Wild Animals are WILD

This is a wild animal.  In this picture the wild chimp is eating a wild monkey.  They are both wild animals.

I've refrained from writing about the chimp incident because too much has already been said and none of it has added much to the conversation.  In addition, lawmakers and politicians frantically are trying to pass monkey legislation on the state and national level.  Suffice it to say the woman had an inappropriate relationship with the chimp (a glass of wine, a bath together, then a snuggle in bed).  But clearly this was a sad, troubled woman; having lost a daughter the chimp filled a void in her life.

But I am not so much focused on the incident, tragic though it was.  I am more concerned with the issue of people keeping inappropriate animals as pets.

Whether we like it or not certain animals at this time are bred primarily as pets.  These are domesticated animals who over a period of time came to prefer living inside and being fed over prowling the countryside and finding their own food.  In exchange for shelter and food they provide humans with companionship.  I don't know what animals experts would consider 'domesticated.'  My list doesn't go far beyond dogs and cats.

Other animals are not domesticated; they are wild.  This category includes chimpanzees and wolves and alligators and countless other animals that live in cages and terrariums

We have an internal social/professional networking site at my company.  I belong to the dog lovers group.  Today, in the midst of a heated exchange about pit bull as pet, someone mentioned a friend who had a timber wolf as a house pet.  It is 98% wolf and the rest is dog.   This person stopped going to the house after the wolf attacked him for the second time.   Apparently owning a timber wolf is legal in their state.  A wolf is not a dog.  A wolf is a wild animal.  Wild animals are not suitable as pets.  

Most of the folks who keep wild animals as pets probably consider themselves animal lovers. However much they say they love animals, they certainly don't respect them.  Respecting an animal involves appreciating it for what it is and where it is most comfortable living according to its own instincts.  It does not include forcing an animal into an environment where its natural instincts are stifled.  Chimps live in the jungle; they don't wear clothes, they don't drink wine out of stemmed wineglasses.  They swing from trees and eat other animals.  They attack when they feel threatened.  No one can train a wild animal to live apart from its instincts, be it a circus, a Las Vegas nightclub act, or a lonely woman who craves a lost child and have it end well for the animal or the handler.

Respecting animals does not involve taking wild animals into our homes and trying to conform them to our wishes.  Respecting animals involves creating conditions where they can live well as what they are.  It involves working to save the rain forests, protecting habitats, opposing offshore drilling, avoiding the products of factory fishing and agribusiness as much as possible. It doesn't necessarily mean becoming vegetarian or vegan although some make that choice. It means being responsible for knowing that the steak you just bought at the supermarket came from a cow who was forced, against its nature, to eat corn instead of grass, and then was shot full of antibiotics to keep it from dying from eating the corn instead of the grass it was designed to eat. It means looking for alternatives, buying fresh and locally whenever possible.

Pets are pets.  For good or ill that is how they have adapted.  Get a dog.  Get 10 if you can responsibly care for ten.  But for all animals' sakes, don't keep wild animals as pets.

Please God Let It Be Spring Soon

Pretty pic of sunrise while Rupert was pooping.

Hopefully the pretty picture will offset my depressed, irritated rantings.

I have a question.  What is the purpose of February?  It has Valentine's Day, a day that some people enjoy but others find it heinous.  It has Dead President's, oops, President's Day which is only a holiday if you work in government or banking.  Beyond that the most positive aspect is that it is shorter than the other months.

Above sunset not withstanding, when I look out my front door I see a grim patchwork of dirty snow, muddy grass, and salt and sand covered pavement.  It is still cold although tomorrow is supposed to be 55 F but raining.  But hopefully that will take care of most of the dirty snow.

Anyway, today I am feeling about as grim as the view outside the front door.  I NEED ME SOME SPRING!!!!!!!!!!

Ede and The Esthers

Leaving aside what it says about my 20-year-old self that I preferred the company of my grandmother's friends to friends my own age, my last post got me thinking about my grandmother Ede and The Esthers, Esther K and Esther A.  The Esthers were neighbors and also attended the same small church as my family.  Esther K was a year-round resident; Esther A wintered in Florida.

Esther K taught me to crochet.  Esther A taught me to play canasta.  My grandmother taught me not to put up with shit from men.  Now if you've gone all Friday-Night-Knitting-Club on me and are imagining that sharing-of-female-wisdom-across-the-generations that goes on in all our Book Club books, stop.  Get that image out of your head right now. Mostly we shared snarky gossip about neighbors and fellow church-goers and I complained about my seemingly endless supply of loser boyfriends (I didn't listen so well to Nana in those days.)

Even more entertaining was that my grandmother was always mad at one or both of The Esthers.  Frequently The Esthers were mad at each other and tried to recruit my grandmother and me to one or the other side.  Usually it started on the phone.  One of them took offense at some minor, and I do mean minor, slight, hung up on the other, and they were off and running. I'd listen to my grandmother's version of the conversation in apparently perfect word-for-word detail.  Later on I'd wander over to visit whichever Esther was the offender/offended to get her side.  It still amazes me that women in their seventies could act like such middle-schoolers. Ede complained that Esther A called Esther K on Monday and Tuesday but didn't call her until Wednesday.  Esther K complained that Esther A was so busy at church introducing her house guest to the pastor that she didn't introduce the guest to her.  Esther K and Ede thought Esther A 'put on airs'.  Esther A thought Esther K was bossy.  The Esthers thought Ede was a busybody. 

These women were in their eighth decade, not in eighth grade.

I guess if there was any wisdom to be learned from my time with Ede and The Esthers beyond how to crochet, how to play canasta, and not to take shit from men, it is that being old doesn't automatically mean being grown up - and I don't mean that in a necessarily good way.  As I move closer to their age that may be an important lesson.

Handicrafty

Apropos of nothing other than the mere fact that I haven't posted for an obscene length of time,  I discovered yesterday that I remember how to crochet.  It has been at least 20 years since I crocheted anything - and back then it was delicate doilies and antimacassars, but the above is my double crochet - maybe not perfect but pretty darn good for not having picked up a hook in a while.

I have also been re-teaching myself how to knit and that is having mixed results.  I did knit much less than I crocheted so I think muscle memory is key here.  Of course, yesterday when I tried to figure out how to do a double crochet stitch I immediately went to the illustration and written directions.  After a half hour of failure and frustration I took a deep breath, closed the instruction book, and using what I had gleaned from the previous half hour, sat back and relied on muscle memory.  Before I knew it I had finished a whole row.

But I think the fact that crochet comes more easily to me is based a lot on who taught me.  My grandmother crocheted but her friend, Esther K. (as opposed to Esther A.) taught me.  I sat in her living room hours during breaks from college while she taught me how to make my afghans rectangular instead of 'blobular' and fed me tea and cookies.

When someone attempts to teach a family member, higher than normal expectations combine with higher than normal desire to please to create at best, an unstable learning environment.  I am definitely a better crochet-er because of  Esther K.  The knitting I will have to master on my own.