Come play with me, come play all day

A Tail At A Time's next opportunity to help save the homeless kitties of New York City. More info here.

It's catching, like H1N1, only funner

How about a little vintage Valentine:

Christmas, 2005

Tuesday was Valentine's 4th Rescue Anniversary. I just realized that. Four years ago this past Tuesday, Michael and I were spending another afternoon at the Los Angeles Animal Shelter in Van Nuys. We had been fostering dogs from a local rescue group for about five months and we knew we were finally ready to adopt a dog of our own. We didn't want to adopt through a no-kill rescue because even though they are the rescues we support, we knew that those dogs were safe. A dog in a no-kill rescue is a saved dog. We wanted to go right to the source and find a city shelter dog close to the euth list*. Since all of our foster dogs had been large and cat-hungry, we wanted to find a dog small enough that if it tried to go after Toby or Amelia it would get it's little dog-butt kicked. We didn't care about the age, sex or breed.

We drove to the shelter on a cool Monday afternoon with the top down on the Mustang and Bing Crosby's White Christmas playing on the stereo while we held hands over paper cups of holiday coffee. We were in love and it was Christmas and we were adopting a puppy. Well, probably not a puppy, probably a fully grown dog, but still.

That afternoon we met lots of dogs who were sweet and terrified and each one broke my heart a thousand times. But I couldn't make a choice. They were all great dogs; how could I choose one and not the other? I fell hard for a ten-year-old blind three-legged chihuahua whom I wanted to name 'Scrappy', but Mike felt uncomfortable making a commitment to a dog that would clearly require medical care well beyond our budget. I couldn't argue with that. We went home that night with empty arms and heavy hearts.

The next day, December 8, 2005, we decided to try again, only this time we spent the drive to Van Nuys in silence. I was dreading the afternoon. I hated the cold corridors and full cages at the pound. I didn't want to have to wander from kennel to kennel listening to the terrified crying of hundreds of beautiful, discarded dogs. I didn't want to have to choose one and turn my back on the rest.

We hadn't been at the pound for very long when I found Mike squatting in front of a little, yellow, rat-like mutt. I had had enough. I buried my face in his shoulder.

"Let's go. I'm done here."

"What do you mean? We just got here." He looked surprised.

"I can't do this right now. This was a terrible idea. Let's just go home." I'd lost hope.

"Hold on. We can go if you want, but before we do, did you see this one?"

He was pointing at the little yellow dog, a scrawny thing with a terrible over-bite, big sagging nipples and a rat tail. She was stretched up against the chain-link, her paws hooked so that she looked like she was hanging on for dear life, but her tail wagged happily. There were eight other dogs in the kennel with her, every one cowering in the back corner.

"Can we just go? Please?" I turned to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's just take her out and say hi."

I turned back to him. The little dog cocked her head to one shoulder. I took a step closer and knelt down. She was kind of cute. Kind of ugly, but kind of cute. One of her little cellmates crept up beside her, tail wagging, looking for some love. She whipped her head around, bared her buck teeth and snapped at the perceived intruder.

"Whoa. Did you see that? She's all, Keep away, Bitch! These are MY people!"

Mike grinned at me. "You want to take her out?"

I did.

That was how we met Valentine. All we know about her life before us is what we read on her kennel card: She'd been picked up off the street on October 26, 2005. No tags, no chip. No one had claimed her, no one had come looking for her. She was an unaltered female, one to two-years-old. In bold red ink the card warned, "To be handled with CAUTION."

She hasn't changed that much. She looks less like a buck-toothed rat and more like a dog, but I'd still recommend handling her with caution. Why we chose her over all those other dogs? We didn't. She chose us. If you've ever adopted a pet, you know exactly what I mean.

Please note the rat-tail.

But actually, I didn't even mean to tell you that story, this was supposed to be a post about Christmas but then I sat down to write and found that photo of Valentine and remembered what day it was** and I ended up writing this. The title of this post actually refers to the post I intended to write, only now it doesn't make any sense at all.

Anyway, my point is that there's been a lot going on lately and time is passing so quickly that I cannot even believe Christmas is in less than three weeks. It's not that I'm feeling grinchy or scroogey, I just don't feel like it's Christmas yet. It can't be. It was just summer YESTERDAY.

