Proud to Be Gay and don't you forget it.

 

 

 

“Hatred ever kills, love never dies. Such is the vast difference between the two.
What is obtained by love is retained for all time.
What is obtained by hatred proves a burden in reality for it increases hatred."

- by Mohandas K. Gandhi -”

 

 

Ya know, I often find myself doing chores during the day that give me time to think and that's often not a good thing.
I see so many people sharing their opinions about the rebel flag and gay rights here on fb and I've realized that most of them have Absolutely NO fucking link to southern heritage in the first place.
At least I was fucking born BELOW the Mason goddamn Dixon Line.
I was raised using the word Nigger and then I grew the fuck up. It's a hateful degrading word and it's use constitutes Hate Language just like the Fucking Confederate Flag. I Lived in Fl, That's about as deep south as I ever want to be although I will give FL credit.... it's not ranked as illiterate as some of its southern neighbors.
I saw first hand the racism. I worked with racist companies. I heard the racist remarks. I heard the racist jokes. I also heard the faggot jokes. They went hand in hand with racism.
All of these privileged, christian white men and women, all screamed heritage every time their little flag was attacked, but I knew otherwise. I had BEEN there.
When I finally did come out, while living in FL, I soon realized the only way you could be "accepted" as a gay man was to be a freak or something they could laugh at and enjoy, because otherwise you would be too normal and, well that just wasn't gonna be tolerated. So, as gay men. we walked to our jobs or home or to a friends house, while looking over our shoulder and lived in fear of always being attacked just for being who we were.
I was at work one night when some good ole boys drove by and put a few rounds thru the front window of the bar. One round went right past my head. Good Ole Boys? I think not. Racist Hateful Bigoted Homophobic Rednecks.... that's more like it.
I left FL because the Racial climate there was sickening.
It was an illness too many were suffering from.  I once heard a quote, that "those with nothing will fight the most for nothing" I totally believe that after living there.
I moved back to MD where I was once again "accepted".
How wonderful, my family "accepted" me. What The Fuck Ever.
I never needed anyones acceptance. Why would someones Acceptance make me feel better about myself? I was no different than they were. Maybe I was better, but by any means I was no less and definitely not in need of their acceptance.
Finally, Flash fwd 2015. We have a Black President!
The Confederate Flag is being Dropped Everywhere and Racism is NOT going to be tolerated any longer. Not even in the disguise of heritage. Marriage laws have finally changed, like they should have always been.
I am your equal, I don't require your acceptance or your tolerance. I won't allow your racist, homophobic bile to sicken my world any longer. Take your antiquated fairy tale beliefs, your bitter prejudiced disposition, and go back to the hole you climbed from.
Oh, and don't forget your flag.

This has been an exceptionally Grand Year for anyone that's LGBT.
Finally the laws are changing so that we, for once in our lives are starting to feel validated.
The years of struggle for equality, for our basic Human Rights to be Honored,
finally are starting to mean something.
The Right to Marry the person we Love and in some cases have been in love with for Decades, has finally come true.
Yes, we are Proud to Be Gay.
We are Proud to be part of an ongoing Story of Human Rights Struggle.
As long we breath, we will fight for fairness.

 

 

My Kiwi 5 ~ 31 ~ 15

 

July 30th 2014
My life changed forever.

 

Animal control called, like so many times before.
"We've got one for you, Dean".
That's all they ever have to say anymore, and I know to just go to the shelter.
What I usually find is a dog so abused and neglected that it practically takes a miracle to save them.
What I found this day, was a sad, yet fiercely indifferent, sweet little schipperke.

 

It took all of three days before she would even look me in the eye, but on that 3rd day, she turned and licked my nose.
This was Loves First Kiss.
Although she immediately looked away again. I knew I was in Love,
I also knew I'd be getting many more of those sweet little kisses.

 She had this strange habit of sleeping upside down and when she did, three of her only 5 teeth could be seen making her look like a slumbering Fruit Bat. This is what we lovingly called her, most of the time... our little Fruit Bat, but we had already settled that her name would be Kiwi.

It wasn't long at all before this angel was my permanent shadow. She slept by my head, she bit my feet when she wanted my attention, she'd go crazy when I returned home, much more so than any of the other dogs in the house.
I really was smitten with this yappy, always Happy little girl.

 

These were the eyes that melted my heart.
I could never say no to this face. She had become like oxygen to me. I was calm in her presence.
I relaxed with her in my arms. I could breathe again on stressful days with just a lick from her tiny tongue.

 She was my partner in Crime.
Kiwi Loved the Farm stores.
Everyone knew her and she knew how to win their hearts as well.

Kiwi even tolerated my attempts to be creative.
Yes, she pretty much did whatever I wanted her to do and I paid the price.
I also did whatever she wanted ME to do.

