Animal Abuse: Animals Are Not Targets

Growing up on a farm, I witnessed a lot of animal abuse. Not from my family, of course, but passers-by. pens of animals nestled up against the canal bank that Salt Lake had a small dirt road that ran the entire length of the channel. You could look down our pens of cattle, horses, sheep and pigs, taking the normal smells of the farm - alfalfa, straw, and of course manure. Here are some of the things that have happened over the years:

* throwing rocks is a great sport. Rock throwing is a popular sport among the youngest vsitors. point of the game to see who could hit one of the animals in the first place. Cow is the best target because of its bulky size and movement.

* animals are great goals. Christmas was another joyous when teens get first BB gun. The aim and goal was the same as the paper aims to capture most of the boys. Their squeals of joy were heard over the farm. My dad spent many hours trying to heal the bleeding holes in the animals - many BBS never recovered, followed by infections. How I wish they could watch pointless pain caused by the animals and my family.

* bin tasty snack. Children are not the only one that wreaked havoc on the farm. Even the simplest, careless act will lead to harming the animal. In later years, our farm was surrounded on three sides by subdivisions. Although it is garbage pick-up is available, we saw the neighbors bordering our farm as a dumping ground and a place for Tromp our hay down for a baseball game. I never understood what our family was driving along the fence line neighbor throws garbage in the back of our pickup truck to why they were not humiliated by his actions. It never ceased to amaze me looking back at this point, they thought it helped their work. They can still see them in the garage across the chain-link fence. Why not look at the beauty of green fields instead?

as cows and horses graze pastures during the different seasons of the year, an interesting bit of nails, plastic bottle caps, or the remains of a ham sandwich in a plastic baggie to catch the eye or animals to eat delicious szalogaj alfalfa. I remember helping my father injected cow magnets down the throat with a bolus to raise as much iron and steel, as much as possible. This is to prevent the closure of holes in their stomachs. iron and steel caused by hardware or illness of peritonitis. magnets to hold the metal in place and cellulous would wrap around it like a pearl in an oyster.

* indirect means of abuse. This practice of garbage over the fence did nothing to help the flow of Agriculture. Despite the regular collection of my family, garbage magically appeared without interruption, including rocks that have not always seen in a stand of alfalfa. These "gifts" from our neighbors damaged and broke our farming equipment, bailers, rakes and plows - costing valuable time and loss of crops for the animals

* Pets are like family. Being dog lovers, we have suffered episodes with dogs because my heart hurt the most. One of my favorite dogs in his youth was the Duke, the blue heeler. Despite the name, Duke was a female. She was a protective dog, even to us kids and worked sheep and cattle as a pro.

One summer day, Duke crawled on the back porch door, whimpering. We found her on the stairs, shot in thethe top of head . My father was an excellent veterinarian, without ever having had any formal training. Somehow, he miraculously managed to save the life of Duke. It was never the same after that. We soon realized there was some damage to her brain.

One day, my dad and I, along with Duke, burden our neighbors haul garbage to the dump. Duke rode in the truck of my feet. When my dad left rake back of the truck, I reached to pet his head. She lunged at me, knocked the glasses from my face, and bit my cheek and eyelid. blood poured profusely from the bites. I was shocked by my act of a protective, loyal friend. However, as young as I was, I still understood. love for this dog is strong in me, and I do not want her to get into trouble with my dad. I searched the glove compartment for tissues or towels to cover my face hurt, but without success. I wiped the blood on my jeans and the Naugahyde roof of our old 1964 Ford pick-up truck.

I quickly turned my head so my father would not see me as he stepped into the truck. He noticed blood on my jeans and the roof of the truck immediately. He turned his face towards him and stared at me in disbelief. My words were soft, "Please, do not be mad at Duke." We returned home and I never see Duke again. I asked my dad where he went, and he told me she wandered off. In my heart, and pain in his eyes, I knew what really happened.

* PSI and cars. Over the years we have had many dogs on the farm. While many of our animals are damaged careless acts, some people intentionally run over by speeding on the road.

All these actions proved meaningless and painful over the years. It was good to see that some of our staes passed a law that makes animal abuse federal crime. Alaska, Idaho, Mississippi, North Dakota and South Dakota have not yet passed this law. If you live in these states, please contact your senators and representatives today.

So far in my books, I have included dogs and dealing with the subject of animal abuse. This is a problem close to my heart. I hope through this article and my book, people will realize that animals are not the target.