Barclay has been let down twice now as people offering to adopt then cannot do so. He needs a home. People, will you help me make 2015 a successful “adopt a dog” year – starting with Barclay?
Dear Readers – an appeal to all of you who love dogs and have a spare note or coin in your bank account.
I don’t usually do money appeals, not via this media anyway, but this is a very special case. This is because HUMANS have ruined the life of a dog. I hear you think it.. “Oh no not again, someone touting for cash!” Well, I’m not ashamed to say – on this occasion yes I am.
Here’s the story of Amil, Continue reading
I came across this wall poster on yet another Rescue site on Facebook yesterday and there’s a lot of truth in it. Since looking for another dog to go with Annie (a Romanian Rescue) after Joe’s death I have spent weeks spiraling around a head-spinning array of sites for fosters required, adoption required, rescue this, rescue that… It’s mind-blowing to say the least.
Now, I had to make a decision. As someone said recently “Taking in one dog won’t change the world, but it will change THE DOG’S world”. So, I couldn’t go about trying to change the world per se, but I most definitely could change the world for one dog. I trawled quite a few sites, both UK and abroad – Spain, Cyprus, Romania, Spain again, Romania, UK, Romania…. One site stuck out – for me. A lady who was a teacher by day and a carer for over 100 dogs by night/spare time had her story. It was no worse than some others I’d read, but when I read that she’d just taken in 18 pups barely 8 weeks old, that would have been put to sleep, I felt the tug.
We all get it at some point in life. Not always about animals. Sometimes it’s children or elderly or disable people, or gardens, or buildings, or old cars … something somewhere hits a note in the heart that sings just slightly louder than the melee of other notes and there’s the tug. Some call it passion, some a calling, but whatever name you choose it’s that defining moment that leads you in a different direction from the one you intended. That’s also the point we can choose to ignore what we know and carry on our merry way, a pang of guilt or doubt or a 2nd thought soon wiped away by life itself and it’s forever busy goings on.
Sometimes we don’t ignore it, we’re tugged closer, pulled into the outstretched arms of the melody that begins to rise from that one different note. We look, we search, we ask, we read – each time knowing that the more we know the more we’ll be dragged deeper into the song.
When I saw the pups, barely old enough to be away from their mum, I wanted to help. After all, what animal/dog lover can turn their head from a babe in need, especially those of one of the species of animal that truly does just bond with man on a whole different level? Practically, I couldn’t do a huge amount, I couldn’t house them all, pay a fortune for care or drive over and rescue the lot, but tiny stones dropped in a pond make a foundation on which someone can stand one day. I sponsored and offered to foster one (Maiya) , and said I’d adopt another (Tess) to have as a playmate for my Annie as was the original reason I was looking.
Maiya from a public shelter was to be put to sleep if nowhere could be found for her and 17 other pups
Tess when she was first rescued from a Gypsy cellar with her siblings who were all kept in the damp and the dark.
It didn’t seem much but the money I paid for both to be transported to the UK, plus the sponsorship money, paid for food for them and a lot more besides. All of the medical costs for vaccines etc was included in the adoption pack for Tess and I could have avoided costs for Maiya (fosterers don’t pay these the charity does) but that note in my heart twanged regularly and I didn’t mind paying a bit extra.
All but 2 of those pups are now in safe, happy homes across Europe as fostered or adoptee pets. The success of this drive is testament not only to those who’s heart played a specific note that they could not ignore but also to the woman who took them in, loved them and made them ready to leave, whilst still caring for another 100+ dogs, working as a teacher in a school and being a wife and a human being to boot.
Why didn’t I ignore it all when there are thousands of dogs in UK rescues? Simple answer is: – the UK rescue centers have many volunteers not just 3, they have a lot of ‘press’ and reasonable funding, some even from the government, and the dogs here are safe already. Many people adopting a pet will go to RSPCA or the like, or even a local place: that’s the first place they’ll look. We did the same with Joe and Annie. The issue with Romania is longstanding and is now becoming known but has been overlooked to the point of utter meltdown for dogs. The UK is well known as a country of dog lovers, there’s plenty of love to go around.
