challenge that, partially, I think, becuase he was snookered by Biden's macho, low, forceful voice. Don't you be with Jackass. Expect his voice to have all of the above with a bit of malevolence in it to intimidate you. Don't be. Any man who doesn't want to provide aid to babies born in spite of an abortion attempt being done on them is not a man. Not an Ameican man. I know more forceful men than he. Men who have gone to war not to the golf course and parties. To gear myself up to meet their authority and to pick up anything that might not be true, I visualize a large turd of bullshit coming out of their mouth. Then I look for that turd as they talk. When I see it, I confront it. These are men man enough to admit a mistake or exaggeration. They haven't hurt me, and Obama is not going to hurt you. He'll just get slack-faced. Go into the fight knowing you are going to see  large turds  of bullsit coming out of his mouth and know that you are going to confront each turd. But you must sound different than Ryan. Ryan sounded like a yippy little dog trying to bay up the old boar. All Biden had to do was growl, and the emotional impression was that Biden ruled the room. You don't want that. All your true adult-to-adult confrontations, which again you must do, will mean nothing if they are said in a yippy voice. We are emotional animals, Romney. Increasingly so
with the social conditioning of public schools. You have to speak in a low, masculine, macho, grave voice at Jackass. Your growl has to be more authoritative than his. With what, four sons, there has to have been times when you have had to assume that voice with them to put an end to the arguements that would go forever otherwise. You must growl back when Jackass growls at you. You must make a point of it because he already has a lower voice than you. Concentrate. If you yip when he gowls, he's top dog, and you're a little hot dog. And America's toast for another four years. Good luck. Come out swinging and never, ever stop as long as he's standing. There's too much weighing on your victory. We need another knockout.  I'll be rooting for you. Two-Guns.
P.S. Jackass may try what Biden did on Ryan: told Ryan, he was sick of the two of you (Ryan and Romney) downing America. Don't let him triangle you against Amerca. Tell him you are downing what he's doing to America. Then list them: six trillion dollar increase in our national debt, gas prices doubled, grocery store prices sky-rocketing, more people unemployed now than when he was elected. Of course, as you list the hell he is putting America through, you growl. No yipping! Be very aware of that because it will be the normal, unconscious reaction to his growl. He knows it so watch for it to come. Meet it as the lion, not the terrier.

Sick Or Injured Blue Jay

  I came home from posting at the library and thought I saw movement as I opened the gate at the lane. I walked over and there was a blue jay hiding by flattening himself under some tall grass. I wanted to give him a chance so I walked away and observed him scuttling away along the side of the garage. The next day, I went back and found his body. He had apparently been feeding where I put out bird seed, corn, and dog kibble. It's a very popular spot with the cardinals, the ground and mourning doves, and the blue jays. I took the jay and threw him onto the side of the lane where  opossums and feral cats roam at night. As soon as I did that, I remembered that the county's sentinel chickens had just picked up the West Nile virus. Worried that the jay died of that or some other avian flu, I compulsively washed my hands for a while. I could see nothing grossly wrong with the jay when I picked him up and wonder about the cause of his death. It is the first death I've seen at my feeding station which I have had for a few years.
  I waited a few days before discussing Tessa's death with Bulletproof. She admitted she had been hit extra hard by the death of this dog. When you have thirty dogs, death comes all too often. She thinks the cause of death was stomach cancer and says there are types of cancer that do not cause a high white blood count.
  If you or a friend has a bigfoot or black panther sighting,  please call me at 352-359-0850. Thanks, Two-Guns.

Critique of "Rainy Brain, Sunny Brain"

  Elaine Fox, author of "Rainy Day, Sunny Brain" (2012) oversold her book with the subtitle of " How To
Retrain Your Brain To Overcome Pessimism and Achieve a Positive Outlook." I was forewarned when she gushed about the the great hope and optimism brought by Obama's election and Nelson Mandela's presidency in South Africa. She omitted the facts that Obama has increased our national debt more than the "unpatriotic" amount Bush had increased the national debt and there are more people unemployed now than when Obama entered office. Likewise, she ommitted the fact that Mandela and his wife drove around to ranches owned by whites, saw the one they wanted, and had the owners, a white couple in their seventies, I  believe, booted out. Mandela spent 26 years in jail because of racism only to become a racist himself when he had control of the force and violence of the government.
  Suffering from several anxiety disorders and their attendant depression, I was hopeful that Elaine Fox was going to review the latest experiments and then give concrete exercises I could use to overcome anxiety and pessimism. Like Obama and Mandela, she gave only half the story - the psychological experiments which were very positive. However, I do not live in a psychology department of an university. How could I adapt these experiments for my use at home? This is what she should have answered and didn't. In not doing this, she didn't do what the book proclaimed it was going to do. Just as a bad piece of pie makes you forego any more of the pie, I now have doubts about the entire book. What a loss for fellow sufferers, Elaine Fox, and me! Two-Guns