words to live by...

"When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one and a lily with the other." - a Chinese proverb

bad trends and sad situations at the animal control shelter...

"The greatness of a nation can be judged by the way its animals are treated." - Mahatma Gandhi

If you can judge a county using the same criteria, then Barrow County has work to do, starting with the resources and attention our community and our county government pay to Barrow County Animal Control.   

The first issue is funding. In 2008, before the economy tanked, the Animal Control budget was $587,000. In 2011, it was $438,500; that's a 25 percent cut in four years. This year's budget is $420,200, an additional $18,300 slashed since last year. During the same period, calls for service remained basically stable at around 4,000 per year. (There were 500 less calls for service in 2011, as compared to 2010.)

This means the people at Animal Control are having to do much more with much less and this is taking its toll on the quality and quantity of services we receive, as well as our public safety. Compare 2011 figures to those from 2010, and you'll see about a 42 percent decrease in vicious animal (179 Vs 313) and cruelty to animal case investigations (271 Vs 453.)

You will also see the number of citations issued cut in half (329 Vs 650.) Court fines (income for the county) fell by 52 percent ($17,494 in 2011; $36, 443 in 2010.) Requests for compliance, were also down 33 percent (444 Vs 718.)

What this means is we are getting less service, both animals and people are getting less protection, and the people at Animal Control are increasingly stuck between a rock and a hard place, due to cuts in payroll funds and overtime allowances. (Salary expenditures for Animal Control have been cut by 24 percent since 2008 and overtime has been slashed to almost nothing.)

Shelter visits were up by 500 in 2011, yet only 32 cats and 183 dogs were adopted during the whole year. Some 617 dogs and 985 cats were euthanized; that is a kill rate of 48 percent for dogs and 82 percent for cats. Of course, no one at Animal Control wants to kill pets. A major responsibility to spay/neuter pets, keep them confined and identifiable (collar, rabies tag, microchip), reclaiming lost pets and adopting shelter pets falls squarely on the community's back.

Yet, there are some things at Animal Control that could be changed to help maximize adoptions and reclaims, such as offering evening or weekend hours. Barrow's shelter is the only one in the area that is only open during working hours - Mon., Tues., Thurs., Fri., 8 a.m.-5 p.m. For most people, even visiting the Barrow shelter means taking off work. Realistically, how many people are going to do that?

The Barrow shelter does work with other agencies to arrange rescues. In 2011, 247 shelter dogs went to rescue organizations. Sadly, that was down from 459 dogs rescued in 2010, a 47 percent drop. Cat rescues also fell in 2011, 37 percent, from 459 to 247. Recently, I hear that rescue organizations are having an increasingly hard time transferring animals out of the Barrow shelter. In several incidences, this was because there was no one available to open cages or assist with the transfer paperwork. This is not acceptable, especially given Barrow's high kill rates.

     

Reports of people from the community being treated rudely by shelter staff are also on the rise. I do the "Pets of the Week" feature for this paper, which means visiting the shelter every other week and "talking pets," while out in the community. Sadly, I am hearing more stories that do not shine a positive light on the Barrow shelter visit experience. A look at donations to the shelter also indicates some changes in personnel or policy may need to be made. In 2010, the shelter received $1,275 in donations; that fell to $195 in 2011.  

Let me be clear; I am not criticizing the Animal Control officers or desk personnel. The buck stops higher than that. It stops with the current management and ultimately with the chairman and the board of commissioners. The animals obviously can't speak for themselves, nor can the officers who value their jobs and their benefits. It's up to those of us in the community who care about animals and value public safety, to make it clear to our commissioners that we expect better service from Animal Control.   

Barrow County Roads & Bridges does not have to make a public plea for asphalt donations; nor, do other county departments ask for paper, pens or ink cartridges in order to do their work. Yet, Animal Control makes ongoing requests for basics, such as cat litter and pet food, to stretch their tight budget a little further. Even in a still-troubled local economy, there is much wrong with this picture, especially if you're the dog or cat hoping someone donates food or litter so you can be a little more comfortable until you, in most cases, are euthanized. 