Only it wasn't. Yesterday it was freezing and I had to wear six layers of clothing under my heavy wool coat and I was cold anyway. Yes, I'm completely exaggerating, but it is in the low thirties and even though Mike, who was raised in Michigan, keeps telling me that it's not cold out, I grew up in the San Fernando Valley where it is currently seventy-five and beachy and I say that it is VERY COLD OUT.

So apparently Christmas is going to be here in a minute and I'm completely unprepared. But I am getting into the holiday spirit anyway, and even beginning to enjoy it, as you can see with my new holiday header.

Isn't that great, by the way? That would have been our Christmas card this year, but Mike was worried about offending people, so instead our Christmas card is completely benign and completely boring. My dream Christmas card would be all of us at Frosty-licious doing the nativity. Theo could be the baby Jesus, Mike would be Joseph, I'd be Mary, the cats would be the angels and Valentine would be pooping in the corner***. Wouldn't that be great?

This post is now so full of random segue's that if I don't sign out soon I'll start writing about the audition I have tomorrow for my favorite show ever and I wouldn't want to do that, so I'll say good night.

Coming up next: A post about why Christmas is like the Swine Flu!

*Euthanasia list

**We don't actually do anything in celebration of the pets adoption days, it's just nice to take note.

***In case you didn't know, in Catalonia, Spain, it is traditional for the nativity to have a little pooping man. His name is El Caganer and here is a blurb from Wikipedia if you don't believe me.

Spain

El caganer

In 2005, the city council of Barcelona, Spain commissioned a nativity scene which did not include the region's traditional nativity figure, elcaganer, a red-capped defecating character which is not a part of the nativity narrative but simply an expression of the irreverent scatological humour of southwestern Europe.^[51] The council claimed the character set a bad example as sanitation laws against public elimination had recently been passed.^[52] The council's decision was viewed as an attack on Catalonian tradition, and, following a campaign against it, el caganer was restored to the nativity scene in 2006. In addition to the traditional caganer, other characters have appeared assuming the caganerposition. In 2008, a "pooper" of Barack Obama was made available just days after his election as the President of the United States of America.^[53]

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out.:

Me: Good afternoon, Blapity-Bloop, how can I help you?

Caller: I'm very upset because I was expecting a call from Marjorie this week and it's already Wednesday and she hasn't called me yet.

Me: Marjorie is in a session with a patient. I would be happy to take a message for you.

Caller: I don't want to leave a message. She said she would call me on Monday and now it's Wednesday.

Me: You sound very frustrated. What can I do to help?

Caller: NOTHING. WHY DIDN'T SHE CALL ME?

Me: I wish I knew. May I take a message for you?

Caller: No. I just think it's very unprofessional that she didn't call me back.

Me: I'm sorry you feel that way. What can I do?

Caller: Nothing. I mean, what kind of professional doesn't return calls?

Me: Would you like me to leave a message?

Caller: No. Don't you think she should have called me?

Me: I'm sure that she has the best intentions. What can I do to assist you?

Caller: THIS IS RIDICULOUS. THIS OFFICE IS SO UNPROFESSIONAL. I'M VERY DISAPPOINTED.

Me: ...

Caller: .... Hello?

Me: So shall I tell her you called?

This, dear readers, is why I keep worms for friends, instead of people. Behold the worms!!

The newest addition to our little family, these are the worms as seen from the outside of their worm condo. The worm condo is constructed from a fine plastic storage box with plenty of air holes. These little guys, there are about one thousand of them, will eat all our kitchen scraps and then we will use their poop as fertilizer on all our plants.

Mmmm. Cozy worm bedding.

Mmmm. Kitchen scraps = worm food

I'm finally composting. I have wanted to compost for at least a year now, and when I discovered vermicomposting I nearly passed out I was so excited. When I picked these beauties up last Wednesday, (thank you Lower East Side Ecology Center!) I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Aren't they beautiful?

There are two worms here. An adult and a juvenile.

They breed like rabbits worms.

I always dreamed of getting closer to the earth and living a greener life, even before it became fashionable. It turns out all I had to do was move to a place entirely made up of concrete and glass and voila! I'm just a big ol' hippie now.

P.S. Anyone who's interested in creating ecosystems (I'm talking to you, Vamp) should seriously check it out. It's amazing.

