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WINGS
Wednesday, 1 August 2007
Stop the Slaughter
Mood:  sad

Stop the Slaughter

 

Returning home from a routine trip to the library on Friday, July 13, 2007. I found one of my beloved cats lying on the floor in a pool of blood, her tiny body wracked with convulsions.  Checking on the others, I found two more unable to stand, their legs too shaky to hold their bodies, their bodies trembling fiercely.

 

Wrapping these three in towels, we headed for the Pet Emergency Hospital, where one of the first questions was whether I had recently given the cats a flea treatment—I had, that very afternoon.  The next quest: “Was it Hartz?”  Again, my answer was yes.  This was my first year using this particular brand.

 

When I left the hospital that night, it was without my three cats.  They were too far gone to make it through.  I left with instructions to bathe the remaining four and watch them closely.  I followed this.  They were quiet and nervous that night.  By the next morning, another cat was in full-blown seizures and the other three were blinking rapidly and jerking, their muscles starting to be affected.  Another trip to the Pet Hospital.  When I left this time, one more of my babies was gone and the other three had been admitted.  I was scared they would not make it.  These three did come home.  They survived physically, but my heart goes out to them as they wander through the house crying for those who are gone.

 

The look on the vet’s face got me thinking and I started to research.  This was not the first tragedy caused by Hartz flea treatment.  Cats have been dying from this product for years---yet the product remains on store shelves.  Unsuspecting consumers, wanting to protect their pets and trusting the Hartz name buy and use it—sometimes it is fine, all too often it ends in tragedy.

 

I am asking you today to take a stand with me and demand that Hartz remove their flea treatment for cats from the shelves. Hartz knows the danger, they are aware of the record, yet they continue—this slaughter must stop!! 

 

The warning on the box states simply the product should not be used on cats under five pound, pregnant or ill.  None of my seven fell into any of those categories—all were over five pounds, five over ten pounds.  None were pregnant.  All were healthy.  The youngest was just over two years old and the oldest six—not kittens.  Yet EVERY SINGLE ONE had a reaction!!!

 

How can you take a stand?  The first step is to make a copy of this letter and post it anywhere and everywhere you can.  Let people know the danger of this product.  Next, contact Hartz at:

Consumer Relations Department
The Hartz Mountain Corporation
400 Plaza Drive
Secaucus , NJ 07094 USA

Consumer Hotline
1-800-275-1414
Monday – Friday | 9 am – 5 pm EST

 

And insist they remove their product from the shelves.  If you see the cat flea treatment on a store shelf, talk to the store manager, let him or her know the danger and ask that it be removed.

 

Hartz, how many more lives must be lost before you stop this needless slaughter?  Is it going to take you seeing the pain and horror in your child’s eyes when they watch a beloved friend die?  Is it going to take looking into a pair of golden eyes that are begging for help as you hold the convulsing body that just hours before ran and played?  If there is any compassion at all within you, you will see the need to remove this product immediately.

 

I panic every time one of my remaining three moves quickly.  Hundreds of others out there do the same.  It is too late to save so many—it isn’t too late to save the rest!!! I ask each and every employee at Hartz to stop by the pet shop on your way home tonight—or maybe you have a cat at home –really look into that cat’s eyes and ask yourself this:  Doesn’t that cat’s life mean anything?  Is the money worth the pain and suffering?

 

If that doesn’t change your mind, look into your child’s eyes.  What would you do if you gave this precious child medicine to help him or her and instead of helping, the medicine attacked every muscle, caused convulsions – and death?

 

My cats were my children—just as so many others are to those who love them.  Find your conscious, search your hearts---and stop this senseless slaughter!!!

 

                                                              Joyce A. Anthony

                                                              rainbow@velocity.net

 

Posted by wings4help at 1:12 AM EDT
Sunday, 22 July 2007
Stop the Slaughter notice
Mood:  sad
Topic: Animal rights

Hello

To everyone that reads this. I will be posting a blog on the first of August called Stop the Slaughter. It deals with Hartz Company and a product they make called One-Stop flea treatment. They have the standard warnings of age, size, illness and pregnancy. They do NOT tell you that this product is also fatal to healthy, older cats! It doesn't kill them all but very very many have died as a result of this reckless endangerment.

