The image beside is not the sweet little pup in question. I don’t believe I actually have any pictures of him. This image is Ben, possibly a distant cousin, who bears a strong enough resemblance to be a stand-in.
The sweet little thing was not my own dog, but rather my neighbour’s. He died last night. Mostly of neglect, but specifically of some unknown illness.
He was a darling, sweet, bright, affectionate, playful little thing always. No matter how they yelled at him, or anything they did he just wanted to play.
He was rarely brought enough to eat or drink except what myself and another neighbour gave him out of pity. Still he only ever wanted to play and have his muzzle & ears scratched and his head petted. Love and play were about the only words in his whole soul.
Unfortunately we all assumed he was better off in bad care than in the local shelter. We live in a county with one of the highest kill rates in the entire country (for my foreign readers, there are things barbarisms, such as the US, wherein animal shelters will simply euthanise an animal because (s)he has been there for a week). And animal rescue is, technically, illegal in Georgia.
Yes, you read that right. Wildlife rescue not so much. Strays? Legally you’re required to take them to the aforementioned shelter or, by preference, call animal control to do it; though this one isn’t much enforced. And finally pets — you cannot rescue them. It carries a heavy fine and a prison sentence even if the animal is indisputably being abused! There was a big case about that when someone tried to rescue an animal being mistreated by a neighbour; you may only call animal control, the officers of which, due to the high kill rate, will frequently just give warnings over and over again rather than take the animal (and others on power trips who will take the animal on the smallest provocation, ah the US government at work)
No he was not beaten … well, not often that we know of — she’d have actually had to get close enough to touch the dog for that, something she was clearly loathe to do and vehemently discouraged the children living in the home to do. Yes, she got a dog and then kept it, when tiny, at arms’ length, then as a bigger puppy (knee high at the top of his head) at brooms’ length. He wasn’t starved, exactly. Regardless, he became quite sick. This happens when you consider a dog spoilt who will not drink that has, in her own words, got “nasty”, and fed nothing but bread and old milk for days at a time.
Yes, she expected the dog to drink unclean water. She wouldn’t water him if it’d been raining — assuming he could just drink the rain water (frankly, a likely healthier choice than the local tap water … and her was rather eager to lap the stuff out of his fur, and the puddles) and fed him things that held no significant nutrition for a human, let alone a carnivore.
What was it? Worms maybe, though if so not one of the kinds that leaves the dog bloated; he was skin and bones. Maybe some stomach bug he caught from his poor conditions. Maybe it was parvo.
He died, mostly, alone. He became ill a bit over three days ago — I heard him throwing up one night while I was out playing with my own sweet little pup. I didn’t see him again for two days after. Silly me, I assumed he was inside or at a vet or something. Sorry, sometimes I have delusions. No, he’d just curled up in his dog house and not moved for two days. In that time there hadn’t been a single sign of water or food — enhancing the illusion he wasn’t outside those days.
Yesterday afternoon I was informed that today “the dog people” would be coming to get him because he’s sick and she can’t afford to get him treated. No sadness, she didn’t even look at the dog who — despite being skin and bone, and too exhausted to flick his ear to dislodge a swarm of flies that’d landed there — had stood up to greet her with all the excitement his little body could manage … which was pretty much the standing and looking expectant. His heart broke when she just went back inside. So did mine.
Last night he laid down beside our shared fence near a spot where he and my pup would often play and died looking toward our yard. His person out front oblivious. Sadly in the dark he’d been invisible until my little pup noticed something wrong. The little nose that can smell that it’s Thursday, thirty-three minutes past eight AM, and the Prime Minister of England had poached eggs and toast with marmalade today I guess … well, he suddenly became frantic about getting to his buddy and then hesitant to go near.
Now I regret never having called animal control on her. If I had well, that little puppy very likely still wouldn’t be alive today, but at the same time … he’d have died more quickly and humanely (for all it’s faults, at least this shelter doesn’t do gas chambers or other such horrific Auschwitz-esque things). I can’t honestly believe that his person will miss him, but he will be missed; by myself and some of his neighbours.
It’s at times like these when I pray that there are such things as Karma, Hell, Tartarus, or Nifelheim. Simply because one has to believe that some justice will be served because the legal system certainly won’t be lifting a finger to serve it.