There is only one long term solution to decreasing the local unwanted pet population. It is spay/neuter. Leftover Pets is a local, low cost, non-profit organization providing those services. They also rescue cats and kittens from the Barrow shelter. (ww.leftoverpets.org) Pup & Cat Co. is another local, non-profit rescue that saves animals from the Barrow shelter. (www.pupandcatco.com)  Both could use support. Please, do it for the animals.  

This column was in the 5/16 edition of the Barrow Journal.

"feeling His light on my face..."

"I've found that worry and irritation vanish into thin air the moment I open my mind to the many blessings I possess." - Dale Carnegie

I suffer from what I call "brick-a-brack of the brain." It's the feeling that I have a head full of thoughts, swirling and churning about, and not a one of them is worth thinking. Brain clutter. Noise. I don't know how common this is, but for me it's a near constant state.

Whoever said, "God is in the details," was wrong. Flat out wrong. The details are where the Devil lives, taking our minds off the important things and pricking us with worries, negative thoughts and forgetfulness about our blessings. But, ever so often, the light shines through...    

The other night I was driving back from volunteering as a social worker at Mercy Clinic, a free clinic in Athens, for people without money or insurance. As always, it had been a busy and blessing-filled shift. Many of the clients at Mercy have difficult lives full of challenges beyond their medical conditions. Most of the staff at Mercy is particularly in touch with the Lord. So, you can imagine the miracles that happen there, on an almost  daily basis. I've never been in a place where God's hands are so clearly on everything as they are at Mercy Clinic. Big revelations, small epiphanies, physical and mental healings, spiritual awakenings, all couched in the form of free medical care. It's amazing.

That night I was feeling sad, lonely and a little remorseful. My problems are clearly so small - nothing like a shift at Mercy to make that clear - yet they were overwhelming me. The Devil was along for the ride, pricking my brain with that tiny pitch fork of negativity he uses, telling me to focus on the wrong things, distracting me from looking on the bright side, beating me up for not being in touch with my blessings, making me feel small rather than secure and thankful.

It was raining and I was driving along sobbing, wondering what exactly what I was sobbing about. So, I started praying, more like talking to God, asking him for clarity and calm, a sense of direction and peace, a more clear recognition of all that is right in my life...Sometimes when I do this, I imagine my prayers sound like needy static from an old radio, floating up to Heaven. Other times, God clearly hears and reaches down to calm my heart, slow my mind, and commune with me.    

This particular night He was there and the thought that filled my mind and soothed my sobbing was a simple one. It was that the Lord's love, like the warm light of the sun, is always shining down on me. When I don't feel it, it's not because He's not there. It's because I'm in "brick-a-brack of the brain" mode. My lack of focus, not His.   

That might seem like a minor realization, especially to those who are closer to God, clearer in their faith or more spiritually aware. But to me, it was a new thought and a powerful revelation. He's always there, always. All I have to do to feel his warmth on my face is tune down the static in my mind. Easier said than done, of course, but it's a thought I've been trying to keep close and in many ways He's been helping me.

Relay for Life is coming up and I'm doing a series of stories on this year's honorary ambassadors. There are three each year, people whose battles, fights or journeys with cancer seem to particularly embody the spirit of victory. Last year the ambassadors' stories were fascinating, inspiring, uplifting and encouraging. This year's ambassadors'  stories sound like they will prove to be the same.

The thing about the cancer survivors and their families who I've talked with is how lit up with faith they are, how strong they stand with their Lord, and how He gives them the strength to do things they never, ever thought they could do. There is no "brick-a-brack" in their brains. They have more important things to focus on and their strength, determination and conviction is incredible.

I never liked the notion (1 Corinthians 10:13) that God will not test you beyond your strength. That makes it sound as if people like these strong cancer survivors brought their fight or journey upon themselves by being strong. It also allows people like me to take secret solace in our weakness. The second part of that verse holds the key: "but with your testing He will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” Problems huge and insignificant, His light is always shining on our faces; our challenge is to remember that.  