Reaching Out

All right, you guys. I'm sorry I haven't posted in seven (gasp!) days, but things have been hectic. I will resume regular posting tomorrow, but in the mean time, I wanted to share some exciting news with you.

Ready?

I just applied to AmeriCorps. 

I'm really excited. I was in the process of applying for the NYC Teaching Fellowship and today they sent me an email about a new program called NYC Civic Corps. Were I to be hired, it would be my job to help organize volunteering programs in NYC, either for healthcare, education, environmental issues, neighborhood safety, strengthening communities or emergency preparedness. Talk about doing something that matters, man. I'm shaking I'm so excited.

Wish me luck!

The Bangkok Five - CD and Video Release Info

If you're in LA, hit the Viper Room Thursday, June 12th for a party so hot it will make your head explode.

I'll take an apple with that epiphany, thanks

Yesterday I went to Duane Reade to pick up some face wash and I ended up getting some Epiphany as well.

I was standing in the girly aisle, looking for this Oil of Olay foaming face wash that I'd tried recently and really liked. I'd run out of my usual facial cleanser the day before and knew it would be at least three days until I would be able to go to the only place in Manhattan that carries it, so I needed to get something to tide me over. I can't just not wash my face for three days, after all. 

I've had problems with my skin since I first hit puberty. I've been Acne Girl for most of my life. I've tried every acne treatment under the sun including but not limited to: ProActive, vitamins and herbal supplements, cortisone injections in my face, Accutane (which made me bleed out of my anus for six months) (no, unfortunately, I'm not kidding), over $5,000 of laser treatments (which I thankfully didn't have to pay for, but still), regular facials, prescription meds, over-the-counter meds, Microdermabrasion, the list goes on and on. After all this, I have discovered that A) my acne is hormonal B) my acne is exacerbated by anything that dries my skin out even a teensy bit and C) my skin looks the best when I wash it with super gentle cleansers and use tons of moisturizer. With all this in mind, it's kind of a big deal that I tried a new cleanser that I really like and that doesn't cost $20 AN OUNCE. And as I'm standing there searching the Oil of Olay products for the foaming face wash I’m planning to buy, I'm fantasizing about how this new cleanser is going make my skin so be-a-u-tiful and how I'll save money in the process since it's $7 for 12 ounces and the other stuff I've been using is $20 for ONE OUNCE. I find the cleanser and happily pull it off the shelf, admiring the snazzy label and smiling at how clever I'm being and how much money I'm saving. I flip the bottle over in my hand just to be sure the back label has the four magic words I always look for: Not Tested On Animals. And they aren’t there. To add insult to injury, I discover that Oil of Olay is distributed by the Godfather of ALL Evil Corporations, Proctor & Gamble*. My heart sinks. I really want to buy the cleanser because it is cheap and I believe it will not cause me to break out, but I really don’t want to buy something that is A) tested on animals and B) distributed by the demons at P&G. And as I’m standing there, I swear to you, a little red cartoon devil pops up on my left shoulder and whispers, “It’s ok. Just buy it. Your skin will be so beautiful! Just buy it this one time. One bottle of the stuff doesn’t kill or save a rabbit.” And then a little white cartoon angel pops up on my right shoulder, “Really? Can you REALLY live with yourself if you wash your face with something that was shot into the eyes of a rabbit just to see if it would burn his little rabbit eyes?” The cartoon angel won. I put the bottle back on the shelf and picked up a different product. I can’t remember every product I looked at that afternoon, but I will tell you that I looked at about seven different products and of the seven, all but one were either distributed by P&G or did not claim no animal testing. Only one. So I bought that. But I’ve gotta say, it was really really frustrating to spend upwards of twenty minutes trying to find a face wash that wasn’t distributed by P&G and wasn’t tested on animals. And the whole time I was looking for something I would not feel guilty buying, the little cartoon devil was sitting on my shoulder trying to convince me to just forget it, don’t worry about it, just buy what I want to buy because I’m not gonna make much a difference no matter what I do, I’m only one person.

And it hit me, for the first time ever, what that story** about Adam and Eve and the Tree of Knowledge really means.