I’m going to set aside the portion of what I earn from Love or Lust sales today and tomorrow and donate them to the ASPCA.
Might I recommend, those of you who already have bought the book or don’t plan to (or simply can’t today or tomorrow), consider dropping over there and making a donation, or if not to them, perhaps to your local animal rescue charity.
Maureen is a student at Harvard University where she is taking her first strides toward becoming a paediatric psychiatrist.
Maureen has always been a highly academic young woman, and currently is taking as full a course load as her school will allow and each semester, including summer, that is offered. She plans to get ten years of school in, at least, six.
She volunteers her time with tutoring her favourite subject, English, and by this met her boyfriend, Kaede.
Emmy, as Maureen is often called by Gramps (short for Emily Post), is a fastidious and very Proper young woman. She has always, even at a young age, preferred to dress very well and very neatly, she took her lessons in etiquette and decorum to heart, and is always well spoken and polite. Though her maternal grandfather was something of a corruptive influence, possibly genetically, as she has his habit of calling people by random nicknames — though, unlike him, she doesn’t do it to everyone nor in any and sundry circumstance.
By her own opinion she got next to no colour from her parents. With regards to features she got her mother’s striking blue eyes, her father’s blonde hair — though she did get a red tint from Yvette, and through an interesting blending of skin types she barely freckles let alone tan. Makeup quickly became as automatic to Maureen, therefore, as breathing; this has lead to teasing from Lauren and a few of her friends with variations on the idea of calling her a China doll.
Many people unaccustomed to her find Maureen a contradiction. Dressed as immaculately and primly as she is, they would expect her to be stuck up or a bit prissy at worst, certainly very squeamish and reluctant to go near even a little dust, but she isn’t. She is a very personable young woman who, while conscious of her clothes and careful of actually ruining them, is largely unconcerned with soiling her wardrobe; she will gladly engage in work on the farm, or help her parents in the garden, or perform household chores without the faintest hesitation.
Kaede is Maureen’s boyfriend, a fellow student at Harvard, and her own student in an English tutoring program.
Kaede is studying to become a paediatric surgeon with a general specialisation in newborns — though his exact speciality he has not yet decided. His dream is to be one of those saving the lives of newborns whose hearts are malformed, or not working properly — or lungs, livers, etc.
He and Maureen met when she was working to tutor him in English, a language he is functional in, but purely academically — he felt he needed work in conversational English. She asked him to coffee, he asked her to dinner, and the romance grew from there.
He is a shy, quite man. Timid, and exceedingly urban — he was born and raised in Tokyo — he is fascinated by his girlfriend’s more rural and domestic skills, especially those that relate to Granny’s farm.
When he isn’t trying to become a first rate doctor, or working to be a first rate boyfriend, he can be found reading comic books and building model planes, or studying ancient Arabian swords and artwork.
More modern minded than his parents, as are many of his siblings, so has augmented his sales in local grocer‘s shops with an online honey and beeswax store.
Marcia, his wife, makes a hobby of candle making. Using the wax supplied by her husband to make various scented candles from oils and herbs. When she isn’t making candles, Marcia runs a web design business.
The happy couple have three children, a daughter and two sons: Gloria, Adam, and Jeremy.
Janet is a quiet, brusque young woman who generally knows what she wants and does it or gets it. She is at the top of her class in grades, she is an accomplished pianist, practices gymnastics, and competitively figure skates.
Her tastes in clothes, music, books, and art tend to leave most people rather fazed — she doesn’t tend to strike anyone who’s heard her practising Mozart and Bach, or discussing Beethoven’s symphonies at any length, as the sort to favour bands like Apocolyptica and Rhapsody of Fire, nor does anyone who has ever heard of her accomplishments tend to picture someone whose clothes seem to come in equal measure from a normal Juniors’ department, Hot Topic, and a burlesque show’s costumer.
She’s been dating Travis since a few days after the 2009-2010 school year let out, and the two get along one moment like fire and ice, the next like fire and gasoline.
