Little Elmer likely wouldn’t have survived more than a few hours if a Good Samaritan hadn’t found him and brought him to the Humane Society.
Leah Owens and Elmer the kitten have had a rough time of it lately, but now that circumstances have brought them together, both their lives have improved.
Owens, 72, lost her husband to blood cancer late last year and has been feeling lonely. She has three cats, but they’re independent little rascals.
Then Elmer came along.
The gray tabby kitten, who has a very Buddesian look about him, was rushed to the North Texas Humane Society about two weeks ago by a Good Samaritan who found the little guy submerged in a bucket of industrial glue.
Elmer when he was covered in glue, left, and looking healthy and happy now, right. Credit: Humane Society of North Texas
After dish soap and several other substances failed to get the glue out of Elmer’s fur, Owens stepped in and gave the kitten a bath in canola oil.
Removing the super sticky substance required round-the-clock care, with Owens returning Elmer to his oil bath and massaging the glue out of his fur by hand.
Elmer was so relieved, he now considers massages a several times daily requirement and nudges Owens to give him the spa treatment.
Staff at the Humane Society say they’re not sure if Elmer fell into the glue bucket or if someone tossed him into it. He’s about two months old.
Elmer resembles a certain gray tabby and even has a similar tuft of white fur on his chest. Credit: North Texas Humane Society
As stories like this always do, Elmer’s plight pulled on the heartstrings of potential adopters, but Elmer and Owens have grown quite fond of each other.
Now it’s official: Owens’ home is Elmer’s forever home, and she’s his caretaker/masseuse for life.
Great job, Leah Owens! And watch out, gray tabbies can be quite demanding, but they also have big hearts.
A Kansas City family is in anguish after an Amazon delivery driver stole their senior cat, beginning a sequence of events that led to his death. Once again, Amazon treated the situation like a routine customer service issue.
At this point it feels like the certainties in life are death, taxes and Amazon delivery drivers stealing pets.
If there’s a fourth, it’s Amazon’s predictably awful response to customers whose cats and dogs are stolen by the company’s drivers. Whether asking distraught customers how much the pet was worth, offering credit, or offering to send stuffed animals as replacements, Amazon has generally been unhelpful. This is a pattern going back years now and Amazon still hasn’t come up with a protocol to handle these situations.
A recurring problem is that Amazon treats the incidents like regular customer service complaints. Their customer service representatives aren’t trained for the possibility, they are apparently reluctant to go off-script, and the result is that the reps treat the missing pets like fungible products, as if these situations can be rectified by sending a replacement or reimbursing a customer.
That’s the last thing anyone wants to hear. Pets are companions, considered family by most Americans who have cats and dogs in their homes. Hearing “And how much would you say Fluffy’s worth?” exacerbates the frustration and worry.
In the latest incident, surveillance footage shows an Amazon driver picking up a cat named Sidney from his family’s driveway in Kansas City on April 20. At 16 years old, dependent on medication with his health failing, Sidney was near the end of his life, Marsha Reeves told the local Fox affiliate.
Sidney
“I knew his time was near, and I just wanted him to be comfortable and at home when it came,” she said.
Because of the driver’s actions, Sidney’s last days were spent in distress and confusion, separated from the people who loved him. The driver surrendered him to a shelter the next day, and Sidney was bounced between shelters and animal control with his family frantically trying to track him when a veterinarian at a rescue group euthanized him.
“I cannot even imagine what he was thinking,” she said. “He did not deserve to die on a metal table with strangers poking him. He should have been at home in my arms when he took his last breath.”
Marsha Reeves, Sidney’s human
It’s a tragic and horrific end for a cat whose family wanted to fill his last days with love. They’re denied closure, and to add to the awfulness of the situation, Reeves said the mega-corporation was not helpful, at first not admitting one of its drivers took the cat, then slow-walking the response.
“I cannot even imagine what he was thinking,” Reeves said. “He did not deserve to die on a metal table with strangers poking him. He should have been at home in my arms when he took his last breath.”
We’ve written about this before, and previous cases make it clear: people who find themselves in this situation should not wait for Amazon (or any other company) to handle it, because it’s not a priority for them. In every case in which a family has successfully regained their cat, the common denominator was they took it upon themselves to lead the effort and were relentless in searching, posting flyers locally, rallying support online and making noise in local media. Sometimes even that’s not enough, but it increases the odds of a happy reunion by orders of magnitude compared to putting faith in a corporation and police.
In this case, there’s been no word from Amazon about consequences for the driver or changes to the way the company trains its delivery workforce and customer service representatives.
The driver “needs to come with a supervisor and face me and my family members who this has affected,” Reeves told the local Fox affiliate. “I think Amazon needs to be held accountable. I think this young woman needs to be held accountable. She needs to realize that there are consequences to her decision making.”
So far the company hasn’t admitted wrongdoing or offered an apology, which is consistent with cases in the past involving drivers who have stolen pets.
“Why won’t Amazon just come out and say ‘we screwed up?’”
The California man was hunting another animal when a herd of African elephants charged him and his professional guide.
The reaction to the trampling death of a “big game hunter” this month can be broken down to two main camps.
