Five things to be grateful for today:
1) My new house!
2) A new showerhead creating a great shower
3) Electricity
4) My mom's home cooking
5) A job
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Gratitude
Five things to be grateful for today:
1) Nora is healthy
2) A new home that I love
3) A heater
4) A dishwasher
5) My family coming into town tomorrow :)
1) Nora is healthy
2) A new home that I love
3) A heater
4) A dishwasher
5) My family coming into town tomorrow :)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Dogs in the rain
The house next door is in foreclosure and has been mostly empty for about two years. Lately though a group of people have been squatting there. It seems like the people aren't always the same but we can't quite tell the rhyme or reason of their exits and entrances. The current squatters have a junky camper van in the driveway with boards on all the windows and are very awake between 10pm and 2am. I ponder who pays the electricity bill as I hear power tools and the dryer running at midnight.
They also have new additions of a presumably momma dog and three puppies. The dogs' barking is not unreasonably loud. They are usually locked in the backyard with dry food in a plastic lid and a cardboard box and a few blankets for warmth. Mitch and Nora like watching the puppies dig into the dirt yard and yip at each other. Sometimes the puppies disappear and I imagine they're safe inside the house. I'm not usually worried about their well-being.
But then rain came. I woke up Sunday morning around 7:30am to the sound of falling rain from the slightly open window behind my head. Peaceful. Wait. I suddenly sat up and twisted around to open the window more and peer as best I could at the neighbor's backyard. I searched for yellow fur and saw curled-up small creatures below the back stairs. Scanning the yard, I saw the cardboard box had melted into a flattened mess, the blankets were soggy, and the food had turned into brown mush. Where were the squatters? I didn't think they would be as mean as to force puppies to stay outside in the rain with no protection and so I assumed they were out of town.
I kept watching the puppies, feeling helpless. The momma began to walk around in the rain, trailing her leash, while the puppies quietly followed her. Their fur was dirty with blotches of wet brown filth. One puppy attempted to eat the now soupy food. They had no protection from the rain except a small amount of space under the stairs. The rain wouldn't stop and I worried they would get sick from the cold. Where were their owners?
I began to feel desperate. I decided to gather supplies and sneak into their backyard to make a warm, safe temporary home for them. I dug through my earthquake kit for a plastic tarp and thick gloves, collected cat food and bowls, and shoved in a few towels all into a garbage bag. I slipped into jeans and shoes and headed over like a reverse dog burglar. My plan was to trespass but with benefactor intentions.
The puppies didn't see it that way. In the back of my mind, I had wondered if they would attack me when I entered but waved that little concern away. Surely they would see my generous heart and willingness to set up a plastic tent for animals that weren't even my own in pouring rain. Yeah, that side of things didn't occur to them.
As I neared the back gate and tried to figure out how to open it, the dogs noticed me and began to bark. Loudly. One or two began to jump on the fence and their tiny claws screeched on the wood. The mommma probably thought I was coming to steal her babies and she was ready to fight for them. Hmmm, time to abandon plan. Perhaps I'm around cats too often (who will usually hide when scared) to think through dogs' tendency to favor attacking with barks, jumping, and teeth.
I walked back to my own backyard, stood on a concrete block and looked over the fence. The dogs were still hovering at the first gate but when the momma saw the dangerous threat of me had moved, she sprinted to my new spot and picked up the barking again. The puppies were slow to realize the new location of danger but when they did, they scampered over to join in the yelping. Leaning over the fence with rain falling on us all, I realized there was nothing I could do to help. The puppies would remain cold and wet. I couldn't control how long they were out there or if they survived. I went back upstairs and held my dry, warm cats. Mitch purred up at me and didn't know how lucky he was.
Later in the day, the puppies were not to be found and I was grateful they were inside. But why did it take the squatters so long to bring them inside?