As it is told in the Bible, God didn’t want Adam and Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge and they didn’t know why. But once they disobeyed Him and ate the fruit of that world-changing tree, they figured it out pretty quick. They ate the apple and were suddenly filled with shame over the nakedness of their bodies and they were suddenly aware of their sins and blah blah blah, right? So, as I am figuring it, and till now I’ve honestly really never given it much thought, if they hadn't eaten the fruit, they would’ve lived their lives happily oblivious to their nakedness and their various sins. It was only because they had knowledge that they felt shame and guilt.

Is the Bible saying that people should be ignorant? I mean, I think what it is saying is that if you have knowledge, you experience shame and guilt. If you are ignorant, you live in happiness. Like that old phrase, “Ignorance is bliss”. Is there an old phrase meaning “Knowledge is torture”? Maybe there should be.

This popped into my head because I’m standing in the aisle at Duane Reade wishing that I didn’t know anything about P&G, that I didn’t know about animal testing, that I didn’t care about my carbon footprint, that I didn’t give a shit about nutrition or the overall health of my body. I’m standing in Duane Reade reading the backs of bottles and wishing that I was completely ignorant of all this shit that seems to only make my life more complicated. But I am not ignorant and I do know and I, personally, cannot take the guilt that comes along with ignoring the facts.

I’ve eaten from the Tree of Knowledge.

I’m fucked.

*Proctor and Gamble admittedly does terrible things to animals during testing. Terrible, disgusting, awful things that are so disturbing I won’t write about them here. But I will tell you that P&G spends more money per year advertising that they are using “alternatives” to cruel animal testing than they spend on trying to find actual alternatives to cruel animal testing. And they test on dogs and cats too. Just so you know. If you are interested in learning more, check out www.uncaged.co.uk.

**I hope I’m not offending any of my readers (all four of you) by calling it a story. Isn’t that what it is, though? I have no idea.

"Eat food. Not too much. Mostly Plants"

This is one of those perfect nights. Poompy is cooking dinner, I'm perched on a stool in the kitchen, we're chatting about our day and interesting things we've read and upcoming plans we have while we sip a delicious red wine. Even the pups are happy - trotting around in circles, following Poompy's feet as he cooks and, inevitably, drops tasty bits on the floor for their doggy delight.

I'm particularly excited about the meal Poompy is making because he is using ingredients that I chose from several local farms. The kale, portabello mushrooms, tomatoes and artichoke are all organic and locally grown. And the duck! oh the duck! The duck came from a local duck farm that promises that all of its ducks live happy, full lives, swimming in ponds and flying around and eating delicious ducky food like tadpoles and larvae and plants... we're going to eat a duck that had a long, happy, beautiful life. A duck that lived the way a duck should live. Until it became our dinner. But I digress.

I have always carried the sneaking suspicion that people would be happier and healthier if their food was happy and healthy. I've always believed that we should eat more plants than anything else, that if and when we choose to eat meat we should eat meat that comes from an animal who lived the life it was meant to live and ate what it was meant to eat instead of spending a sad life locked in a pen, surrounded by miserable sick animals and being forced to eat things it was never meant to eat (like fish meal - hi! Gross!) and getting so sick from eating so badly that it must be pumped full of antibiotics and hormones and all kinds of other unnatural things and then murdered in such a way that it's muscles are soaked with anxiety and adrenaline. I mean, that can't be good for anyone. It's not just awful and unnatural for the animal, but it's got to be bad for us, too. And I'm not just talking about karma. But there is that. Or so I've always thought.

Anyway, I've always tried to express these thoughts to Poompy, but have been met with much resistance. Because, you know, buying organic locally grown produce is expensive. And going to the trouble to only eat pastured animals is too time consuming and expensive. And bread is healthy! Pasta is a staple!

Remember when I wrote that I was gonna write about this most awesome and fantastic book I'd finished reading by Michael Pollan? Well, today is THE day.

My hour has finally come. Poompy has finally stopped arguing with me about how we eat. Apparently, anything Michael Pollan says carries more weight than anything I say. And as long as I get what I want, I'm totally cool with that.

I don't really know where I'm going with this post, except that I feel really validated by Pollan's newest book. I'm always floored when someone sees me eating an apple and says, "You better be careful. Do you know how much sugar is in that?" I feel like you won't even believe that I've just typed that, because, hello! It's a freaking apple. There is not so much sugar in an apple that it's going to make me fat. That's just ridiculous. But maybe you're one of those people who says, "I don't eat fruit. Too many carbs," though I hope you're not. Because if you are, you're going to have some serious health problems as you get older. And I'd really like you to live a long and healthy life.