My upside down little Schipperkiwi

 

Eleven Months is how long she stayed part of my life.
July 30th 2014 to June 31st 2015

The first month I had her, she suffered a terrible cluster seizure.
It lasted over an hour. Immediately I had her to the vet and we started meds to help with this condition.
The seizures continued and although they weren't as severe, they were more often.
Many months of medication later, we decided to take her Off the drugs.
We changed her diet, the seizures stopped....
for a little while.
When they returned.... it was like watching her die every month.

Cluster Seizures that would last 90 minutes. Kiwi would be unresponsive and just as I would
make the call to let them know I was bringing her in... she would
snap out of it and run outside to go potty....
as if nothing had happened.

In between these random seizures, Kiwi would suffer bouts of bloody stool. This would happen for a day or two and then stop.
We had gotten used to the cycle. Seizure.... bloody stool.... fine again.
This time, the bloody stool didn't follow a seizure, it just started.
Late in the evening, there it was a few puddles of bloody poop.
Then we woke this morning, to several puddles on several pee pads. This was accompanied by vomiting and even More bloody stool, until the stool was just blood.
I gave her sub Q fluids to keep her from dehydrating, but as the day went on, she left us.
Kiwi was gone. What was lying in my arms was the shell of what was Kiwi.
She would stare into nothing and wouldn't or couldn't make eye contact with me.
This was the end.

 Each time she suffered a
seizure, my heart just ached.
I couldn't bear to see her in such
a confused and what appeared to be, painful situation.

It was killing me to think each time, that she was dying.
I've never lost one dog so many times.
Once, we really believed she did die. No breathing, no heartbeat and just when we all burst into tears..... her eyes flew open wide and she wanted down, so she could run outside.

My Kiwi.
So Happy, so Sweet, so Lovable and just a fireball of energy.
Always the Alpha, never giving in with the other dogs.
Picking fights with 100 lb Labs, and Positive she would win.

 Never more than a few feet from my feet, Loved the sun and LOVED to be legs in the air.
I've not known a dog like her and I likely won't meet another ever again.

 

I once had a little girl named Lexi, she was my sunshine. She made me smile even on the saddest days. She was pure goodness and if you had the opportunity to ever meet her, then your life will forever be better because of it.

Kiwi, was my Oxygen.
Tonight, when I knew she wouldn't be recovering like all those times before, I made that call.
I carried her to the car, I kissed her head, wrapped her in a soft blanket and put her alongside me for that last ride.
The rain was coming down so hard, there were cars hydroplaning and some were pulled onto the shoulder of the highway.
I didn't care, because I couldn't see the road for my tears. I couldn't breathe.
I gasped for air and words and thought and all there was, was pain in my chest where lungs should have been.
We drove on through the storm.
I just kept stroking her head and by now I had calmed myself, so that I could sing to her.
I loved to sing to Kiwi. I told her stories of adventures I had had with Lexi and how I would share the stories of adventures I had had with her, with others.

We weren't but a few miles from our destination when Kiwi, who hadn't been able to really focus on anyone almost all day, raised her head and looked straight at me.
"What's This?", I said.
Could she be snapping out of it one more time?
That's when she violently threw her head back with one last seizure.
Head back, stiffened and she was gone.
Oh Hell...... Why can't I breathe?
Why does it hurt So bad?
She was still alive but she wasn't responsive.
Why had I waited so long?
What selfish bastard allows something so wonderful and innocent to suffer this long.
I wanted to just die with her.
How could I continue to live when my oxygen was dying.
What would keep me alive tomorrow?

We're There.... that room, where all dogs die.
That Place where misery is cast aside for Peace.
The Needle pierced her vein....
I held her so tight I could feel my own heart pounding.

Gone.... she's gone.
Why am I not dead?
Why am I screaming and unable to make a sound?
She never moved.
Her eyes never closed.
She didn't gasp, or cry.
One second I was holding the definition of unconditional love and now, nothing.
Her soul had left me as peacefully and as beautifully as that first kiss she ever gave me.
Loves first Kiss was now a memory.

A memory that would help me breathe again.

No more pain, no more sadness.
Kiwi is forever in my Heart.

 

 

Not for Sale..... NOT to You.... Not Ever

I Am An Animal Rescuer.

I recently saw you ask on a Rescuer Facebook Page other than mine,
"Are you selling those Puppies"?
Selling is such a dirty word.
I automatically disqualified you from EVER owning a dog.
FIRST... you have no concept of what a Rescue does, if you're friends with a rescuers FB page and still asks that question.
Secondly.... Because of the first reason, you're just an Idiot.

