269 Deaths per Second

At lunch one day last week I was reading a blog by Jasmin Singer, the National Advocacy Organizer for Farm Sanctuary. She has the number 286 tattooed on her left wrist. Purpose? According to Singer "it helps me put things in perspective and stay focused." The meaning of the number? It's the number of chickens killed for food in the US every second. That's 23 million chickens per day, just in the US alone. I Googled this to verify it and the web site for the organization Viva! gave the figure 269 deaths per second. So yes, it's accurate, not some shock value sound bite invented to deceive.

I found this a rather difficult statistic to wrap my brain around: 269 deaths every second. And all for the progress and greater glory of . . . . well, nothing really, just our insatiable gluttony for chicken meat. Maybe you're shrugging your shoulders and asking "so what, it's just chickens, what's the big deal?" Well, ask yourself this: for what am I willing to kill 269 lives per second? World peace? My family's safety? Ending world hunger? No, merely for the convenience of having a chicken sandwich any time you want one.

Killing for convenience. 269 times a second, 23 million times per day, non-stop. Does this not seem excessive? Better yet, ask yourself: when will it be excessive? How many chickens killed per second--all so you can have a chicken sandwich whenever the mood hits you--is too many? Where would you draw the line between your convenience and "this is getting out of hand"?

And the killing is just the final indignity to a life spent in misery for these factory farmed chickens. You do know that probably most, if not all, the chicken you eat comes from factory farms, right? Where chickens spend their entire lives in overcrowded, filthy, inhumane conditions, all so the owner can turn a profit and you can have a chicken sandwich whenever you want. Here's a link to Viva!'s web site where you can read about what they saw inside chicken factory farms: http://www.vivausa.org/campaigns/chickens/index.html

In addition to the killing and life spent in misery there is the simple issue of creating life simply to exploit it. There is no benefit to the chickens in their "relationship" with humans: we use them for our own purposes with no consideration for their well being or their right to live the lives that God has given them. Our ends--a full wallet for the factory farmer and a full belly for us--justify the means, so far as we're concerned. Have we not already passed the point at which we should be asking ourselves "who died and left us to play God with the lives of others?" If you won't answer that question because you don't subscribe to a religious paradigm for your world view, then simply ask yourself this: is "might makes right" the way I want the world to run? Do I believe that the best way to live my life is to be a part of the powerful exploiting the weak? When I die, I sure hope my headstone says "he ate well and always put himself first" and not "he sacrificed and showed mercy and compassion to the weak."

Luke 6:38 tells us that we will receive the measure which we have given. Even popular wisdom advises "you get what you give" and "what comes around, goes around"; something to keep in mind when you eat that next chicken sandwich.

Some Thoughts about Sosha's Last Day

Today my friend Michelle posted on Facebook that she was having to put her 12 year old cat Sosha to sleep. I posted some encouraging thoughts as a reply. She responded that she was having to wait till 4pm to take Sosha in for her final vet visit and it was hard because Sosha was getting worse by the hour. She went on to post "I wish pets could live longer than they do. I always say, NO MORE, then a stray comes along, or an abused pet, and I take them home. I wish I could own a humane society of my own."

For me, these thoughts of Michelle's illustrate how God's gift of compassion works. Michelle could have put her own emotional needs first by making herself absent from Sosha's last day. Michelle could have taken Sosha to animal control or some vet's office and left her there to be euthanized, thus protecting herself from the pain of that final good-bye. Many people go this route because they simply don't have the emotional fortitude to witness the death of their pet. While this saddens me, I understand that not everyone has the gift of compassion that compels them to be nowhere else but with their pet during those final moments.

Obviously I am of this latter sort. I have been with all my little ones when it came time to send them back home to the loving Father who made them; I would have it no other way. The Lord has charged us with taking care of our fellow creatures with whom we share Creation. I feel that we would be remiss to do so for all but their final day. Most people hope to die peacefully in bed, surrounded by their loved ones. Our pets can't express their wishes to us, but I doubt that their wish is to die abandoned and alone in a strange place rather than with those who have loved and cared for them their whole lives.

In once sense Michelle expressed this desire to be emotionally shielded when she talked about bringing home NO MORE pets. But, like me, she will answer compassion's call when that next stray or abused animal comes along looking for a home. And where do these stray and abused animals come from? From someone who declared "no more!" and abused, abandoned or neglected that pet in the first place. For my part, I declare back "no more!" to abandoning pets for our own convenience, to abusing the innocent, to behaving as if the world revolves around us and there are no consequences for our actions. Finally, I declare "no more!" to justifying it all by saying "it's just a cat, who cares?"

Michelle cares, she's at the vet with Sosha as I write this. I care, that's why I'm writing this in the first place. God cares most of all: He's the one who has to watch those He made in His own image treating the rest of His creation like it's disposable: use as needed then throw away when convenient.

