Reunited!

Today Barbara and I decided that Little Mama was best left in the wild, and we reunited her with her buddy Mr. Woolie. She crawled into the cat shelter with him and they curled up together. By dusk they had polished off the fresh-cooked chicken Barbara brought them.

Not all cats are made for households. We can't tame them all, and we have to wonder if maybe some of them aren't happier living free. They will be cared for and fed for the rest of their lives, and they are in a very safe area, with hundreds of acres to roam.

A Thank you from Barbara

Well, Amy, I think I am going through a "grieving" period. I miss my Woolies. But each time I feel that way, it is overshadowed by the fact that, for the first time in their lives, they are all safe... and warm.

Out of sheer habit, I kept looking out my kitchen window for them. After dark, I even went out and stood on the porch for a few minutes, just thinking about how much you helped me accomplish in just 3 days. When I first told you about Little Mama Woolie and the Baby Woolies, I didn't think you or anyone would really care about my Big Mister Woolie. I am soooooo glad I told you about him, too. I have shed some tears since you left with them yesterday. I did sleep better last night, but dreamed about them most of the night. Whenever I would wake up, the realization that I no longer had to worry about their safety was monumentous. I love them all. I loved caring for them... even sometimes giving them treats beyond the regular canned and dry food... I loved watching the kittens playing on the porch... I loved watching Little Mama Woolie go nuts when I'd put catnip on a towell... but every morning, the fear of what I would find on the street... always having to make sure... well, that was simply taking a toll on me. I had already contacted several places when I found the one baby alongside the road last Sunday, and was feeling helpless and hopeless... until I contacted you.

I can never thank you enough, Amy. I've been thanking God for you almost constantly since you rescued them. So much so that He is probably saying "Al-RIGHT ALREADY, Barbara!!! I heard you!" :)

I would love to get updates on all of them, when convenient for you. Even if Big Mister Woolie has to go to sleep, just let me know. If he's OK enough to eventually be placed somewhere, that would be wonderful, but it is your decision. I know you will do what is best for him. As for Little Mama Woolie, yes, I would like updates. Where they are placed, etc. Again, you know what is best.

Thank you again, Amy......from my heart and soul...Barbara

Barbara.........she rescued them all

After years of worry and a week without sleep, Barbara can rest easy now. We caught them all. Mama Woolie and the dad, who is pretty beat up and has something wrong with one of his eyes. He will have surgery on Monday and Dr. Langlois will patch him up as best as possible. Mama will be reunited with her kittens and likely go into foster care where she can hopefully be tamed. Bootsie-Boy and father Woolie will be relocated to a safer area.

If only all people were as kind hearted as Barbara! If everyone took care of the strays on their property or in their neighborhood we wouldn't have the problems we have. She not only took the initiative to solve the problem but her financial contribution will help many more cats. After a year of dealing with so many irresponsible people, Barbara has restored my faith.

THANK YOU BARBARA!!!

Barbara K., making a difference

I've spent the past week corresponding with Barbara and going back and forth to Holland. For the past few years she has witnessed Little Mama Woolie give birth and then have her babies killed on the busy road. As she buried yet another baby on Sunday she decided she could take no more. She contacted 9 rescue groups. Few of them returned her calls and those who did said they couldn't help. Then came us. Barbara caught the 3 babies this week and they are now in our shelter awaiting their mama, who we hope to catch tonight. Barbara caught Bootsie-Boy, a neighborhood stray who we will be relocating somewhere safer, and is working on the mom and battered tom cat.

Why did nobody else help? I'm not sure I'll ever understand. EACH ONE COUNTS!!! I named them itsy, bitsy, & mitsy, though I'm not sure of their sexes yet. These babies likely wouldn't have been alive much longer.

So today is dedicated to Barbara, because she is making a difference, going the extra mile, and saving lives. NICE JOB BARBARA!! If only all people were as generous, kindhearted, and dedicated as you................

Animal control and why EVERYONE should spay/neuter

After You Cry, Tell Someone Why They Must Spay/Neuter


It is very hard to read... This is a very sad letter from a person doing a necessary but very, very sad job. Much could stop with just spay/neuter. Sometimes humans are SOOOOOO backward and stupid!


Yes, I Gas Dogs and Cats for a Living.I'm an Animal Control officer in a very small town in central North Carolina. I'm in my mid thirties, and have been working for the town in different positions since high school.


There is not much work here, and working for the county provides good pay and benefits for a person like me without a higher education. I'm the person you all write about how horrible I am.


I'm the one that gasses the dogs and cats and makes them suffer. I'm the one that pulls their dead corpses out smelling of Carbon Monoxide and throws them into green plastic bags. But I'm also the one that hates my job and hates what I have to do.


First off, all you people out there that judge me, don't. God is judging me, and I know I'm going to Hell. Yes, I'm going to hell. I wont lie, it's despicable, cold, cruel and I feel like a serial killer. I'm not all to blame, if the law would mandate spay and neuter, lots of these dogs and cats wouldn't be here for me to gas. I'm the devil, I know it, but I want you people to see that there is another side to me the devil Gas Chamber man. The shelter usually gasses on Friday morning.