In Romania dog lovers are rarer as most people see these animals as vermin and starve them, hurt them beyond what we could imagine and then leave them to die. At the very least the country is so over-run the population is exploding ridiculously. A massive neuter drive is also happening but it can’t keep up. Years ago dogs were loved in the country but social and economical happenings changed people’s lives and attitudes and dogs went feral.
I can’t save them all but so far I’ve saved 3…and that is reason enough for me.
My story is for the one that struck that note then struck the chord, the chord became a song I could not ignore – I still sponsor with the few pounds spare and Barclay and Sophie are among the many that need to be taken out of that dog hating trap called Romania – but for the animal lovers of this world that’s a whole other story.
If you as a reader have an interest (and if you don’t you won’t have got this far) then take a look at the links for Barclay and Sophie and go from there – Maybe your song will begin too.
Joe’s story…………….
https://mrsskeats.wordpress.com/2013/12/28/dont-let-another-good-dog-die-needlessly/
It’s 19th June 2014. Joe died 6 months ago on 23rd December 2013.
Joe was a 6 year old beautiful boy taken from us after only 10 months by a cruel twist .. an accident .. lack of information .. so I started a mini campaign. And I’ve just read about another poor soul, a friend of a friend, having to wait to see if his dog will survive a stick injury. Heartbreaking.
Ok so writing about it channelled my grief but the whole thing goes beyond that.
What was to be thought a rare freaky accident turned out to be all too familiar to vets and families worldwide. What was thought to be a personal kick in the nuts turns out to be a case of ignorance is most definitely not bliss.
I received hundreds of comments on my first post after Joe died. I received hundreds of facebook and twitter comments too. The current WP views are at over 139000 which is great, and yet not enough. Dogs are still being treated for nasty stick injuries, vets see a few each month. I can’t preach and stay stop it, but I can let anyone and everyone who cares know what a potential danger stick throwing is: better than being totally ingnorate of the risks.
What happened to Joe, and happens to dogs all over the world at a frighteningly all to often occasion was borne of ignorance, stupidity, even years of “that’s what we do with dogs”. We simply never thought about the consequences it could bring.
Historically, when man decided to have dogs as pets and not merely working companions (not all that long ago in the UK) chasing a stick was a favourite game. We’ve all seen the old adverts in faded yellows and reds with a boy, stick in hand and his faithful dog pantng happily as he waits for the ‘toy’ to be thrown. Why should we think it’s dangerous? We see things like celebs on the One Show with their dog, happily throwing it a stick, or in videos…. Dogs and stick throwing seems synonimous
These are but a few stories of reasons why we should try and change this……………..
https://mrsskeats.wordpress.com/2013/12/28/dont-let-another-good-dog-die-needlessly/
http://www.getwestlondon.co.uk/news/local-news/dog-saved-stick-throat-scare-6645241
http://www.croftreferrals.co.uk/news read Flick’s story
The list goes on.
Please think twice before you throw a stick for your dog to chase.
In memory of a beautiful dog, whose life will not ever have been in vain, but will mean so much more if we save others from pain.
9th June 2014, my son’s birthday, our trip to London to be ready for his flight to East Asia (again) on 10th.
9th June 2014, the realisation that no matter how many years we live apart he’s still one of my best friends and we’re as daft as each other.
9th June 2014 and hours upon hours of tube stations, walking, photos and eventually and finally getting absolutely drenched in the early/mid evening downpour.