I would appreciate it if everyone that reads the notice copies it and reposts it on every blog you have. This has got to stop!!!

Thank you

Ron


Posted by wings4help at 10:27 AM EDT
Thursday, 19 July 2007
Stop the Slaughter
Mood:  sad
Topic: Animal rights

This will be posted again in a week

 

Returning home from a routine trip to the library on Friday, July 13, 2007. I found one of my beloved cats lying on the floor in a pool of blood, her tiny body wracked with convulsions.  Checking on the others, I found two more unable to stand, their legs too shaky to hold their bodies, their bodies trembling fiercely.

 

Wrapping these three in towels, we headed for the Pet Emergency Hospital, where one of the first questions was whether I had recently given the cats a flea treatment—I had, that very afternoon.  The next quest: “Was it Hartz?”  Again, my answer was yes.  This was my first year using this particular brand.

 

When I left the hospital that night, it was without my three cats.  They were too far gone to make it through.  I left with instructions to bathe the remaining four and watch them closely.  I followed this.  They were quiet and nervous that night.  By the next morning, another cat was in full-blown seizures and the other three were blinking rapidly and jerking, their muscles starting to be affected.  Another trip to the Pet Hospital.  When I left this time, one more of my babies was gone and the other three had been admitted.  I was scared they would not make it.  These three did come home.  They survived physically, but my heart goes out to them as they wander through the house crying for those who are gone.

 

The look on the vet’s face got me thinking and I started to research.  This was not the first tragedy caused by Hartz flea treatment.  Cats have been dying from this product for years---yet the product remains on store shelves.  Unsuspecting consumers, wanting to protect their pets and trusting the Hartz name buy and use it—sometimes it is fine, all to often it ends in tragedy.

 

I am asking you today to take a stand with me and demand that Hartz remove their flea treatment for cats from the shelves. Hartz knows the danger, they are aware of the record, yet they continue—this slaughter must stop!! 

 

The warning on the box states simply the product should not be used on cats under five pound, pregnant or ill.  None of my seven fell into any of those categories—all were over five pounds, five over ten pounds.  None were pregnant.  All were healthy.  The youngest was just over two years old and the oldest six—not kittens.  Yet EVERY SINGLE ONE had a reaction!!!

 

How can you take a stand?  The first step is to make a copy of this letter and post it anywhere and everywhere you can.  Let people know the danger of this product.  Next, contact Hartz at:

Consumer Relations Department
The Hartz Mountain Corporation
400 Plaza Drive
Secaucus , NJ 07094 USA

Consumer Hotline
1-800-275-1414
Monday – Friday | 9 am – 5 pm EST

 

And insist they remove their product from the shelves.  If you see the cat flea treatment on a store shelf, talk to the store manager, let him or her know the danger and ask that it be removed.

 

Hartz, how many more lives must be lost before you stop this needless slaughter?  Is it going to take you seeing the pain and horror in your child’s eyes when they watch a beloved friend die?  Is it going to take looking into a pair of golden eyes that are begging for help as you hold the convulsing body that just hours before ran and played?  If there is any compassion at all within you, you will see the need to remove this product immediately.

 

I panic every time one of my remaining three moves quickly.  Hundreds of others out there do the same.  It is too late to save so many—it isn’t too late to save the rest!!! I ask each and every employee at Hartz to stop by the pet shop on your way home tonight—or maybe you have a cat at home –really look into that cat’s eyes and ask yourself this:  Doesn’t that cat’s life mean anything?  Is the money worth the pain and suffering?

 

If that doesn’t change your mind, look into your child’s eyes.  What would you do if you gave this precious child medicine to help him or her and instead of helping, the medicine attacked every muscle, caused convulsions – and death?

 

My cats were my children—just as so many others are to those who love them.  Find your conscious, search your hearts---and stop this senseless slaughter!!!

 

                                                              Joyce A. Anthony

                                                              rainbow@velocity.net

 

Posted by wings4help at 6:08 PM EDT
Tuesday, 10 July 2007
The pots God plants us in
Mood:  sad
Topic: abuse in general

The following story doesn't have anything to do with abuse, or does it? Read it and see which side you relate to. Do you accept people as they are or must they look like us?