When a rescuer gives up 8 to14 weeks of their life to take in an abandoned Mama and her babies, most people, unless they've actually done this, have no clue what it involves.
Spending day in and day out making sure they're healthy and socialized and get the required amount of kisses each day.
The first week or so, the pups have to stay very warm and dry and Mama fed ENORMOUS amounts of food and water, which completely translates into ENORMOUS amounts of piss and shit.
The Absolute LAST thing we ever want to hear is,
"How much for the puppy", or
"Are you selling them"











Not always do all the puppies survive. Often one or more are born dead or die soon afterwards. It's not our fault, but it sure breaks our heart and we usually take responsibility for it. It's most always because the poor mama was so neglected or abused prior to being rescued.
There isn't a soft bed out there that can undo the damage caused by Abuse.
So, Mama arrives, babies are born, and if we're lucky, they're all healthy and live.
Now you say,
"So whats the problem with asking if they're for sale"?
Well for starters... Because you're Still Stupid.
and Two.... the roller coaster of managing life has only just begun.












Day in Day out, late nights laying on the floor keeping that terrified mama calm and building trust.
Showing her she'll still be loved the next day and the one after that, and that there'll always be food and water, so she doesn't have to scarf it down or growl while she eats it. Rubbing her ears while she fitfully slumbers and wondering how she got all those scars..... Probably from protecting any of the many litters of pups she had before this one..... before she had YOU to do it for her.
Looking over at her babies, the pain in your chest grows so big you realize your sobbing before you even feel the tears.
How can I protect this litter? How can I make SURE that each one of them is more than just what someones wallet could afford? What if they're not ready for the world by 8 weeks? What if I fail them? Will they be socialized enough? Will the new owners take the time to continue socializing them? Will they Love them and hold them and protect them like the child they are?
"Am I Selling Them", you so ignorantly ask......










There isn't an amount of money that could calm the fear we have, that they won't be loved as much as we know they need to be. No amount of money can remove the knowledge we gain when we hear someone flippantly ask, "How Much Da Dog"? 
Show some fucking respect. If not for us, for this dog that you allowed to fall between the cracks..... to be forgotten.
While you were wondering what that Dumbass Kanye was going to do last week, a few thousand dogs were Killed in Shelters in the US alone. Not your fault, you say... BULLSHIT, I say.
It's everyones fault. Because of your ignorance and your uneducated request, we know for FACT, it's your fault. Ignorance breeds ignorance.
You apply for the puppy. We investigate you. It's easy you know... Facebook did that for us.
Oh, I see you have 3 pitbulls that aren't neutered according to your photo album, and when I question you about that you actually tell me the truth.
Oh How you cried when they put them all to sleep for killing your neighbors yappy dog. I want to feel bad for you, but I have a Greater Urge to put a Stake through your skull.
Now you want to start over again, and you want to take one of MY babies to do that.
"Am I Selling Them"? , You're fucking Nuts!

Oh, those pups.... their eyes opened around 12 days old. I was there that day. I couldn't leave them. I know they couldn't really see me yet, because it takes about 4 days for their vision to clear up, but I wanted them to not be afraid of this new thing, so we played on the floor all day.
I held them and cooed in the ears, which by the way... at this age they're still deaf. I know you didn't know that, because you're stupid. I've now spent about two weeks doing load after load of laundry in order to make sure these pups are dry and warm and my home doesn't smell like shit. Scraping shit out of blankets and bleaching and mopping the floor where Mama lives when she's not nursing.
See Mama is still bleeding, because she's most likely been bred MANY MANY times before, and this just happens when the uterus is so abused. So I clean the floor and I wash the blood from her legs and I tell her it's all ok and I hug her neck and I laugh at the funny way she insists on licking behind my ears as if I'm one of her pups. Its been just two weeks... Can I love this dog and her pups any more than I already do? Probably not. I'm starting to get hopeful. The puppies appear to be doing well and now I look forward to meeting the new starry eyed potential adoptive families that will inevitably be emailing and messaging me daily. All of them with questions about potty training and vaccinating and crate training and which collars to use and most importantly it seems, what to feed them.
Funny though, Most of these wonderful people, even though they'll Never get a puppy from me, because, let's face it... there are only 7 pups, they all will have one thing in common and that's Intelligence. The one category where you have Failed.
It really boils down to a bad choice of words, but then, your entire existence is most likely a train wreck of bad choices..... according to your FB page.
"Am I Selling Those Puppies"?














