Pet Land or Pain Land?
December 4, 2007
Thank you, Pet Land for making me understand the workings of a corporate body without scruples. One has to experience first-hand the horror of greed gone wild. This is a photo of my dog’s back after disc surgery. Howard came from Pet Land- Pet Land buys dogs from Puppy Mills.
Petland sells puppies from Puppy Mills. A large majority, including my Howard, have genetic defects and life long health problems. Howard goes in for surgery tomorrow to remove a ruptured disc. He is only three years old. I’m sorry to say I did not know about Puppy Mills three years ago when I went into Petland to buy catnip and fell in love with Howard. I worry about Howard’s brothers and sisters. How are they doing, if they have the same problems and their owners can’t afford the $6,000 dollar operation? I certainly can’t afford it either, but I can’t imagine the alternative. Howard is my family now, and Howard is, at this moment, on the floor, trembling and crying in pain, even after a heavy dose of pain meds and muscle relaxants. I have never seen an animal or person in so much pain, except for my father on the eve of his death. My guilt is fathomless. The moment I adopted Howard, another Puppy Mill dog was put in his place. I was a part of the Assembly Line of Agony. Please don’t make the same mistake. Research Puppy Mills and encourage their demise.
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There is somebody in my house in Vermont. A nice man is renting my house and I am thrilled because that man is renting my house and sending me money so that I can rent an apartment in Providence. Now, wait a minute. Does this make sense? I thought so, a few weeks ago, when I was working here, singing, planning, organizing, hob-knobbing, but as of today, as I lugged a bunch of my crap up two flights of stairs on the East Side, all the while knowing I would have to lug the crap back down the two flights of stairs a few months from now— as of today, I thought to myself, “Gee, I don’t feel very good in my head” I sat on the stairs, dirty stairs, very dirty, and considered my situation. I blamed the town of Bridport , Vermont, for not having a Dunkin Donut’s or a Cafe, a bar or a nightclub, a college, tennis courts, health club, movie theater. Then I blamed myself for wanting those things. Then I blamed myself for having those things here in Providence and not taking advantage of them because I like staying home and reading in bed. Now, if I like staying home and reading in bed, why don’t I just move back to my own home, in Bridport, and wait out the winter with Charles Dickens and Mark Twain? Now that I have rented my house, I miss it. It is not available. That is why I was so sad today, moving into what I thought was a nice apartment on the East Side. It is somebody elses house and always will be, no matter how many knick knacks, rugs, paintings, books, personal items I stuff into it. Renting makes me feel insecure, more insecure than worrying about how to pay my property tax. It’s silly, because none of us own anything fully. Still, sombody is in MY house and i am in somebody else’s house, and it’s ridiculous in a way that I can’t quite comprehend and it is making me very very sad.