Nothing Else Really to Say...

Seeing boy

overcoming stammer

will leave you

speechless

There isn't much irony in Musharaf Asghar's nickname being "Mushy." The 16-year-old student at Thornhill Community Academy has battled a difficult stammer "since I can remember," and was the target of some bullying until school officials put a stop to it. But teacher Matthew Burton took inspiration from the film "The King's Speech," and, employing the same music-through-headphones approach to allay the boy's angst, helped Musharaf conquer his fears as he prepared for some critical oral exams. His triumphant moment was captured for the British TV series "Educating Yorkshire," and there wasn't a dry eye among any of Mushy's schoolmates. "I still won't be applying for any call-center jobs yet though," he cracked. [Source] 

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Freedom and Jeff

Freedom and I have been together 11 years this summer.  She came in as a baby in 1998 with two broken wings. Her left wing doesn't open all the way even after surgery, it was broken in 4 places.  She's my baby.  When Freedom came in she could not stand and both wings were broken. She was emaciated and covered in lice. We made the decision to give her a chance at life, so I took her to the vet's office.

From then on, I was always around her. We had her in a huge dog carrier with the top off, and it was loaded up with shredded newspaper for her to lay in. I used to sit and talk to her, urging her to live, to fight; and she would lay there looking at me with those big brown eyes. We also had to tube feed her for weeks. This went on for 4-6 weeks, and by then she still couldn't stand. It got to the point where the decision was made to euthanize her if she couldn't stand in a week.

You know you don't want to cross that line between torture and rehab, and it looked like death was winning. She was going to be put down that Friday, and I was supposed to come in on that Thursday afternoon. I didn't want to go to the center that Thursday, because I couldn't bear the thought of her being euthanized; but I went anyway, and when I walked in everyone was grinning from ear to ear. I went immediately back to her cage; and there she was, standing on her own, a big beautiful eagle. She was ready to live.

I was just about in tears by then. That was a very good day. We knew she could never fly, so the director asked me to glove train her.  I got her used to the glove, and then to jesses, and we started doing education programs for schools in western Washington.   We wound up in the newspapers, radio (believe it or not) and some TV. Miracle Pets even did a show about us.

In the spring of 2000, I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. I had stage 3, which is not good (one major organ plus everywhere), so I wound up doing 8 months of chemo. Lost the hair - the whole bit. I missed a lot of work. When I felt good enough, I would go to Sarvey and take Freedom out for walks. Freedom would also come to me in my dreams and help me fight the cancer.

This happened time and time again. Fast forward to November 2000 the day after Thanksgiving, I went in for my last checkup. I was told that if the cancer was not all gone after 8 rounds of chemo, then my last option was a stem cell transplant. Anyway, they did the tests; and I had to come back Monday for the results. I went in Monday, and I was told that all the cancer was gone. 

So the first thing I did was get up to Sarvey and take the big girl out for a walk. It was misty and cold. I went to her flight and jessed her up, and we went out front to the top of the hill. I hadn't said a word to Freedom, but somehow she knew. She looked at me and wrapped both her wings around me to where I could feel them pressing in on my back (I was engulfed in eagle wings), and she touched my nose with her beak and stared into my eyes, and we just stood there like that for I don't know how long . That was a magic moment. We have been soul mates ever since she came in. This is a very special bird.

On a side note: I have had people who were sick come up to us when we are out, and Freedom has some kind of hold on them. I once had a guy who was terminal come up to us and I let him hold her. His knees just about buckled and he swore he could feel her power course through his body. I have so many stories like that..  I never forget the honor I have of being so close to such a magnificent spirit as Freedom.  Hope you enjoyed this!

Cancer is a strange cell. You can go along for years in remission and then one day it pops its head up again.

If you ever have it you will never be free of it. Pray for the day there will be a permanent cure.

A SMALL REQUEST...  Just one line…

All you are asked to do is keep this circulating, even if it's only to one more person.  In memory of anyone you know who has been struck down by cancer or is still living with it.