Meet Precious Zoobie Zoo

"Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you." - Rashi

I hesitate to write another animal column because it feels like I've written quite a few lately. But, short of the fired up pieces about local politics I occasionally generate, the columns about animals seem to be among my readers' favorites. Folks will cross a room or send a note letting me know how much they enjoyed reading about my pets. The last animal column I wrote was after my beloved, rescue Rottweiller Roland died. Every condolence, hug, email, tear or tender story you shared about your furry friends on the heels of that meant a lot to me. I was devastated and it was comforting to know there are so many others who understand that kind of love for an animal.   

Some years ago, when my previous beloved, rescue Rottie died, I was equally devastated. So, the first thing I did was rush out and get not one, but two new dogs. I did it the day after Pru passed - didn't even try to "sit with my pain," as a therapist I once had would say. The dogs were rescues, half-grown female pups; sweet enough, but nothing special, just little Heinz 57 mutts. They are Rosie and Ducky, still with us today.      

A while after getting those  two, I was at the animal shelter for some reason (not to get a dog) and I encountered the most pitiful thing I've ever seen. It was an ancient, blind, Poodle mix who had just been surrendered. She was sitting there, shaking in her cage with a look of sheer terror on her face. I couldn't leave her there; just couldn't do it. So, "Blind Dog" (the only name that ever stuck) came home with me and lived for several more years.

She was small, with a front leg that had been broken and healed bent off to the side. I liked to imagine she was a circus dog who fell during her act and that's what broke her leg. The circus then abandoned her to a serious of bad homes and sad situations. Her cataracts were large and bright; they made her look like she could shine laser beams out of her eyes. And, she didn't smell good. But, we took good care of her and over time, she wiggled her way into our hearts.   

I carried "Blind Dog" around in a backpack at times because she couldn't keep up with the other dogs on walks and was often at risk for being trampled in the house. We took her on outings and she'd ride along in that backpack, sporting a scarf or a little shirt, smiling her big blind smile. She looked like she felt like the Queen of the World as people petted her and told her how cute she was.  

Ending up with "Blind Dog" was a surprise, as I've never been fond of small dogs. But, when she died, she left a surprisingly large hole in our hearts, so we buried her in the back yard, planted a rose bush nearby and got her a  little stone.  As much as I missed her, though, I was never tempted to get another small dog...and then Roland died.

This time I forced myself to "sit with" my pain and grief, so rushing out to get another dog wasn't an option. Pulling weeds ended up being my most soothing and productive grief activity and since our yard had not been weeded for a couple of years, there was plenty of weeds to pull. Last week, I weeded my way to "Blind Dog's" grave, which was badly overgrown and covered by the rose bush we'd put there. It took a while to get the area back in shape and while I worked, I reminisced about "Blind Dog," chatted with her some and told her how I still miss her at times.  

The next day, while taking my Pets of the Week photos for the paper, I encountered another near blind Poodle mix. She was younger than "Blind Dog," much smaller, with no broken leg. She was just as pitiful looking, though, sitting there shaking in her cage. She had been found a badly matted, sick stray, wandering around a parking lot unable to see because of a nasty eye infection. When I met her, she was freshly shaved and bathed, but still looked like a mess. The rescue folks named her "Precious" and it was obvious there was something pretty precious in there, behind all that sadness and fear.

"Precious" looked like my "Blind Dog" in so many ways. I suspected it was more than a coincidence she showed up the day after I'd spent so much time communing with "Blind Dog" at her grave. I told Mr. Clark about her, in passing, and was relieved to hear she'd been placed in a foster home that very day. Then, that night (admittedly with a couple of glasses of wine on board) I swear, I heard the voice of "Blind Dog" in my heart, telling me to go get that dog, which, of course, I did.  