To judge others based soley on appearance is a form of abuse, really. Oysters are downright ugly, but the pear within is stunning. Read and see what I mean.

 Ron

The Pots God Plants Us In
Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients at the clinic.
One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old, " I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face, lopsided from swelling, red and raw.
Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning." He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon, but with no success. No one seemed to have a room.
"I guess it's my face. I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments, it will get better."
For a moment, I hesitated, but his next words convinced me. "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning."
I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper around and when we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us.
"No, thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.
When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take a long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint. In fact, every other sentence was prefaced with thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.
At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair."
He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind."
I told him he was welcome to come again.
And, on his next trip, he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen! He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us, there was never a time he didn't bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times, we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery. Fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had, made the gifts doubly precious.
When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But, oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him. From him, we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.
Recently, I was visiting a friend, who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!"
My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, until I can put it out in the garden."
She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in Heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body."
--Unknown

Posted by wings4help at 2:09 PM EDT
Updated: Tuesday, 10 July 2007 2:47 PM EDT
what makes us different?
Mood:  energetic
Topic: abuse in general

Why WINGS? What makes us special? We are writers, we can be the voice of those that can't speak. We are the people that can tell the world what is happening under their noses. We need to use our voice, our words to shout to the world, enough is enough.

 We need to tell those that are being abused that they are not alone. By putting the word out to the world, the victims can see that there is help available. We can show them they are not alone. We are not some corporate sponsor that thinks that throwing money at it will solve the problem. It won't. Yes, we need the corporate funding to pay for the programs, but no progam is any good if the people that need it don't know about it, or can't get to it.

 We need to spread the word also so that abuse can and will be recognized. Did your neighbors son really fall down the stairs? How shy is your neighbor? Maybe she (or in rare cases, he),is forced to stay inside, away from the world. Do you know anyone like that? Check the WINGS website for hotlines and available resources in your area.

 We can't do this alone!! Help us stop the violence. Spread the word, WINGS is here to stay, to help those who need it.


Posted by wings4help at 12:45 PM EDT
Thursday, 25 January 2007
The Land of the Free?
Topic: Native American rights

Everywhere I turn I see signs in myltiple languages.  I hear protests from people who insist they be allowed to live here and be schooled in their native language and other such privileges. This is something I'm in agreement with to a point.  Every child deserves to know the language and tradition of his ancestors.

This is where I see a problem. The first inhabitants of this country were the native Americans--a proud people who lived with the land, not just on it.  These people have their own language, their centuries-old customs.  Yet, while those from other countries are being given special breaks for this and that, those who were here first are pushed aside.

English is what they are told to speak, not the flowing languages of their ancestors.  They are herded onto reservations and told they should be happy.  Their children are taught English ways--no special classes in tune for their Native religion or special privileges based on their ancient culture.

It's past time for a change.  This proud People needs to be allowed to stand straight and true again.  Classes are conducted in Spanish.  Why not Lakotah?  Cultural dress is allowed in every public place--why not the beautifully handcrafted head-dresses of the Mohawk?

Yes, every child needs to be free to learn the ways of his ancestors.  It's time we make a stand and insist the Native American child also has that freedom--in the very country in which his ancestors have always lived. Why is that do difficult to see?

 

 


Posted by wings4help at 10:17 PM EST
Wednesday, 24 January 2007
Property or person
Topic: Domestic violence

 

 

 

 

 



“I paid for it, I can do what I want with it”. This should have been a red flag, but young love is blind. Kevin and Arlene met in high school but did not start dating seriously until they graduated. It an idyllic courtship. The engagement was not unexpected. There were the standard ups and downs, of course.

What is it about a gold or silver ring that changes a man? The first indication of trouble occurred a couple of weeks into the engagement. It wasn’t anything major. Kevin had purchased a vase and had it on the coffee table. On this night he was in a rather surly
Mood. Suddenly and without warning, Kevin picked up the vase and heaved it across the room. His energy and his anger spent, he went over and cleaned up his mess. Saying he was sorry but it was a rough day at work. Had he stopped there, Arlene would not have had the glimpse into his dark side. He added, “I paid for it, I can do what I want with it.”