Many of her friends tend to see her as having no sense of humour. She tells few jokes, laughs rarely — and little when she does, and often just cocks her head at other people’s jokes. She’s a very serious person, and can be unintentionally a little rude or harsh when talking to people, except when teaching. Part of the fees she ‘pays’ her skating, gymnastics, and piano instructors is assisting them with lessons, a task she takes to happily and with saintly patience. Her plans include a Nobel prize in astrophysics and to run a figure skating school (her favourite among her various endeavours); she’s currently working very hard to secure a scholarship to attend MIT.
A small, 800 population town outside of Estes Park, Colorado to the north and east.
The Rocky Mountain National Park surrounds the town, and much of it is even within the park itself, and is the entire economy of the town; the populous mostly relies on tourism in the form of trail rides, camping and fishing supplies, curios and souvenirs shops, and — as with many small towns — a ‘quaint downtown’ comprised of antique stores, diners, restaurants, and similar.
Those not engaged with horses, or tourism are largely well off professionals from surrounding cities, like Estes Park, living in the peace and tranquility of the country.
Falcon Grove is a town outside of Tacoma, Washington by approximately 30-45 minutes, and nearly a full hour outside of most major portions of Seattle. It’s located south and East of both cities.
It is a small town, comprising some 5000 souls, and home to two of the area’s high schools, Sam Clemens and Immaculate Conception, and home of several affluent neighbourhoods.
During the last decade of the 19th century the town was a popular place for the well to-do of the Seattle/Tacoma business elite to get away to the country, or for the especially well off to live out of the smell and bustle of the city. The town is still filled with many rather affluent neighbourhoods, large homes, manors, and a few mansions. Though it did also become a Mecca in parts of its history for the area middle classes looking for a quieter, more idyllic life than in the major urban centres. As the town grew it attracted speciality shops to cater to the affluent audience — cafés, restaurants, boutiques, etc.
In present times parts of Falcon Grove run into other neighbouring communities, and several surrounding towns are indistinguishable from one another — all being primarily suburbs of the larger Tri-Cities area — and filled with, largely, upper middle class to lower upper class professionals commuting and telecommuting into their respective Redmond, Seattle, Tacoma, and Bellevue offices.
Elizabeth is Lucas’ second youngest sister, and third youngest sibling. She has moved onto the farm with Granny where she, her husband Mark, and their three children help take care of the place.
Liz never moved far from home, having met Mark while she was in high school, and married him shortly after graduation. She had never had intentions to go to college, instead having hopes to open a small grocer‘s shop in Winthrop for selling local produce, maple syrups, and similar. Mark’s brother gave them the deed to little downtown store that she could set up in as a wedding gift — he does real estate speculation for a hobby and always has several properties on hand. The shop has stayed open, though never has it been described as thriving.
Mark has a master’s degree in English literature and teaches at the local high school.
Their three children include twin girls, Crystal Madara and Leanne Bethany, and their very young son, Alex Emanuel
Shock and amaze your OCD writer friends: A C entry on D-day! Flipping through my notes I realised I should have done an entry for Charlie yesterday. So here it is today, instead.
Charlie is a brilliant, and woefully adolescent young man. He has a genuinely good mind for programming, electronics, and other aspects of computer design. He’s been known to use software modelling tools to design chips and circuits for fun, and owns (and uses) an oscilloscope as well as an Altair 8800, and built a working scale replica-amalgamation of his favourite early transistor and tube computers in his parents basement that he’s been forbade to ever turn on again after they got the light bill from his first day of trying to use it.
He’s an old friend of Zach’s, their parents having met while the boys were very small through their work; the two have been getting each other into trouble of various sorts since they were six.
Despite his geekish and childish behaviour, Charlie can be a very nice guy; sweet, charming, and thoughtful being completely relative terms and not applicable in all vocabularies, but he’s certainly nice.
He takes a deep pride in being That Guy Everyone Comes To For Their Computer Troubles, which he shortens to TGECTFTCT and seems genuinely confused when told that it doesn’t make that a less awkward title — though it did look impressive on the business cards he made in eighth grade.
His current passion is graphics design, and has been studying hard so that he can get a job with somewhere like ILM, Pixar, DreamWorks, or one of his favourite computer game companies.
Jaye Em Edgecliff 