9th June 2014 set off at 10 am for London. The trip was set so we were there in situ for him to catch his 10am flight after his brief visit from there to here (here being UK). We had to get his visa and passport first so Kings Cross to Oxford Circus, then locate the hotel then time was our own. … It went something like this…
Train, walk, tube, walk, rest, passport, walk, tube, discuss where the hell we need to go, choose the tube line, go the wrong way, go back again, get the tube to Finsbury, find out we could’ve gone the other way anyway, head to Brixton, get confused, look for Hounslow (location of hotel), confused whether east / central/ west, guess central, alight, walk YAY hotel…. So far it’s taken just under 5 hours to get his passport and locate our sleeping quarters.
Hotel was nice, small, but quiet and clean. We didn’t need frills as we only had a night to sleep there. Andrew suggested we go out sight-seeing. I wanted to sleep. Andrew wanted to sleep. Both decided sleep could come later (if only).
Around 3.30pm we left the hotel and decided to go into London, no idea where to, just see where we landed. First locate the tube station. Clever clogs mum.. it’s this way…we walk, no, not this way. We keep walking, Andrew wants a McFlurry, orders a choc brownie one, gets some other sort, complains to me but eats it anyway, we walk more, Andrew decides we’re going the wrong way, uses sat nav on phone, we are going the wrong way so back we go, locate tube, decide Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and the river… off we go. Tube is now massively crowded so 40 minutes standing. We alight with a struggle (no one will let you off if you’re not glued to the door already).
Once back in daylight Andrew goes one way I go the other, we’re confused again, then I spot flags and we head for them, almost die in a massive bicycle onslaught, take photos, more bikes, head for the park area find a seat and fall onto it, legs ache, blues and twos start tearing past us so nosey us went to see, they’d gone by the time we got there as we were delayed by astoundingly ‘tame’ squirrels and photo opportunities. Get to Buckingham Palace and photos from all angles, then towards St James’s. Through a park, photos, birds, talking, walking, rain – just a bit – it’s getting very cloudy, we’ll be ok, neither of us has a coat although he has a hoody, but we’ll be fine. Walk some more, talk some more, take pictures some more, more rain, still warm but wet now. We walk towards Big Ben, a few photos along the way, astounded by trees keeping everything so dry so tree hop to Big Ben. Rain eases. Many photos, buildings, clocks, statues, Andrew, river, Millenium Wheel, flags… Over to Westminster, raining a lot now, I’m soaked but we don’t care, a few more pictures then head back.
Tube easy to find, which way, we don’t know, guess, right guess, sit this time as tube almost empty, 40 minutes, Hounslow east, next one ours, tube slows, we’re talking, never felt the stop, tube speeds, that was our station, missed it, crap, off at Hounslow west – a long way off, deserted station, wait, hope, tube arrives, is, 8.45pm by now, back to Hounslow central, which way, this way, no not that far, rain is pouring, ah, hotel, we haven’t eaten all day so agree to go to the indian place across the way, but I have to get dry.
Finally we settle to eat and enjoy each others company, a quiet end to a great albeit trying and tiring day. We didn’t worry, we’d find our way eventually to anywhere.
Now to try and sleep before the 0630 start, trip to airport and he leaves me again for another year.
Well, today is it. The day I leave a company I have worked for since 5th June 2006 – and I’m numb.
I’d like to say I feel happy: new adventures and all that. I don’t! I could make a fuss and say I’m heartbroken. Well maybe later but right now I’m not. I’m numb.
It feels like I’ve lost a friend. In reality I have ‘lost’ a few. With all good intentions the colleagues I have shared 10 square foot of office space with for many years will say hi if they see me and maybe curse me when they find the one mistake I made one week last year. They may even mention me when a question gets asked ..”Oh Suzan used to do that”. But alas, life moves at a tremendous pace for most of us and within 6 months my ‘friends’ won’t think of me, nor me them. I have flowers and cards and gifts and well wishes galore but in the end I will fade like the flowers will into an “I remember her” moment for some.
I’ve lost my comfort zone, my bubble, my security blanket, and that is unsettling.