Note to the Reader - the above was sent to me in an email over the weekend by my mother because of my love of animals and because I have lymphoma.  After reading the email, I felt compelled to share and I hope all of you will support my decision.  Thank you.  Alex Hutchins

MAGICAL PENIS THIEVES

No one is entirely sure when magical penis loss first came to Africa. One early incident was recounted by Dr. Sunday Ilechukwu, a psychiatrist, in a letter some years ago to the Transcultural Psychiatric Review. In 1975, while posted in Kaduna, in the north of Nigeria, Dr. Ilechukwu was sitting in his office when a policeman escorted in two men and asked for a medical assessment. One of the men had accused the other of making his penis disappear. This had caused a major disturbance in the street. As Ilechukwu tells it, the victim stared straight ahead during the examination, after which the doctor pronounced him normal. “Exclaiming,” Ilechukwu wrote, “the patient looked down at his groin for the first time, suggesting that the genitals had just reappeared.”

According to Ilechukwu, an epidemic of penis theft swept Nigeria between 1975 and 1977. Then there seemed to be a lull until 1990, when the stealing resurged. “Men could be seen in the streets of Lagos holding on to their genitalia either openly or discreetly with their hand in their pockets,” Ilechukwu wrote. “Women were also seen holding on to their breasts directly or discreetly, by crossing the hands across the chest. . . . Vigilance and anticipatory aggression were thought to be good prophylaxes. This led to further breakdown of law and order.” In a typical incident, someone would suddenly yell: Thief! My genitals are gone! Then a culprit would be identified, apprehended, and, often, killed.

During the past decade and a half, the thievery seems not to have abated. In April 2001, mobs in Nigeria lynched at least twelve suspected penis thieves. In November of that same year, there were at least five similar deaths in neighboring Benin. One survey counted fifty-six “separate cases of genital shrinking, disappearance, and snatching” in West Africa between 1997 and 2003, with at least thirty-six suspected penis thieves killed at the hands of angry mobs during that period. These incidents have been reported in local newspapers but are little known outside the region.

MORE HERE

A CAT STORY

by Victor M Adamus

The cat I love and who loves me most is a Himalayan I rescued from a pig farm in Palm Bay, Florida.  The man who bought her off an ad in a nationwide animal magazine thought he had bought a show cat to make money off one day and when he got her back home as a kitten soon found out she had a protruding tooth which would disqualify her from any hopes of the big money.  The kitten was obviously abused and I’m not sure how many ads he ran for a buyer to pay top dollar for the kitten but because a neighbor friend had seen how badly she was treated, she called me to the rescue knowing I already had a Himmie, our little Maggy, and my home would be perfect for a battered kitten.  As kind hearted as Maggy is, the hope was the older Himmie would care for the younger one.

I was shocked to see the kitten we named Zoey, cuddled under a china cabinet which was our first introduction.  Quite frankly, the owner never thought anyone would pay his price, that she would starve, just die, and he would write her off as a bad investment.  Yes, her protruding tooth would disqualify her as a show cat, she did however come from a line of famous felines, but the toof, as we lovingly call it, would not have made the grade in International Competition.

But I immediately fell in love with her and so paid the man his asking price and took her home only to find that she felt so threatened she first hid behind the dryer shaking; then having retrieved her from there, hid under the king sized bed in our bedroom, never to come out even to get some food.  I had to hand feed her to keep her alive and had to keep Maggy away from her because Maggy tried to attack her. Our hopes that Maggy would take her under her paws, so to speak, dwindled as time went on.  This was not going to be the relationship we had counted on. 

It took ten days before Zoey would come out from under the bed.  And when she did, she saw me working in my office from the hallway.  I saw her and developed a lump in my throat. 

She walked slowly into the office leaving my field of vision because of my large work desk.  Then with no notice, jumped onto the desk and into my in-basket and she has remained there every day since.  It’s her favorite place to sleep.  She’s in the basket now.  She adjusted, her way, and the wait was worth it.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a better pet.  We had a dog for 17 years who had to be put down and it broke our hearts.  We decided to get Maggy because a friend was leaving town and couldn’t take her with her.  She is true to the breed, has the Siamese killer instinct and is constantly finding lizards to catch even though she is an in house pet.  We never allow either cat to go out.  Both are neutered and although they often chase each other for exercise, no blood letting has occurred so we feel it’s safe to leave them together over night.

Zoey

Zoey wakes me every morning at 6am whether I need to get up at that time or not.  A very loving cat, she kneads on my arm, bites at my cheek, and purrs up a storm.  I always play dead so she stays with me longer and when I do wake she jumps off the bed and heads to the door waiting for me to open it so she can have her morning cookies.

 Zoey has her own blog and shares a blog with her sister Maggy.  Both kittehs are a big part of our lives and we are really glad we rescued the Zoey.