One side is in a celebratory mood, saying Ernie Dosio deserved to be trampled by African elephants on April 17 in Gabon, central Africa. His death was poetic justice, they say, delivered by animals of a species Dosio hunted, whose preserved and mounted heads he proudly displayed on his extensive trophy walls back home in California.
On the opposite end are people engaged in the hagiography of the 75-year-old business owner, describing him as a “pillar of the community” and a “great guy” who gave generously to charity.
We like our narratives black and white, our heroes and villains clearly delineated. To most people, Dosio was one or the other.
In reality, the two sides of Dosio are not mutually exclusive. It’s entirely possible he was a good member of the community who had compassion for people. It’s also true that contrary to claims that he was a “conservation hunter,” Dosio took pride in killing animals from critically endangered and protected species, like many who think their wealth entitles them to rob the Earth of wonderful and unique forms of life so they can collect trophies.
Dosio posing with an elephant he killed on an earlier trip.
Indeed, the concept of a “conservation hunter” is an oxymoron. The pro-hunting side says the fees hunters pay for licenses, guides and other services are crucial to fund conservation efforts.
The truth is that the majority of the money finds its way into the pockets of officials in kleptocracies. If the contributions of so-called conservation hunters are supposed to make a difference, then reality proves them to be an abject failure: population numbers for endangered species like elephants, lions, cheetahs and rhinos continue to trend down, and those species will be extinct in a decade or two if we don’t put a stop to poaching, hunting, habitat loss and other threats.
I also have a problem with calling these people hunters.
These men and women are not Jim Corbett roughing it on foot in the British Raj, using their skill and knowledge of the land to take out vicious man-eaters at great risk to themselves.
They are weekend warriors, wealthy tourists who pay tens of thousands of dollars to kleptocratic governments for their blessing to “harvest” the animals they kill. It’s big business: in South Africa alone, the trophy hunting industry brought in $120 million, according to a 2015 estimate. That number is likely considerably higher today.
When he was killed, Dosio was hunting for a yellow-backed duiker, a rare antelope listed as near-threatened on the IUCN red list. He paid Gabon’s government a $40,000 fee to “harvest” the animal.
Trophy hunters don’t stalk by moonlight, rifle in hand, looking for tracks and camping rough.
They are chauffeured around by hired drivers in comfortable, climate-controlled luxury off-road vehicles. They have servants who pitch their tents, cook their meals, light their fires and guard their camps.
They do not track their targets. They pay men to lure the unsuspecting creatures directly into their paths using food as a lure. The lions, leopards and other animals they kill don’t even realize they’re being hunted before the rifle shots end their lives.
Then the hunters retreat to the air-conditioned comfort of their vehicles while their hired servants do the dirty work of beheading the animals so they can be packed up, prepped for display and shipped back to the US, where they will join the heads of other animals killed by these wealthy men and women. Men and women who proudly show off their kills when they invite people to their homes, recounting their heroics to the bored guests, who make appropriately polite noises to pretend they’re impressed.
In addition to the 30 or so animals on display here, photos show the walls on the rest of Dosio’s home are covered with the preserved heads and bodies of animals he’s killed.
Nothing about this grotesque sequence of events resembles hunting. It is killing. It requires no skill, it carries no risk, its outcome is never in doubt, and it serves no purpose other than to pad the egos of people who have lots of disposable income and little self-confidence.
They have their defenders and their haters.
“I knew I was going to enjoy this,” one person wrote in response to a news story about Dosio’s demise.
“Do you think the elephants will mount his head on their walls?” another joked.
Some people speculated that the elephants, a species with notoriously long memories, may have remembered him from a prior encounter.
The more likely explanation is the elephants saw Dosio and one of his guides, both carrying weapons, as a threat to the calf they were protecting. Rather than put the baby and themselves at risk, they attacked first. If that’s the case, humans are at fault for that too, because the elephants know people carrying guns do not have good intentions. It may not have been Dosio who killed a member of that particular herd, but odds are overwhelming that someone has, and the elephants haven’t forgotten.
While celebrating Dosio’s death may provide a cheap dopamine hit and a sense of righteous justice, to be truly on the side of life means to value all forms of it, animal and human.
Dosio, 75, was reportedly a millionaire and owned a business that partnered with vineyards in California.
Celebrating Dosio’s demise means we’re no better than the “hunters” who grin like psychopaths for photos with the animals they’ve just killed. It makes those of us concerned about animal welfare and conservation look like extremists, and it only takes a few bad actors to wreck the efforts of an entire group. If a thousand protesters gather in a city square and two of them become violent, the resulting headlines will be about those two, not the 998 others who peacefully made their opinions known.
The way to fight back against trophy killing is by educating the public about the damage those killers do, by countering their claims that the fees they pay protect other animals, and by pointing out that without drastic intervention, elephants, lions and cheetahs will be nothing more than memories for a few generations, and near-myth to subsequent generations.
Killing, not hunting: this photo of an unnamed trophy hunter and his wife is instructive because it shows trophy “hunts” are never in doubt, never pose a risk to the “hunters,” and require no physical ability.