For 8 years now I have spent 4 or 5 days a week most of the year getting up and going through the motions of washing, dressing, packing lunch and heading out of the door with the sole aim of going into the office, doing a job in which I earned great kudos. Staff of all levels appreciated my efforts, acknowledged my skills and became slightly more than colleagues. We shared a few tears, lots and lots of laughter, a few squabbles and fights, sadness, joy… you get the drift. We were a family, like any other, just larger than most. And at 5pm, or 6 or 7 some days I would tidy my desk and go home, thinking about the next days’ tasks. What now though? This is like enforced retirement. You’d think I’d be happy. Over 50 and a chance for paid time off work with good health… but I wonder. Will I enjoy it or will I miss the buzz of the deadlines to be met?
I’ve been expecting this to happen since December – the thriving small company that we were was attractive to bigger flies and when the MD got ill, the bigger flies took the chance to swallow us up lock, stock and barrel – except for a tiny minority… 5 of us. We were surplus to requirements – CENTRALISATION was the way to go with our departments. I’ve been happy about it, sad about it, excited about the future , dismayed at the thought of leaving. But now the day has come……..I’m just numb.
Today is Saturday. The day of the week is actually rather irrelevant, but just a statement of fact at this moment in time.
Saturday is usually a mixture of day off, rest, play, a bit of housework and so on for me. Nothing too strenuous. I work 4 days in an office, 2 days online at home, look after house, husband, teen, 2 cats and 1 dog, so I give myself an “easy day” each week as a way to prevent complete and utter meltdown.
This particular day the plan was – sleep in a little; breakfast; walk Annie; coffee; work on a project on the pc; vac the house, coffee… well you get the idea. Busy but not strenuous.
Annie, my little treasure, my angel, my furry baby… had other ideas. Now don’t get me wrong, she didn’t do it on purpose. She was just being – well – A Dog.
to explain some of the problem, Annie is a rescue dog. We had two, but sadly lost Joe to an awful accident in December (please feel free to read my post about that-Don’t let another good dog die needlessly). Since losing Joe, Scaredy-pup Annie, who was just about gaining confidence went right back to square one. She’s from Romania, found in a rubbish heap as a puppy, kenneled with several more strays for what must have been an eternity for a puppy. A few months in Romanianan kennels and she was shipped to England, into kennels. February 2013 when it was estimated she was about 1 year old, we picked her. Fluffy, frightened and foreign. Reaction to uncertainty – she wee’d. She always does.
Now, that all seemed a little boring I’m sure, but the reason I put it down was that this issue was the start of upturning my planned ‘easy day’.
This is how my easy day actually went – thanks to the scaredy pup Annie.
8am:woken by husband offering large coffee. Sat in bed and sipped said coffee. Husband left for work. I played games on my phone, read emails and snuggled into my warm sheets, looking out at a sunny, but cold, English winter day.
9am : wash, dress, waddle downstairs for another cup of coffee and breakfast. Teen yapping in my ear about some inane teen talk. Let Annie into the garden; feed cats.
10am : let Annie in from garden, fat cat hisses at Annie, Annie bounces to play, mud all over the rug- we’ve had a very wet winter and the garden is getting quite boggy. I sigh, I’ll let it dry and vacuum it later.
10.15am : get Annie’s walking harness. Call Annie, teen stands by door still yapping. Annie so excited she wees. I sigh. Annie thinks she’s done wrong (she has but I try not to get angry – she can’t help it.). In response to that she wees as she walks back to her bed. She wee’s in her bed. I start mopping floor.
10.30am : we try again. This time I take harness to Annie, lay it in front of her. She knows it. She loves to walk and on a good day she will sit, raise paw to put one leg in the loop and so on. Today she’s nervous. Who knows why. Perhaps she’s heard some banging outside. Banging makes her nervous. Annie sniffs the harness to me cooing “wanna go walk?”. Tail wags, and dog wees.