I tried to save another dog lost in the rain later that day. A mixed pit bull had been wandering our street for a few days and was now shivering with his tail between his legs on the curb next door. Someone had tied a rope around his collar and then to the neighbor's fence. A friend and I gave him blankets and bowls of cat food which he scarfed down. He was cold and very hungry. I called Animal Control (not available) and then the non-urgent police line. They said they would come as soon as possible. Six hours later, I went outside to see the dog still shaking in the rain. I stood in my pajamas and poured more cat food. He breathed in the food. I wanted to put a coat on him but knew that wouldn't work. He didn't bark or seem aggressive and his only reaction to me was when I tried to move the gate so he could lie under the junky camper van in protection from the rain. He became skittish and pulled away as far as he could from the gate but when I stopped, he became calm again. As calm as could be with wet fur and scars on his lower back. I wondered if he was a fighting dog that had been abandoned or just a pet that was let go. His decent collar revealed past ownership.
It was painful to go back inside to my warm house. I hated leaving this animal outside unprotected but there's nothing more I could do. It feels like that too often - that there's only so much we can do and often depending on whether people (or dogs) will let us help.
In the morning, I was ready to call Animal Control if the pit was still tied to the fence but he was gone. I want to believe that he was taken to the animal shelter and cleaned and fed, and not that someone stole him or untied him in cruelty to let him continue to wander. I want to believe that.
They also have new additions of a presumably momma dog and three puppies. The dogs' barking is not unreasonably loud. They are usually locked in the backyard with dry food in a plastic lid and a cardboard box and a few blankets for warmth. Mitch and Nora like watching the puppies dig into the dirt yard and yip at each other. Sometimes the puppies disappear and I imagine they're safe inside the house. I'm not usually worried about their well-being.
But then rain came. I woke up Sunday morning around 7:30am to the sound of falling rain from the slightly open window behind my head. Peaceful. Wait. I suddenly sat up and twisted around to open the window more and peer as best I could at the neighbor's backyard. I searched for yellow fur and saw curled-up small creatures below the back stairs. Scanning the yard, I saw the cardboard box had melted into a flattened mess, the blankets were soggy, and the food had turned into brown mush. Where were the squatters? I didn't think they would be as mean as to force puppies to stay outside in the rain with no protection and so I assumed they were out of town.
I kept watching the puppies, feeling helpless. The momma began to walk around in the rain, trailing her leash, while the puppies quietly followed her. Their fur was dirty with blotches of wet brown filth. One puppy attempted to eat the now soupy food. They had no protection from the rain except a small amount of space under the stairs. The rain wouldn't stop and I worried they would get sick from the cold. Where were their owners?
I began to feel desperate. I decided to gather supplies and sneak into their backyard to make a warm, safe temporary home for them. I dug through my earthquake kit for a plastic tarp and thick gloves, collected cat food and bowls, and shoved in a few towels all into a garbage bag. I slipped into jeans and shoes and headed over like a reverse dog burglar. My plan was to trespass but with benefactor intentions.
The puppies didn't see it that way. In the back of my mind, I had wondered if they would attack me when I entered but waved that little concern away. Surely they would see my generous heart and willingness to set up a plastic tent for animals that weren't even my own in pouring rain. Yeah, that side of things didn't occur to them.
As I neared the back gate and tried to figure out how to open it, the dogs noticed me and began to bark. Loudly. One or two began to jump on the fence and their tiny claws screeched on the wood. The mommma probably thought I was coming to steal her babies and she was ready to fight for them. Hmmm, time to abandon plan. Perhaps I'm around cats too often (who will usually hide when scared) to think through dogs' tendency to favor attacking with barks, jumping, and teeth.
I walked back to my own backyard, stood on a concrete block and looked over the fence. The dogs were still hovering at the first gate but when the momma saw the dangerous threat of me had moved, she sprinted to my new spot and picked up the barking again. The puppies were slow to realize the new location of danger but when they did, they scampered over to join in the yelping. Leaning over the fence with rain falling on us all, I realized there was nothing I could do to help. The puppies would remain cold and wet. I couldn't control how long they were out there or if they survived. I went back upstairs and held my dry, warm cats. Mitch purred up at me and didn't know how lucky he was.