4 weeks of age... the puppies can hear!!! Now the fun begins. They actually growl at me when I enter the room. they're starting to bark too. It's so cute, I've probably clogged You Tube with videos of them already. See this stage lasts only a few days. Shortly their growls and barks AT me will turn into Happy whining and barking FOR my attention. Escaping their crate while I'm trying to sort laundry and chewing on my slippers. Getting under my feet and falling asleep in the strangest places, which I quickly discover are the hardest to find when you think a puppy is missing. I remember all of these things. Who escaped the pen first, Who opened their eyes first, Who ate from the food bowl first, Who was the first to finger paint on the laundry room door.
You say you could love these things too if you had the chance like I have.
I know you don't have the fortitude to handle this and based on your disregard for what we go through, you don't have the right.
It's been one month... seems like no time at all, but you're not counting in seconds and that's how it's done. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week, Mama and these babies are in your thoughts.
In your dreams, your waking thoughts, all day long, right before bed. They never leave your mind.
"Puppies For Sale" Heartless and Impossible

The next 4 weeks Fly by.... LMAO. As if time were going backwards and puppies were getting fatter and more mischievous. I'll admit, there are times during this 2nd month when I contemplate having an outside kennel. Sometimes the smell is SO Strong. Usually this happens just before company arrives and the AC fan sucks the aroma in and disperses it through the ENTIRE house. Even the smell of a roast, slow cooking all day, can't overpower the vomit inducing powers of Seven Puppies shitting all at the same time.
See, at this age, they sleep, they wake, they Piss, they Shit, they eat, they play, they eat, they shit, they Piss, they play, they Sleep and Repeat.
It's our job to keep them clean, and supply enough water and food to help them grow while continuing the whole maddening piss and poop cycle.
Lets not forget, their faces. Now they're old enough for us to say without a doubt that there was most likely more than one father to this litter. Either that, or Daddy was a Serious Heinz 57.
We love them all for their own unique personality and appearance, but you won't.
You know what you want, and it's the rare one with the Red Nose. MORON.
There is NO breed standard with this breed, so try again. Think of another reason why you just HAVE to have That one.
What was that? Do we HAVE to spay them? I'm sorry...I just had a little stroke there.
Could you repeat the question? I'm having difficulty unstrapping my pistol.
You want to Breed her?
This is when I start to question my existence on this planet. Is it to calmly educate them one at a time or does this world really need one more mercenary?
My brain freezes for a moment and suddenly every dog that's ever laid in my arms while it passed to the bridge, every puppy that never got the chance to live, because it's mama was too malnourished to grow them healthy, every beaten and terrified soul that learned to no longer cower from my touch, came crashing back into view.
I start to cry and realize I could never be a mercenary, but I can't remain calm either. I am not an educator. I don't have the patience for this amount of Dumb.
"No, we're NOT Selling these Puppies"!

My Babies and their Mama are part of an elaborate Lottery where people enter by filling out applications. We review those applications and make our choices based on many requirements, and of course expect a generous donation which never ever covers the costs, just so we can do this all over again.
Some of those application requirements are secret, so that you can't just pad yours.
I will share this one with you though..... You can't appear to be an ignorant swamp dwelling 'tard and expect to be awarded one of my Babies. If you expect to take a piece of my heart, my sweat, my tears and make it your own, you'll have to willing to trade a living Unicorn for it.
Now, as for You, Go Away.
Go Away before you Really Piss me off.
Go to a shelter, where they'll Gladly hand you a puppy in exchange for your rubber check.
Go to a shelter where you KNOW they're "selling Puppies" and you can complain about the fee while you flap your face on that blinged out I-Phone, that broke one of your 2 inch nails when you pulled it from your Gucci rip off purse.
Hurry, before me or another Rescuer can find them and whisk them off to safety.
Hurry, before we can save them from someone like you, who just wants to
"Buy a Puppy"







Meanwhile, during that adoption event, where you try one more time to acquire a puppy and get told, NO, the one person, or sometimes group of people, who were there for this little family for the last two months, are quietly dying inside.
A mixture of happiness and blinding sadness. Emotionally Raped, from watching little pieces of ourselves being lifted by new arms and covered with strangers kisses.
How can we make sure that Mama knows her babies are safe and she'll never go through this again? If I'm lucky, some other Rescuer has taken Mama home by now, so the puppies could be weaned. At least today when it's all over I won't have to go back home to her sad face. I'll have bursts of tears all the way home, and when I get there I'll be quiet and do that last load of laundry.
I might clean the crate, mop the floor. I'll do this despite the sadness and the tears and the bittersweet joy, because tomorrow, I might just get that emergency phone call asking me to take another.
I have to be ready. I tend to my heart, I look at pictures. I can still smell puppy breath. I touch my neck and imagine Mama giving me one of her special hugs.
Days pass, puppy pics start to arrive and I see happy families loving and spoiling my babies..... No, Their babies. I get a call and hear Mama has a Wonderful Application. She'll get to go live with a family at the Beach... How Awesome!!!! She deserves a Lifetime of Beach Vacations!
The Phone rings again and I'm out the door. This time it won't be so easy. This time, Mama is sick with heartworm and nursing newborns. She's terrified and lived her whole life outside.
I go to her, I give her my heart, I love her as my own. I post her story. I post her pups.
I'll NOT be Selling these Either, so Don't ask.