"Precious" is now sleeping contentedly at my feet in her new dog bed. She is wearing one of "Blind Dog's" shirts, a little purple one that had been my favorite, so I kept it after "Blind Dog" died. "Zoobie," as we've started calling her, is on a bunch of medicines, special food, and has to have medicated baths, but, as Mr. Clark says, "at least she can see." She's a tiny thing, still tentative and insecure, but you can tell she has a lot of love to give and she's getting more comfortable all the time.

Officially we're only fostering "Precious Zoobie" until her forever home can be found, but I've already bought her a backpack and I think we all know how this story will end...

"an invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break." - an ancient chinese belief

surviving the "stay-cation"

"I got gaps; you got gaps; we fill each other's gaps." - Rocky

Mr. Clark took some time off for a "stay-cation" last week and I'm proud to say we survived it. Vacations are easy to not only survive, but enjoy - they're all fun, new places and excitement. "Stay-cations," on the other hand, mostly involve work - work around the house, work in the yard, extra meals, extra dishes, extra laundry, etc. If you want to find out how comfortable you've grown with the spaces in your marriage, spend a week together doing not such pleasant things. It will become obvious, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

Our "stay-cation" was challenging because our house is big, our yard is bigger and both are a mess. Also, Mr. Clark's job involves being gone most of the time, which means I've gotten used to being by myself. I have routines and it's hard to give them up, even for a week, even for the sake of spending "quality time" with my beloved. He likes music in the morning; I like NPR. He likes cooking; I don't like a kitchen mess. He likes listening to baseball; I don't like sports.

None of these differences are substantial and for that I am thankful and well-blessed. However, in the absence of substantial differences, minor ones seem bigger. After 33 years, we understand this, so we also scheduled some "dates." We went to a concert, had a couple of meals out and visited a botanical garden. We dressed up to do these things, combed our hair, I put on makeup - we don't normally do that for rattling around the house on weekends. It turns out Mr. Clark's a handsome guy and I clean up okay. (We did discover, however, that even at our pretend E-Harmony date best, we get seated towards the back of restaurants. We decided it's because restaurants want it to look like their clientele is hip, young and fashionable - not old people on E-Harmony dates. Fair enough...)

The "stay-cation" involved so much manual labor that we suffered a harsh realization about how out of shape we've become. In our minds, we're still fit and able to work all day without consequences. In reality, by the end of those "stay-cation" days, it was all we could do to walk the dogs and that was done with a crippled, hobbling sort of gait. "Who are these old people and when did we become them?" was a frequent topic of conversation.   

As often happens when we spend too much time together, there were a few tiffs, some harsh words, and a door or two slammed. When you've been married as long as we have, you learn how to hurt each other quickly and badly. Getting past the hurt, forgiving and forgetting is part of staying married and over time, Mr. Clark and I have gotten better at that.  

I photographed weddings for awhile and even though I did a lot of them, I was always surprised by the surety with which young couples say their vows and the lit up way they stare into each other's eyes. Mr. Clark and I got married as a sort of a lark and our approach has always been more like Antoine de Saint-Exupery's "love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."

We do work well together and we dream the same kind of dreams. By now, we've been through so much together that neither of us is able to imagine being with anyone else. He's a part of me; I'm a part of him; together we've made this life. That's what makes it possible for us to reconnect during those times when harsh words fly or the fire flickers out.        

If being in love is an "unconditional commitment to an imperfect person" then Mr. Clark and I are doing just fine. The "stay-cation" gave us ample opportunity to connect with each other's imperfections. It also offered plenty of time to enjoy each other's company. Marriage is nothing, if not a process and for us, the process has always been about growing apart and reconnecting. We did both of those things during the "stay-cation" and in spite of the sweat and muscle aches, by the end of the week we agreed that Mr. Clark will take another "stay-cation" next year and this time we will strive to not only survive, but actually enjoy it.  

because you asked...

This is the label on Ed Bob's sauces, mentioned in the column below about Plants vs. Seeds and Ed Bob's sauce.