10.45am : we’re out. A car goes by, Annie looks wide eyed at it. It’s going to be one of those days.
We walk through the woods, Annie has her fluffy white tail high, bouncing in the leaves, through the trees, over the fallen trunks, nose in this and that. Back on the lead we walk the path to the field. We meet a large growly dog and Annie hides behind me and wees. I walk her away, fully aware that I don’t need to stress her any more than she already is. We meet a black waggy dog. This is better. Nose to nose with waggy tails she greets him and vise versa. We reach the field.
Annie runs, bounces, hops, skips, jumps…………and rolls. “Oh Annie” escapes my lips once again. But this time she just doesn’t care. Every last bit of nasty, foul smelling, disgusting thing she could find on that field she rolled in. My shoulders slump. She’s loving it.
11.45am: I head home with one rank dog trotting happily by my side.
Now, what should have been a nice walk and a steady afternoon has now turned into a nice walk for Annie, an unwanted bath for Annie, an unwanted soaking for me, 2 carpets vacuumed, 2 carpets washed, and wet dog smell throughout the house.
I love Annie to bits and I know she’s a dog with issues. She’ll get over them, we love her too much to allow it to rule her forever… but why does she have to wee and roll in poo on my easy day 
I’m now off to have a genuine, exhausted, meltdown.
I have 2 dogs now.
After losing my faithful Dizzi on New Years Eve 2008 I held back from getting another. I did not want to replace my friend. She’d been with me and my family for 17 and 3/4 years (we say 18 for ease). My son was 4 and my daughter was 6, so we all grew as a family with Dizzi.
After finally feeling that the loss was bearable at some point last year (2012) I set about constantly hinting, whining, nagging, and such at my husband for another dog. Late last year he agreed. The search began. I set myself realistic targets, rules for type, size, age, gender etc. I trawled websites for rescue centres. That was my main aim. I wanted – a rescue dog, a female, 2 – 4 years old so out of the chewing everything stage, mid size, not fluffy (dogs shedding hair constantly is not my preference), quiet-ish, but most of all, one that reached my heart.
I looked at the RSPCA sites, I found one, she got rehomed before I even got to look at her in the flesh. I looked daily.
Oooo that one’s lovely, and aaah that one’s cute eminated from me and my stepdaughter. Hubby was not enthused. He did want us to have a dog, if only to shut me up, be he holds his feelings in reserve to save disappointment – my son’s like that so I understood.
Now two factors started to come into play, one I anticipated, money – to rescue a mutt in the UK from a centre currently costs upwards of £100, and that’s before you buy insurance, bedding, toys, food etc. We’re not rich. We’re not really poor, we just don’t have a lot and work hard to earn what we have, and it’s spent on the rising costs of living far too quickly. So, whilst hunting, I saved money, I collected food – a tin a week in the shopping didn’t get noticed, I scrounged for old throws for bedding and so on.
By Jan 2013 still no dog. My search went to twice daily until……………..
I mentioned it with a woeful tone to my line manager at work. He’s an animal man through and through and lost his dog to kidney failure in the December. He doesn’t mourn his friends in the same way as I – he rather prefers to think he’s doing his best for a dog each time he has one (he had 4 at one point, the eldest of these died age 15 2 years ago). SO he was soon trailing Norfolk looking for another to save. He found a rescue centre 50 odd miles away from base but was soon enthusing about their attitude and work and the fact that he went for one dog and came back with two.(bear that in mind as you read)
SO, I searched them on the internet and got in touch. I saw photo’s of a lonely female collie 2 years, shy, short haired – perfect… but I hadn’t got enough money. Katie was her name. Please wait Katie I said daily. The stepdaughter ooo’d and aaaah’d at the pictures. The rest of January came and went. Katie was still there.
We had a family loss, husband’s nan, and so he said I had to wait until March – let things settle. I agreed and Katie went to another home.