Love is not only blind, it is deaf as well. These little incidents started happening more frequently. As first it was just his property, his possessions, he destroyed. By the time he started taking his anger out via things he had purchased for Arlene, she had come to expect it. She never read the signs.

The day of their wedding was the happiest day of her life. In fact it preceded the last two weeks of happiness she would ever see. They returned from their honeymoon a couple of days early. Kevin wanted them to be settled in their house before he returned to work.

Kevin’s income was sufficient for now that Arlene didn’t have to work. Since Arlene didn’t have to work, people were used to her not leaving the house for days at a time. No one really suspected anything when they talked to her on the phone. Granted the phone calls became more and more infrequent but she was a newlywed. As her calls became more distant, less informative though, her friends started wondering. Invites to coffee or lunch went unanswered. Vibrant, vivacious, talkative Arlene was becoming a mime.

Inside the house (this was not a home, by a long shot), things were much different. When Kevin bought the house he made sure it was set away from the others and was on the end lot of the new development. Life at the Kevin house was lonely. He hated animals and only had one phone and it was in the den where he could lock it up in the morning. Kevin owned this house, he owned everything in it, including Arlene. He did love her, in his own way, but since he paid for the wedding, he owned her. She was his property and was treated accordingly. Arlene did not see the trap, until it shut. He did not lock the phone away right away, until he realized that was a means of escape for her.

When Kevin went on vacation and went by himself, his co-workers suspected something was wrong. The day after he left town to go hunting, Arlene’s mother went over to the house. She knew she couldn’t when Kevin was home. No one had heard anything. The police did catch up with him before he got too far. Arlene was not in the car, but it was obvious where she had been.

At the trial, Kevin defended himself. He got life. On his way to prison someone overheard him say, “I paid for it, I can do what I want with it”.

This is not really an extreme case. Granted this one is fictional, but it is played out all too often for real. The goal of WINGS is to point the signs of a control type personality. Let us show you the traps before you are sucked in. Love may be blind, but learn the pitfalls before getting totally sightless. Are you property? Or a person?


Posted by wings4help at 10:09 PM EST
Updated: Thursday, 25 January 2007 10:16 PM EST
Tuesday, 23 January 2007
WINGS--Helping Others Learn to Soar
Topic: General

You're probably wondering "Who are these people and what are they all about?"  That is what I'm going to talk about tonight.

WINGS is a group of writers that has joined together to bring about awareness and change in the world.  Too often people in certain areas are overlooked--or disregarded--and left to exist in a world that holds no future and no happiness.  We want to change that.

We want to help Mary see she doesn't need to be some man's punching bag.  We want little Suzy and Gary to know their bodies are not toys and there are people who care.  We want to make the government aware that Aunt Jane and Uncle Joe need medicine they can't afford, and may well die without it.  Cindy needs to know that her baby is well-taken care of while she works and know she can take care of her health needs as well as his.

Those living on the streets, facing death every night need warm homes and full bellies and those stuck away on reservations need to be allowed to regain their pride, allowed to live the lives of their ancestors.  Children suffering emotional disorders need early and effective treatment, not tossed aside as bad and shoved off alone to "get out of the way".  They need to be recognized for the talented, intelligent humans they can become with proper treatment and guidance.

Can we do this alone?  The answer is NO--we need you, every one of you.  We need all who can to help make the world aware that a great many of this world's population is being tossed aside.  How many of these could work near-miracles if given a chance to spread their wings, know their own worth--and learn to soar? 

If you believe you can help in any way--maybe you write or run a program for those who need it.  Maybe you are a government official who is willing to listen--and work for changes in the law.  Maybe you are a doctor and lawyer a housewife--you have something to offer.  Contact one of us and we will work with you and be greatful for your help.

Joyce:  rainbow@velocity.net

Ron:  unwriter@yahoo.com

Babs:  lakotahwriter@yahoo.com

We need you--the world needs you!!!  Contact one of us today and go to bed knowing you have made the world a better place with your efforts.