Later in the day, the puppies were not to be found and I was grateful they were inside. But why did it take the squatters so long to bring them inside?
I tried to save another dog lost in the rain later that day. A mixed pit bull had been wandering our street for a few days and was now shivering with his tail between his legs on the curb next door. Someone had tied a rope around his collar and then to the neighbor's fence. A friend and I gave him blankets and bowls of cat food which he scarfed down. He was cold and very hungry. I called Animal Control (not available) and then the non-urgent police line. They said they would come as soon as possible. Six hours later, I went outside to see the dog still shaking in the rain. I stood in my pajamas and poured more cat food. He breathed in the food. I wanted to put a coat on him but knew that wouldn't work. He didn't bark or seem aggressive and his only reaction to me was when I tried to move the gate so he could lie under the junky camper van in protection from the rain. He became skittish and pulled away as far as he could from the gate but when I stopped, he became calm again. As calm as could be with wet fur and scars on his lower back. I wondered if he was a fighting dog that had been abandoned or just a pet that was let go. His decent collar revealed past ownership.
It was painful to go back inside to my warm house. I hated leaving this animal outside unprotected but there's nothing more I could do. It feels like that too often - that there's only so much we can do and often depending on whether people (or dogs) will let us help.
In the morning, I was ready to call Animal Control if the pit was still tied to the fence but he was gone. I want to believe that he was taken to the animal shelter and cleaned and fed, and not that someone stole him or untied him in cruelty to let him continue to wander. I want to believe that.
Waking up in Oakland part 2
I meant to write more later the next day about my weaving drive through downtown Oakland on my way to work. I usually take a blink-and-you'll-miss-it tour of 880N but that day was different.
My car led me past City Hall and through the Oakland Chinatown I know well with Chinese characters on street signs, perched below their English counterparts. I stopped at a red light and glanced at my right to watch middle school kids finish recess on a concrete patch of playground squeezed between buildings and busy streets. Their teacher looked so young himself as he gathered the last basketball and walked the kids out. How far was their main school? The playground wasn't connected and they had to walk on city streets just to get from one class to another?
I drove by Lake Merritt with its famous globe lights dimmed for daylight and moms with strollers leisurely following the lake's gentle curves.
I saw the Fox Theater, the Paramount Theater, Frank Ogawa Plaza, and all the parts that make up my Oakland. Oakland is more than riots or violence or guns or endless parking tickets. Oakland is diversity and a 3.5 mile lake in freakin' downtown and farmer's markets and teachers making a difference every day and social workers healing families and refugees & immigrants & Californians making their home here and churches praising God while serving food to the hungry. Oakland is Joaquin Miller Park and bike coalitions and Children's Hospital and pho & burritos on International Blvd and Bakesale Betty's in Temescal and Arizmendi on Lakeshore.
Oakland is beauty and peace. It is, and we are making it so.
My car led me past City Hall and through the Oakland Chinatown I know well with Chinese characters on street signs, perched below their English counterparts. I stopped at a red light and glanced at my right to watch middle school kids finish recess on a concrete patch of playground squeezed between buildings and busy streets. Their teacher looked so young himself as he gathered the last basketball and walked the kids out. How far was their main school? The playground wasn't connected and they had to walk on city streets just to get from one class to another?
I drove by Lake Merritt with its famous globe lights dimmed for daylight and moms with strollers leisurely following the lake's gentle curves.
I saw the Fox Theater, the Paramount Theater, Frank Ogawa Plaza, and all the parts that make up my Oakland. Oakland is more than riots or violence or guns or endless parking tickets. Oakland is diversity and a 3.5 mile lake in freakin' downtown and farmer's markets and teachers making a difference every day and social workers healing families and refugees & immigrants & Californians making their home here and churches praising God while serving food to the hungry. Oakland is Joaquin Miller Park and bike coalitions and Children's Hospital and pho & burritos on International Blvd and Bakesale Betty's in Temescal and Arizmendi on Lakeshore.
Oakland is beauty and peace. It is, and we are making it so.
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