Then mid Feb, the centre brought across a bunch of dogs from Romania. They were gorgeous. All shapes and sizes and ages etc. I picked a couple. We went the 50+ miles one Sunday. After following a winding road to what seemed to be the depths of nowhere, we found F.A.I.T.H (For Animals In Trouble (there’s) Hope).
Now here’s where plans went wrong but in the best way ever.
We spotted the dog we had ‘picked’ from the website. Another spotted us and Paul took to it’s laughable pushing-for-a fuss attitude. The staff said to just wander and look and call if we needed help.
We looked. We found pigs (another story indeed). We found cats, stepdaughter was now gushing and pleading (a cat preference for her even though we have two already). We were even introduced to 2 resident peacocks. All very entertaining but I wanted my dog.
We looked and looked again, but only one touched my heart.
‘Chloe’ as she was called was shy and reserved. We asked to walk her, and it was more a case of drag and run and she tried to hide or run off whichever she deemed necessary at the time. This was going to be work. But I liked her.
So we asked for information. Female is about the only pre-requisite box she ticked. Chloe was large, fluffy, like a small german shepherd (in fact she’s a romanian shepherd dog we have found since), never been in a house let alone trained in any way, raw from the streets, then kennels of Romania and only 1 year old. But she was mine. I knew it. I could feel it.
So we walked a few others, but each time I looked longingly back at her, and to my surprise she did the same for me. Stepdaughter noticed. Husband noticed. But she didn’t tick all of the boxes so I looked for one that did.
My heart could not be over ruled. All the rest were too old, too loud, too male, too skittish, too temperamental … the excuses flowed.
So we had lunch and a chat and eventualy took ‘Chloe’ out again. We had travelled for 2 hours, walked various dogs for another 2 and I knew I couldn’t have left without her. Carrying cage was in the car ready. She was mine and I hers.
So then the question – how much? £130. Oooya! But I was prepared. I had saved for months.
What happened next I didn’t expect, want, need or could afford but somehow it happened.
Just as I was signing papers to make this fluffly mini german sherherd type 1 year old dog my own, a staff member came to us and said ‘before your sign for her do you want to look at a collie we have?’
Now Dizzi was a mixed collie. I say mixed not crossed as her mum was a bearded collie / border collie cross and her dad was a pure bred rough collie. I love collies. But No, I had my girl. The staff member listened to husbands “ok we’ll look” response rather than my ‘I’m busy with MY dog’ growl under my breath.
The next thing I knew a dog was sat next to my legs. He was lovely, true black and white, long haired border collie with the lightest brown eyes twinkling at me.
Please, please, oh lets walk him, were the cries from my human companions. HIM!? I don’t want a boy dog. I fail with boy dogs. I never can train boy dogs. I don’t know why but I can’t. I protested as the lead went on his neck. I protested as we walked the country lane. I protested as we walked again but this time with Chloe in tow ‘to see if they get on’.
To See If They Get On?! Who cares? I can afford one dog. I want only one dog. I want this young FEMALE dog.
Another £60 lighter I came home with Chloe – who has since been renamed Annie, but I also came home with a 6 year old male collie who was called Jodie – since renamed Joe.
We got him for ‘half price’ because he’d been at the centre a while after recovering from severe injuries from beatings and dog baiting attacks. Husband and stepdaughter adore him. I like him. I love Annie.
Having the two has had it’s benefits though. Annie learns from Joe, we had a mere 3 puddles in the house and she’s house trained. She walks on the lead beside him. And they are company for each other when we’re out. I don’t regret having Joe. I love having my fluffy Annie, even if I do have to clean up dog hair every day.
My Dizzi smiles at me from her photo and in my dreams. I think she approves too.
(https://www.facebook.com/nature.association.romania is just one rescue gourp, there are more). Dogs there are vermin to most people. They are left roaming, often chased down and maimed or even killed for fun, but they are still breeding in the thousands. Here in the UK we have a dog problem, in Romania it’s a dog crisis. 