 


Posted by wings4help at 11:22 PM EST
Monday, 22 January 2007
Domestic Violence--The Hidden Beast
Topic: Domestic violence

 

High school, where estrogen meets testosterone; it is less a meeting of the minds as much as a clash of bodies. Emerging from this supercharged, hormonal drenched atmosphere were football tackle Jay and cheerleader Kathie. Everyone called them the perfect couple. Jay, the macho sports star was a teddy bear in Kathie’s hands. His manners were impeccable. Kathi, sweet, demure, Katie was at Jay’s beck and call. College was not an option, so Jay went to work in his father’s garage.

No one was surprised by the engagement. Kathie’s parents took out a second mortgage to throw their only daughter, their only child, the best wedding ever. Although Jays parents were struggling to make ends meet, they managed to scrape together enough for a two-week cruise.

Sharon remembers the day they returned. This was the day the honeymoon was over, today Sharon saw Kathi smile for the last time. In fact, it was the last day anyone saw her, until the ambulance pulled up to her house.

"No Visitors" was all Sharon could learn about her friend. Neither Kathie’s mother, nor Jay, once she finally got hold of him, would comment. It was the call six weeks later that finally cleared things up.

In public, Jay was the kindest, most well mannered person. At home, behind closed doors, the real beast emerged. Jay had always been frustrated about his ability to learn. He wanted to go to college, but didn’t have the grades. He would take out his frustrations on the football field. Once he got married, the frustrations continued. His new object for frustration relief was Kathi. It didn’t matter what she did or didn’t do, he still used her for a punching bag. The last time put her in the hospital. It also spelled the end of the marriage because once out of the house, she could tell what went on and could now escape.

 

This is a fictional account, but it happens all too often. WINGS is here to provide information and resources to help others in this type of situation. It happens way too often. We need to let women know there is help available.


Posted by wings4help at 10:18 PM EST
Sunday, 21 January 2007
Health Care--Where Do We Turn?
Topic: Medical care issues
One of my main concerns in life is wondering about health care.

Will it be available at all in the future?

What quality of care will it be?

Can I afford any of the insurance plans available?

Can I even afford the minimum co-pays of most plans.

How do you feel about national health care?
If you are like a cousin of mine who has a very nice high-paying job
in technology, you would probably say," Hell, let them get a better
job so they will have insurance."
Ask the waitress at your favorite restaurant what she does when she
needs medical care for herself, or a family member. She doesn't make
enough to buy insurance, and the pay is so low, that in most cases
she would let the problem go until it became very serious.

Early in my life, I was not covered by any medical insurance plan. My
dad was a poor logger.Insurance was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Then, I was severely injured when I was 10 years old. A charity
called the, Crippled Children's Fund, paid my medical expenses.

Early in my working career, I had jobs that provided good medical
insurance plans.Then the oil crisis in the late 70's caused the plant
I worked in to close.

There I was with a wife,and two samll children when trouble struck
again. Both children broke their arms the same day when they fell out
of the tree in our back yard.

Several more plant layoffs occurred,and family a illnness seemed to
happen almost immediately after the job loss. We learned very quickly
that the system in America did not favor un-employed people, or
people in low-paying jobs.

After being mentally abused many times through the years, I came to
realize that American's were being denied a right that was available
to almost all citizens of the other industrialized nations of the
world,a national health care plan that would protect a person's life
in case of illness, or accidents.

Wouldn't it be nice if all of us had the exact same medical plan that
the Congress gives to it's Members-of-the-Club.
You and I know that will never happen,but a national health care plan
of mere survival benifits should be available to every American.

The business community, especially those protected by the FDA, the
AMA, and the insurance and drug companies are vehemently opposed, and
I can't blame them.If we have national health care, then their
profits would be average, instead of astronomical,and obscene.

I have been at both ends of the medical care situation. My wife and I
have received very good care when we had excellent insurance at our
places of employment,but when circumstances changed, we did not get
the same level of care.

Oh sure! An ER will see you if you don't have money or insurance,but
do you get the same level of attention that you would if you were
insured? I know you don't in my area of the country.

The latest figures I have seen say there are over 42 million
American's with no health care insurance.

If Canada and most nations of Europe can have health care for their
citizens, why can't America?

Does an American citizen have any value to the state, or society in
general?

Posted by wings4help at 12:08 PM EST

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