Anyway, since I don't know how to force the power of this book onto you, (other than by begging you to pleasegooutandbuythisbooktoday!) I'm just going to quote some Michael Pollan right here. But before I do, I want you to know that he's a really smart guy and he did a lot of research and, unlike me, he doesn't just spout stuff he thinks sounds good. He actually only writes it if he has real scientific evidence to back it up. I mean, the guy's got creds. Yes, he's a writer and not a scientist. But he quotes scientists, so that's gotta count for something, right?

Let us start with this little doozy. In this section, Pollan is arguing against the arguments that we are "adjusting" to the Western Diet (refined white flour, refined sugar, processed foods, the entire "low-fat" culture).

"But our 'adjustment' [to the Western diet] looks much less plausible when
you consider that, as mentioned, fully a quarter of all Americans suffer from
metabolic syndrome, two thirds of us are overweight or obese, and diet-related
diseases are already killing the majority of us."

Do you know how to starve a rich person? Feed 'em. I'm not kidding. Americans are eating more and more empty calories and getting fatter and fatter. We're eating WAY less fat than we were fifty years ago, but because we aren't eating natural fats, we're hungrier all the time and thus, we eat waaaaay more calories and get really fat. If we stuck to fruits and veggies, we'd be more satisfied and all-around-healthier.

"An American born in 2000 has a 1 in 3 chance of developing diabetes in his
lifetime; the risk is even greater for a Hispanic American or African American.
A diagnosis of diabetes subtracts roughly twelve years from one's life ad living
with the condition incurs medical costs of $13,000 a year (compared with $2,500
for someone without diabetes.)"

How messed up is that? Seriously. Thank you, Processed Food. But wait - it gets better.

"Although an estimated 80 percent of type cases of type 2 diabetes could be
prevented by a change of diet and exercise, it looks like the smart money is
instead on the creation of a vast new diabetes industry. The mainstream media is
full of advertisements for new gadgets and drugs for diabetics, and the health
care industry is gearing up to meet the surging demand for heart bypass
operations (80 percent of diabetics will suffer from heart disease), dialysis,
and kidney transplantation. At the supermarket checkout you can thumb copies of
a new lifestyle magazine, Diabetic Living. Diabetes is well on its way
to becoming normalized in the West -- recognized as a whole new demographic and
so a major marketing opportunity. Apparently it is easier, or at least a lot
more profitable, to change a disease of civilization into a lifestyle than it is
to change the way that civilization eats."

And this is one of my favorites. Because I've secretly always loathed "low-fat" crap and "lite" shit and "skim" milk and blah blah blah. I drink half n' half. And I love it. Gimme more fat, please.

"Very often food science's efforts to make traditional foods more nutritious
make them much more complicated, but not necessarily any better for you. To make
dairy products low fat, it's not enough to remove the fat. You then have to go
to great lengths to preserve the body or creamy texture by working in all kinds
of food additives. In the case of low-fat or skim milk, that usually means
adding powdered milk. But powdered milk contains oxidized cholesterol, which
scientists believe is much worse for your arteries than ordinary cholesterol, so
food makers sometimes compensate by adding antioxidants, further complicating
what had been a simple one-ingredient whole food. Also, removing the fat makes
it that much harder for your body to absorb the fat-soluble vitamins that are
one of the reasons to drink milk in the first place."

Pollan also goes on to uncover all these studies that show that taking vitamin and anti-oxidant supplements are more likely to do harm than good. And he talks about how the way we farm our produce and our animals has so depleted the soil of nutrients that our produce is waaaay less nutritious than it was a hundred years ago and because our animals eat such bad food, they are waaaaaay less better than us than they were and on and on and on. It's really incredible. And eye-opening.