Joe
Annie
It’s 27 May 2013 and I’ve had yet another notification from a friend that she has lost another family member to the grim reaper and that her one remaining dog (after having two put down earlier this year) had to be rushed to the vet and seems to have had a stroke affecting his mobility amongst other things.
This set me to thinking, something I do a lot of but get nowhere with…
Is 2013 a particularly horrific year for everyone, just a minority or is it simply because I’m getting to that age… you know, the one where everyone who was old when you were 20 is now ancient and therefore knocking at, if not going through death’s door..
Personally I fear it’s a combination but maybe I’m missing an angle.
Only a few months ago, a young fella I knew from when he was merely 11years old, a snotty schoolkid knocking at the door for one of mine – he commited suicide, only 27 years of age. A month later, a colleague I know well suffered a much deeper heartache for the same reason. It was his son who hung himself, age 26.
These events were 2012 but towards the end of…. which led to the particularly dreadful 2013 start. My husband’s nan died January, my good friend’s brother died February and she had to have 2 dogs put down due to one having a heart attack and the other having cancer, in March my sister-in-law died, in April another good friend found out that they’d lost their job, then was diagnosed with cancer, 4 work colleagues have been diagnosed with various cancers……and finally May, the one who lost her brother has just also lost her grandpa and her remaining dog has just had a stroke and my cousin in Australia has just had to have a pacemaker fitted and is very poorly- and I only found out she existed 6 months or so ago!…………
Now, one would think it a string of coincidences based on ages etc, include the dogs in that – but no. If you recall, 1st person only 27 and the 2nd 26. OK, Nan was 96 but the brother was 54. The dogs were 6, 8 and the eldest remaining, but sickly now, is 10.and so on. No, age isn’t the reason, it can only be factored in as part of…
On a personal note, we as a family suffered massively financially for a decision I made 7 years ago – it catches you in the end. Nothing illegal or immoral I hasten to add… I just tried to help someone but never thought it through, never considered the what ifs. Then with 2 funerals in the family in as many months, work pressures, the resident offsprings natural mother causing grief, the resident offsprings sisters adding to that grief, the boiler broke, the electricity bill was massive, a cat got sick, cost a fortune, got well again, I suffered a mini (and they call it silent) heart attack, more on that another day……… life in general seems to be knocking my legs from under me almost daily.
So, such a sad year for many.
We don’t have to go far to read daily other peoples’ struggle with 2013 either … Drummer Lee Rigby being the most prominent in current news.. actions so horrific, barbaric and aimed at dividing a nation. The family hear the sorry for your losses and many condolences… but behind the doors is this the first this year for them or simply the worst?
Tornadoes, plane crashes, earthquakes, killings, threats of violence, wars, economic struggles and ruin, threats against religion and religious ceremonies. … Life seems to be rocked at every corner of the world more so this year that ever.
But why?
Is it ‘fate’? Has the world literally ‘gone mad’?
I fear it is mainly coincidence…sad but still coincidence. Some of the actions- the hacking of a soldier, the hanging of self, these are results of today’s pressure in life and expectations of redemption in one twisted way or another. Those dying of diseases, sadly just a time where I personally know people who are older and more susceptible. Natural disasters always happen, and perhaps the angry planet is getting a little more ferocious but I’m sure records have shown worse.
No, there’s nothing sinister about 2013 that isn’t just life bludgeoning on in it’s own interminable way, dragging souls, killing those who, for whatever reason can’t keep up. It’s not the end of the world, or bad just because 13 is ‘unlucky’. It’s not worse now than it’s ever been. It’s the same as its always been, we… or maybe I should say ‘I’ just notice more.
2013… unlucky for some, Chinese year of the snake – translated to ‘full of obstacles’, some viscious in nature, full of solar flares and economic mismanagement… yeah – a bad year……….isn’t it?
mrsskeats 