Most people probably won't see this story of a friend putting her cat to sleep as I have seen it. But maybe by reading this it's given you pause to think about our culture's--and your own--attitude toward animals. I hope it does; that's what makes me the Christian Cat Guy.

Empathizing with a blind cat

Those who know me would most likely not be surprised with me empathizing with a blind cat.  But I'm learning that the actual mechanics of that maybe aren't as simple as one might think.

Greta is a foster cat.  She is completely blind.  She is a victim of animal hoarding.  The brownish-yellow stains you see on her front legs are from years and years of living with urine soil on her coat.  Her right eye is basically a shriveled raisin; her left eye is damaged and sightless so far as we can tell.  These injuries are the result untreated viral infections, ulcerations or who knows what.  Since she came to foster with us she has gained weight and cleaned up; her coat is soft and her eyes are no longer crusty (though there is always some discharge from them). 

So what do you do with a blind foster cat?  Well, I've been keeping her in her own kennel in the garage as I do initially with all fosters while their parasites die and their digestive systems adjust to the offered fare of the Ottocat household.  So after all that necessary stuff happened there she'd sit, blind, in her quiet kennel, sitting, all blind and sitting there . . . .

So yeah, what do you do with a blind foster cat?  I mean, she can't observe her environment while she sits there all day.  I'm sure her hearing is fairly acute to make up for her loss of sight, but I don't know that the sounds audible from my garage provide a day's worth of entertainment for a blind cat.  So I began bringing her inside in the evenings to sit on my lap while I sat at the computer.  She is very loving and affectionate and enjoys our evening time together.  This past weekend I decided it was time for her to explore on her own, with my supervision of course; the Ottocats, I knew, would not be beside themselves with joy to find some strange cat--which so far as they knew had just dropped out of the sky--walking around in their house.  Greta, surprisingly, was likewise not fond of contact with them.  Given the hoarding situation she'd lived in for who knows how many years one would assume that she'd be used to other cats.  And that she may be, but the Ottocats aren't the cats that she's been used to I suppose, so she would hiss and swat at anyone that made contact with her.  I'm sure that part of this behavior is stress-related--it can't be all fun and laughter learning to navigate a new house as the (sighted) resident cats run to or from you, depending on their level of fear or curiosity.

Greta spent most of the day Saturday in the house.  In the mid afternoon I began to worry that perhaps she needed to potty and didn't know where the litter boxes are.  Eventually she meandered over that way, so I lifted her front paws up and placed them on the lip of the box (which is actually one of those 18 gallon Rubbermaid totes you store your holiday decorations in during the off season).  After touching her paws to the lip of the tote so she would know how tall it is, I lifted her into it and set her on the litter.  She immediately did her business and then carefully if not skillfully jumped up to the lip of the tote and carefully eased herself back onto the floor. 

I was thrilled with her success and expressed as much.  My wife pointed out that I seemed "quite delighted" with our little, blind charge.  "Well," I confessed, "I'm trying to make things easy for her while still letting her learn for herself.  I've never been a cat and I've never been blind, so I'm kinda making this up as I go and hoping it works!"

Indeed:  never been a cat, never been blind but nevertheless empathizing with this little, blind girl who is exploring her new lease on life which includes a clean home, a loving foster family, enough to eat and medical care.  Most people wouldn't give a urine stained, blind cat a second thought.  But, I'm not most people:  I'm the Christian Cat Guy.

A New Perspective on the Sky Angel Cowboy Story

It might come as little surprise that I, the Christian Cat Guy, got a somewhat different message from this story than most people do. I certainly don’t dispute the message that God is using little Logan to send: that His Son was special and died for a purpose. However, this seems to be the ONLY message people are getting out of this story and I see several more messages the Lord is sending.

Toward the end of the video Pat Robertson says “. . . a cow has a broken back and they have to put it down. And I mean, that was, you know, he lives on a farm and that’s the way it is.” Is it? We are being invited to accept that “that’s the way it is” but I ask you: “whose way is this?” First off, this is a cattle ranch, so I’m going to assume (and admit it) that the cattle are raised to be sold as beef. We Americans love our hamburgers and steaks, so of course the whole rancher thing goes by us without so much as a blink of the eye on our part. We don’t consider that the only reason this calf is alive is because Logan’s father breeds them so they can be killed and eaten. Let’s face it: this calf wasn’t going to be a pet, it was going to be raised to a certain age then killed so we could eat those hamburgers and steaks we love so much. I also questions why an “old cow” is being bread in the first place. We might be gracious and assume that it was an accidental breeding because cows that old aren’t bred intentionally for the very reason played out in this story. I honestly wonder why, if the cow was that old, she hadn’t already been slaughtered if she was no longer good for breeding? The calf was roped and broke its back last night, but it wasn’t put down until this morning. So in the meantime the calf . . . just laid there and suffered? The people in the video (and most viewers I imagine) are touched by the little boy’s tears but most, I would offer, have lost sight of why he’s crying in the first place: because one of God’s innocents has suffered and died. Everyone in the video marvels at how God uses Logan, yet I’m willing to bet they’ve all missed the fact that it started with God using that little calf in the first place: if it hadn’t died, Logan would have no story to tell.