Friday's are the day that most people look forward to, this is the day that I hate, and wish that time will stand still on Thursday night. Thursday night, late, after nobody's around, my friend and I go through a fast food line, and buy 50 dollars worth of cheeseburgers and fries, and chicken. I'm not allowed to feed the dogs on Thursday, for I'm told that they will make a mess in the gas chamber, and why waste the food. So, Thursday night, with the lights still closed, I go into the saddest room that anyone can ever imagine, and let all the doomed dogs out out their cages.


I have never been bit, and in all my years doing this, the dogs have never fought over the food. My buddy and I, open each wrapper of cheeseburger and chicken sandwich, and feed them to the skinny, starving dogs. They swallow the food so fast, that I don't believe they even taste it. There tails are wagging, and some don't even go for the food, they roll on their backs wanting a scratch on their bellies. They start running, jumping and kissing me and my buddy.


They go back to their food, and come back to us. All their eyes are on us with such trust and hope, and their tails wag so fast, that I have come out with black and blues on my thighs.. They devour the food, then it's time for them to devour some love and peace. My buddy and I sit down on the dirty, pee stained concrete floor, and we let the dogs jump on us. They lick us, they put their butts in the air to play, and they play with each other. Some lick each other, but most are glued on me and my buddy.I look into the eyes of each dog. I give each dog a name. They will not die without a name. I give each dog 5 minutes of unconditional love and touch. I talk to them, and tell them that I'm so sorry that tomorrow they will die a gruesome, long, torturous death at the hands of me in the gas chamber.


Some tilt their heads to try to understand. I tell them, that they will be in a better place, and I beg them not to hate me. I tell them that I know I'm going to hell, but they will all be playing with all the dogs and cats in heaven.


After about 30 minutes, I take each dog individually, into their feces filled concrete jail cell, and pet them and scratch them under their chins. Some give me their paw, and I just want to die. I just want to die. I close the jail cell on each dog, and ask them to forgive me. As my buddy and I are walking out, we watch as every dog is smiling at us and them don't even mov e their heads. They will sleep, with a full belly, and a false sense of security.


As we walk out of the doomed dog room, my buddy and I go to the cat room. We take our box, and put the very friendly kittens and pregnant cats in our box. The shelter doesn't keep tabs on the cats, like they do the dogs. As I hand pick which cats are going to make it out, I feel like I'm playing God, deciding whose going to live and die. We take the cats into my truck, and put them on blankets in the back. Usually, as soon as we start to drive away, there are purring cats sitting on our necks or rubbing against us.


My buddy and I take our one way two hour trip to a county that is very wealthy and they use injection to kill animals. We go to exclusive neighborhoods, and let one or two cats out at a time.They don't want to run, they want to stay with us.


We shoo them away, which makes me feel sad. I tell them that these rich people will adopt them, and if worse comes to worse and they do get put down, they will be put down with a painless needle being cradled by a loving veterinarian. After the last cat is free, we drive back to our town.


It's about 5 in the morning now, about two hours until I have to gas my best friends. I go home, take a shower, take my 4 anti-anxiety pills and drive to work.. I don't eat, I can't eat. It's now time, to put these animals in the gas chamber. I put my ear plugs in, and when I go to the collect the dogs, the dogs are so excited to see me, that they jump up to kiss me and think they are going to play.


I put them in the rolling cage and take them to the gas chamber. They know. They just know. They can smell the death.. They can smell the fear. They start whimpering, the second I put them in the box. The boss tells me to squeeze in as many as I can to save on gas. He watches. He knows I hate him, he knows I hate my job. I do as I'm told. He watches until all the dogs, and cats (thrown in together) are fighting and screaming. The sounds is very muffled to me because of my ear plugs. He walks out, I turn the gas on, and walk out.I walk out as fast as I can.


I walk into the bathroom, and I take a pin and draw blood from my hand. Why? The pain and blood takes my brain off of what I just did.In 40 minutes, I have to go back and unload the dead animals. I pray that none survived, which happens when I overstuff the chamber. I pull them out with thick gloves, and the smell of carbon monoxide makes me sick. So does the vomit and blood, and all the bowel movements. I pull them out, put them in plastic bags.


They are in heaven now, I tell myself. I then start cleaning up the mess, the mess, that YOU PEOPLE are creating by not spay or neutering your animals. The mess that YOU PEOPLE are creating by not demanding that a vet come in and do this humanely. You ARE THE TAXPAYERS, DEMAND that this practice STOP!


So, don't call me the monster, the devil, the gasser, call the politicians, the shelter directors, and the county people the devil. Heck, call the governor, tell him to make it stop. As usual, I will take sleeping pills tonight to drown out the screams I heard in the past, before I discovered the ear plugs. I will jump and twitch in my sleep, and I believe I'm starting to hallucinate.


This is my life. Don't judge me. Believe me, I judge myself enough.