And if you think you don't want to read this book because you don't want to know all this bad stuff and you can't do anything about it anyway, GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR YEASTY ASS. Because, YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE EVERYTHING. FOR THE BETTER. For reals. It really actually does not cost that much extra to buy locally grown organic produce. And, FYI, the "locally grown" part is actually incredibly important. It is stupid to buy organic produce if it was grown in China and shipped to the states before it was ripe, which is how a lot of organic produce works. And it doesn't cost that much more to buy pastured organic animal products. It really doesn't. And again, the "pastured" part makes a HUGE difference in the quality of the food you are consuming. And it is much more likely that the animal was a healthy animal if it spent it's life eating grass in a pasture, as it was intended to do. So there. Anyway, buying food like this isn't much more expensive, seriously. I'm shit-ass-broke and I can do it. So you can too. You just have to want a better life for yourself.


Americans are entering into a terrible, terrible state of ... I don't even know what to call it. We're losing our jobs and our homes, most of us are without health care, food and fuel costs are shooting through the roof, we are fat and unhealthy and unhappy. This cannot go on. I don't mean to get all preachy, but I totally do. LISTEN TO ME. We have got to start taking responsibility for ourselves and we have got to start holding ourselves accountable and we have got to make a difference! WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO YOU WANT YOUR CHILDREN TO GROW UP IN? You don't want children, you say? WELL, WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO YOU WANT MY CHILDREN TO GROW UP IN?

So just do me a favor, read this book, follow Pollan's wonderful suggestions for eating in a way that will make you healthier and all-around-happier and that will also be good for our Earth, our country, our children and our animals. Please. I'm begging. I'm actually on my knees begging. You just can't see me. But you have a good imagination, so use it.*

OH! And one last thing. Go here to get tons more info on how you, too, can eat healthier while taking care of Mother Earth. This is also a great website. DO IT NOW! Shazam.

*I just want you to know that I do not work for Michael Pollan, nor am I getting a kick-back on the sale of his book. I just think he's a smart guy with some REALLY important stuff to say. But I should start getting kick-backs. Because that would be cool.

Rocky the Grizzly Bear

Yesterday, 'Rocky' the five-year-old grizzly bear that wrestled with Will Ferrell in 'Semi-Pro' bit his trainer on the neck. His trainer, Stephan Miller, died from the injury. Click here to read a news article about it.

I want to offer my prayers and sympathy to the family and friends of Stephan Miller.

Now I want to say that when a human being makes the decision to "train" a wild animal such as a grizzly bear, they are making the decision to risk their life. The California Department of Fish and Game (DFG) will be conducting an "investigation" to "decide" what should happen to Rocky as a result of his trainer's death. It is very likely that Rocky will be destroyed.

I URGE you to contact the DFG and protest Rocky's euthanization. I am very sorry that Mr. Miller was killed. I think it's terrible. But Rocky is a wild animal and wild animals do what their instincts tell them to do. Rocky is NOT a cruel or calculating killer. He's just a bear. He does not deserve to die. He never asked to be kept in a cage and "trained". Can you imagine how he must have felt as humans were "training" him? He must have felt as if he was being teased and taunted almost constantly. HE DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE DESTROYED.

If you agree with me, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE write a letter and/or send an email to the DFG. I did both. The mailing address for the DFG is:

DFG Headquarters
1416 9th Street
Sacramento, CA 95814

Click here to send an email.

Below is a copy of what I both emailed and hand-wrote to the DFG. Feel free to copy it, or of course, write your own.

My heart breaks for this bear. I pray that his life is spared.

To whom it may concern:

Regarding 'Rocky' the five-year-old Grizzly that killed his trainer Stephan Miller at the Predators in Action facility on Tuesday, April 22, 2008.

I understand that you are conducting an investigation to decide how Rocky should be 'dealt with' since he killed his trainer this week. Please, please, please take into consideration the fact that human beings who choose to "train" these wild animals are also choosing to risk their lives. Grizzly bears are wild animals. They are not cruel, calculating killers. Whatever reason Rocky had for biting his trainer, he had his wild grizzly bear reason. I feel terrible for Mr. Miller and his family. However, I am certain that Mr. Miller would have admitted that when he decided to work with a grizzly bear, he knew he was risking his life.

As you well know, grizzlies are a rare breed that must be preserved. To euthanize this bear because he followed his instincts would be cruel and terrible. He never asked to be kept in a cage and made to do tricks. He does NOT deserve to be punished because he behaved as what he is - a wild animal.

Please be thoughtful and wise in making your decision regarding what will happen to him now. It would be a travesty if he were to be destroyed as a result of human choices.

Thank you.