Broken Lion Heart

Well, I was in the middle of a blog draft about the rise of the troll in the cyber world that is spilling over into the real world, when out of nowhere I was thrown a delayed #2 punch while still reeling from the major #1 that knocked me down not even a month ago. (I'm just throwing this post together so I can take a break and process things.) In a day under three weeks I lost a second kitty to a mysterious, sudden-onset fatal illness. Needless to say I am numb. I don't deal with grief and intense emotion real well so I'm in a sort of altered state, like my limbic system kicked in while I go about my day-to-day in auto pilot. I feel quivery inside and unable to focus. So I try to keep moving to get through it. Releasing some anger through writing this might help. ...

Blazer reminded me of the BKliban tabby.

Blazer was one of two kitties I took in after my elderly neighbor fell and broke his hip early one morning. He was an ornery old man who didn't allow help or intrusion, but we both shared a love of kitties. I took care of his kitties in his house for two months while he was moved from ICU to assisted living and back to ICU for dialysis due to kidney failure due to untreated diabetes. I thought he would eventually come home but his health took a nosedive. The man was so stubborn he suffered silently with his diabetes because he hated going to the doctors. No one could force him to do anything he didn't want to do. Period. I always listened for signs of life from his house because I knew he'd be the type who could otherwise die and go unnoticed for weeks until the smell of rotting flesh finally brought attention to his predicament. Without me there, that could have very well been the scenario. I'm up early so I did hear his cries for help.

Blazer couldn't wait to try out the new catio entry way even though it wasn't finished.

Blazer was a 17-lbs. lover boy with perfect tabby markings.

When it was apparent my neighbor was not coming home, his out-of-town estranged son, family and a few church mates drove up with a big dumpster to dispose of everything in the man's house ... except for the refrigerator, of course. The good pastor wanted that freebie. Another churchie took the free old Chevy Blazer in the garage that the owner didn't have the means to fix. The rest went into the trash – personal papers, pictures, his old Marine uniform. They wanted to do the same to the cats – toss them out! I didn't take care of them for two months just to have them killed! I desperately networked, trying to find Blazer and his old woman kitty partner, Hoodlum, a home, but to no avail. I took them in and continued to foster them, hoping to find them good homes when I moved to where I currently reside. I did what I thought was the right thing in my heart. I did the best I could with what I had. RIP my big Blazer boy. :(

 To throw salt on my unhealed wounds, the news of Minnesota dentist Walter J. Palmer and his cruel, profligate killing of Zimbabwe's Cecil the Lion spun me way off orbit. The fallout of this atrocious act echoes the sentiment of my last blog post about sentient beings, dominion and entitlement. (Synchronicity strikes again!) Palmer, like every trophy collector, was apparently not going to be happy until he had an entire representation of African wildlife in his … living room?! … garage?! … *gulp* … bedroom?!

Calvin & Hobbes fan forever!

I kid you not, Palmer wanted more, asking his guide about his next fix – hunting the biggest elephant on the planet – while still brutally finishing off Cecil the Lion.  He needed yet another wastefully ostentatious "prize" to add to his collection of ill-conceived and ill-gotten "trophies", which Jimmy Kimmel so aptly noted, "…he killed like half of Noah's Ark! …" I'm with Kimmel on the emotion and the loss of words for why people indulge in trophy hunting – and especially canned hunts. What is so manly about shooting fish in a barrel. It's just nasty and inconceivable to me. I'm a vegetarian so I don't need meat for my sustenance and I feel for the factory farm animals that are hyper-bred to keep up with the over-indulgent humans' insatiable appetites.

The majestic Cecil had a unique black mane. Source BBC.

A few of my favorite consistent rights activist celebrities have chimed in with their outrage against Cecil's senseless killing.  Mia Farrow came under fire for tweeting Palmer's work address, which was easily googled anyway. The always lovable animal champion, Betty White, is stunned and at a loss of words about Cecil's killing. Then there's Ricky Gervais, who's loudly and publicly been outing trophy hunters, posting their ridiculous selfies with their kills and shaming them. (Just scroll down Gervais' Twitter® timeline for some lulz.) Countless other celebrities have had their say. Surprisingly, among them was conservationist Jane Goodall, who said that she also had "no words to express" her "repugnance" about the heartbreaking incident.

Sweet Cecil head-bonks the mother of his cubs.

But, oh that equal opportunity Law of Karma. It's like the Law of Gravity: "It's not only a good idea! It's the law!" It's echoes Newton's Third Law Of Motion: "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." It doesn't discriminate and no one is above it, not even the rich. It's an unavoidable but necessary part of life. And now Palmer is getting much deserved fall-out for his apathy and depravity.  How does the hunter now feel as the hunted? This coward is now in hiding and has the chance to escape to a country that won't extradite him for his cowardice act – a chance not given to Cecil. Is there not a tinge of justice here? Is it not odd how the tables have turned? That man's killing of Cecil is the most expensive lesson he will ever learn in his life, whatever is left of it. Unfortunately, he took an innocent and majestic creature down in the process. Was it worth it, Mr. Palmer? What becomes of the beloved Cecil's head and remains? Just pondering these questions reveals the pointlessness of killing for a trophy head.

Whew! I've got to lick some wounds and eventually finish the blog post I began, which, in a bigger-picture sort of way, ties in with all of this human apathy. Be kind to all living things.

Demand Justice For Cecil The Lion In Zimbabwe. They are very close to reaching their million mark and will probably have surpassed it by the time some of you read this.

Also, please sign the White House petition to  Stop Exotic Animal Trophies From Entering The Unite States.