I love animals. Big, small, slimy, furry…you name it. I’ve owned lots of them over the years. When your dog or cat gets too ill to go on, you take him to the vet and have him euthanized, right? When your fish gets too ill to go on, you take him out of the tank and flush him down the toilet, right? So, what do you do when your MOUSE gets too ill to go on? Now you see the problem.Valrhona has always kind of been a nasty little mouse. She always reaches out of the cage and tries to bite you. She succeeded once. But she’s cute. And she and her sister, Godiva, get along fabulously. But last night we pulled the cage off of its shelf to clean, and noticed something absolutely horrifying. Poor Val, who was perfectly healthy the last time we cleaned the cage (a week and a half ago?) had a tumor the size of a golf ball on her backside. Not exaggerating about the size, this thing is about half her body weight.
I can’t believe I didn’t notice anything sooner, but I suppose I’ve been busy, and when I fed and watered them, I didn’t wait for her to come out before leaving. Granted, poor Val’s reached old age: she’s over two at this point. Godiva is even turning gray. But what do you do to put the poor thing out of her misery?!? We tried looking up mouse euthanasia, but all we came up with were quotes like “I know it sounds gross, but if you can hit them over the head with the handle of a screwdriver…”No, thanks.We even called the vet next door to see what he suggested. He said that he used to place them in CO2 chambers, but unless we had access to a CO2 cartridge, he was out of suggestions. So, we decided to let her have what she’s always wanted: freedom. Marcus took the cage outside and left it open. When she began to explore, he just came back inside to wait it out. A little later, he went back out to retrieve the cage, and Val was sitting in her house! So, now we’ve decided to let nature take its course. It won’t take long for her at the rate this thing is apparently growing, but it’s sad to see her in such a state.
Stupid people drive me nuts. I just got off the phone with my mother, who works at the largest nursing home in the state (more about that place later). She wanted to tell me about one of the employees there who had pissed her off this morning. It happens to be someone I know, even though I haven’t worked there in two and a half years and they’ve got a pretty high turnover. ANYWAY…on with the story.
This woman (who shall remain nameless) has six Pomeranians. She’s bred them a decent number of times, and sold the offspring. Ok, so there are a decent number of people who do this, but I’ve really come to believe that it should seriously be left to the pros. What upsets me is that she told my mother this morning that she got a Siberian Husky. I’m of the opinion that it takes a certain type of nutcase to own Sibes. That’s why we’ve got two. My mom asked if she knew that we have Mika and Shadow, and the woman said something to the effect of “Yes, I remember them. They’re kind of what got me interested in Huskies. They’re so beautiful, don’t you think?”
Mom said that she couldn’t contain herself, so she asked how much research this woman had done into the breed before buying the dog. The reply? Exactly as expected: “Research? What do you mean?” Mom told her about how hyper Mika and Shadow are, and she said that she knew they got hyper, so she was going to let hers play in her fenced in back yard, and that she was going to buy it a 10 x 10 “play yard” to be in sometimes. Mom asked how she was going to be able to handle the dog blowing coat, and she said “What’s that?” Mom mentioned to her that it would be dangerous to let the dog off lead, and she said “Oh, not MY dog. She got loose once and came back when we called. She loves us. She’d never run away.” I wonder how long it’s going to be before she has six dead Pomeranians. I’ll bet she doesn’t know about their prey drive, either.
Grr.
The best part of all of this? She plans to get a SECOND Sibe and start breeding THEM, too. She says it’s ok, because they’ve got papers.
Once again…GRR.
Mom told her a bit about Mika and Shadow’s breeding and told her about how we had to sign papers stating that we wouldn’t show or breed our dogs, and that we’d have them fixed. Her reply to that one? “Ohh…sounds like they got taken in on that one. Now THOSE dogs come from a puppy mill. THAT’S a woman that just wants to make money off of her dogs!” Later on, Mom was venting to a co-worker about the stupidity of said woman, which is when she found out: this woman gets her dogs AT A FLEA MARKET.
For a third, and last, time:
GRR.
Here goes, folks. My first real foray into the world of blogging. I’ve always liked the idea of putting pen to paper, as evidenced by the 15 or so journals I’ve got partially full right now. I still think I’m going to put my most private thoughts on paper–where YOU ALL can’t see them. But for everything else, I’ll drop it here. Hope no one gets too bored. 