I see a parallel here between the calf and Christ: both are special (as presented in the story), both have suffered and died at human hands, both have died “for a purpose”: their deaths are used by God to spread His message of love and compassion. Even more important, when Logan tells God “she was special,” God answers “My Son was special too.” God doesn’t say “she was just a calf.” Yet, without God’s presence in Logan’s story, how many of us would expect Logan’s dad, upon seeing his son’s tears over the death of the calf, to say “buck up son, it’s only a calf, that’s just the way it is.” How many of us tell this to our children when they get upset over the death of a pet? It’s just a dog, it’s just a cat. Take very careful note: it isn’t “JUST SOMETHING” to God.

Let’s make one small change to the story, for the sake of argument here, and hypothesize about its impact. Let’s say that it’s not a calf, but a child in Africa who has died of starvation, that Logan is upset about. Would we hear the minister at the end of the video inviting us to accept “well, that child lived in Africa you know, and, well, children die all the time over there from starvation, it’s just the way it is.” (Sad to say, but lots of Americans would accept this without giving it much thought). I’m willing to bet that somewhere along the way some fund would be set up to collect donations for the deceased child’s village, perhaps even by one of the agencies (Sky Angel, CBN) in the story. The focus of the story would then not only be God’s message to Logan, but how we can do our part to help prevent such tragedy in the future.

So in the end, this is a tough one for me. I certainly don’t question God’s message to Logan and I don’t argue that this message needs to be shared. Like others who view this video, I am awed by God’s ability to use anyone He chooses for His divine purposes. I know that, given the emotional impact of the nature of this message, ANY criticism directed at this story will most likely be received negatively. However, I also believe that God has gifted me with this compassion for His animals for a purpose. It is this compassion that allows me to see in this story what most others don’t, and it is God’s purpose for me to share what I see. It’s what makes me the Christian Cat Guy.

Every life has value

We lost one of our foster kittens today. She'd only been with us 9 days and we didn't even have a name for her yet. She and her littermates came to us with URIs and runny eyes; the other three responded well to antibiotics, she did not. She died at the vet's office this afternoon while coming out of anesthesia following a minor procedure. I am heartsick that her little life was so short and so full of struggle & discomfort.

When my six year old daughter asked me through her tears why our kitten had to die, I told her I didn't know. I said that we trust God at times like this, because only He knows the "why" that we cannot understand. Why would an innocent little kitten spend most of her life sick and then die for no real reason? Because we live in a broken, fallen world, full of sin and death brought about by our own human arrogance and selfishness. That thought isn't much of a comfort really, but it reminds us that we must look to God for our comfort, not to explanations for why our world isn't perfect.

I am also reminded that each and every life in this creation has value because that life was created by God. We lose sight of this fact for a myriad of reasons. Our selfish, sinful nature drives us to focus on "ours" and "our own kind" at the expense of "others." These "others" might be humans of a different gender, skin color, sexual orientation, culture, religion, etc. than our own. In many (most?) cases, these others are the animals with whom we share our planet. We have become mostly immune to their deaths because so often it is we who bring about that very death. Whether it is death to provide food, sport, fur, sacrifice or what have you, we focus only on our gain and rarely--if ever--on the moral implications of our actions. Highways are littered with the carcasses of wildlife and domestic animals killed by motor vehicles and we don't so much as bat an eye when we drive past. Killing for convenience is labeled as "pest and rodent control." Production animals on factory farms exist for one purpose--for us to kill and eat them. We create life so that we can use it for our own purposes. When our purposes are fulfilled, we think nothing of killing, abandoning or neglecting those lives as best suits our convenience.

The death of our foster kitten matters because it matters to God. The earth may not tremble, the oceans may not roar and the sky may not fall down upon us, but God knows all the same. And for that, I am grateful.

"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God." Luke 12:6.

HSUS Year End Video 2008

This video recounts the achievements of the Humane Society of the United States in 2008. I lost a lot of faith in HSUS this year and stopped my $5 montly donation (yeah, I know, I'm sure that didn't shut them down) after one of their regional coordinators was quoted as saying that he didn't have a problem with the euthanasia of stray and feral cats. This was in response to a small Iowa town that was considering putting a bounty on feral cats in order to bring down their numbers. I'll admit, the HSUS does a lot of good stuff, like their undercover video that exposed the American public to the abuse of "downer cattle" at a slaughterhouse.



As with most things in life, one has to take the good with the bad. HSUS' support of killing feral cats has cost them my paultry montly donation, yet I applaud their efforts on other fronts.