This also calls for self examination. On an Instagram account I made for Buddy, one I log into two or three times I year, I follow a handful of National Geographic photographers.
One of their images remains indelibly burned into my brain: a beautiful tiger cub, looking happy and full of curiosity about the world, gazing right at the camera. Even though I know I’m anthropomorphizing a bit, I can’t help feeling good about the expression on the young tiger’s face, an expression that looks like an enthusiastic grin. He is radiating joy at life.
And then I read the caption. This cub, this beautiful animal of a species that teeters on the edge of extinction, is growing up on a hunting reserve. His fate is already set. He will be killed, his life cut short by another weekend warrior paying to “harvest” him and mount his head on a wall so he can tell stories about his own bravery to bored friends and acquaintances.
That’s not just inhumane, it reveals something deeply disturbing about the kind of people who take pleasure from killing. Something primal, something that has no place in our civilization if we’re going to mature as a species, overcome our violent instincts, and have a future on this planet without destroying ourselves and taking every other form of life with it.
That’s why we need to be on the side of life. The alternative is reducing this garden world, this paradise, into a cold, lifeless rock.
A shelter operator has received death threats amid confusion over the facts after animal welfare authorities raided a Los Angeles County shelter on Friday.
The initial news headlines were apocalyptic — more than 700 dogs and cats were found in deplorable conditions according to authorities, who said the California property where they executed a search warrant represented the most extreme animal hoarding case in history.
A day later the numbers have been revised down to a still-significant 250 dogs and 66 cats, and the owner of Rock N Pawz shelter in Los Angeles County says she and her facility have been smeared, resulting in a flood of death threats directed at her.
The story is a reminder that facts aren’t always established as quickly as we’d like them to be in the age of 24/7 news and social media, and the advent of photorealistic AI can add to confusion and stir public outrage by distorting the reality of fluid situations.
A woman holds a dog found on the Rock N Pawz property. Credit: Los Angeles County Department of Animal Care and Control
What we know for sure is that officers from the Los Angeles County Department of Animal Care and Control executed a search warrant on the property in Lake Hughes, an unincorporated community in the Sierra Pelona Mountains, about an hour’s drive from Los Angeles proper. The investigation was prompted by repeated complaints from neighbors, who said there were overwhelming odors coming from the shelter and claimed there were regular dog fights and incessant loud barking.
A local news station, KTLA, reported authorities on site were wearing respirators with protective gear, and quoted authorities who said they did not believe it was a case of intentional neglect.
“Sometimes people try to do the right thing, and they may bite off more than they can chew,” the Department of Animal Care’s Sgt. Matthew Davoodzadeh told the station. “They end up ultimately not being able to care for the animals in a proper way.”
Authorities have not filed charges related to the case and there have been no allegations of criminal conduct.
Credit: Los Angeles County Department of Animal Care and Control
The influx of animals has strained nearby shelters while veterinarians examine the 316 dogs and cats taken from the property.
In the meantime, shelter owner Christine D’Anda said descriptions of the property and the conditions of the animals aren’t accurate, and took to social media to complain of harassment and death threats directed at her since news of the search warrant hit the web.
The shelter operator asked people to withhold judgment until the facts are established.
On Facebook, users posted images allegedly taken from the property, while others pushed back, alleging the images are either AI creations or were taken from unrelated news stories.
The shelter’s page indicated active rescue and adoption efforts, including fundraisers and an advertised adoption event last weekend.
D’Anda said she will fight the allegations in the legal system.
“There’s nothing that I can do. I’m a very stoic person,” she said. “I’m very sad about the whole situation, and I can’t wait to go to court.”
Buddy the Cat says humans must learn to respect personal space, while Buddy the Cat argues it’s perfectly reasonable to sleep on his human’s face.
Doesn’t Anyone Teach You About Personal Space?
All right, dude, enough! Damn!
You were doing a good job there for a little bit but by the 4th second you should have known it was time to cease scratching my head.
Do humans not teach their offspring about personal space or something? I am a cat, not a stuffed animal!
From now on there will be an automatic three-second cutoff during petting sessions, and I will enforce a two-foot buffer zone so my space is respected. You leave me no choice!
I Can’t Sleep Unless I’m Draped Over You
Are you settled? Comfortable? Ready to go to sleep?
Good.
I’m just gonna climb up here and sort of just unroll myself across your body. It’s the only way I can fall asleep these days.
I think part of it is the gentle rhythm of your breathing, your chest rising and falling, that really relaxes me, although that little current of air when you exhale is annoying. Try to breathe less annoyingly, okay?
If you wake up during the night and I’m wrapped around your head like a hat, do not be alarmed. Your hair is soft and your brain generates heat. This is prime real estate.
Likewise, there may be times when I walk on your face, lick your nose, groom your beard, or jump on you with a back paw landing right where the sun don’t shine. As you fold up like an accordion in shock, and blink in the dark with your 20/800 uncorrected vision, remind yourself that it’s just your best little pal trying to get comfortable.
Mi casa es su casa, eh? I’m your feline friend! Your best bud! Now if you don’t mind, stop tossing and turning so I can get my beauty sleep. Thank you for your anticipated cooperation.
Pain In The Bud 