Vegetarian, Vegan and Animal Rights

… who I’d gotten from the parents of a guy who apparently dealt drugs for a living and tried to breed dogs on the side to look legit. He apparently died in a violent drug deal and I suspect Duncan was a witness. Every 4th of July, he would climb under my desk and just shiver all night. Wouldn’t go out to potty, even with me staying close. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink. I pretty much had to plan to feed him early in the day, make sure he drank enough and peed before about 4 pm, and just snuggle him all night. (Florida is redneck-y enough that explosives will always be a big deal—even though the law says you can’t set off anything “explosive.” As if.)

So yeah, that was our 4th of July and New Year’s Eve for about the 15 years we had the little guy. Our newest cat was “feral” (stray in our old neighbourhood we’d been feeding and took the chance to move her with us, and she recently had some horrific tragedy and was lost to us for a couple weeks, returning skin and bones and unable to even walk straight…) and is now a proper indoor cat and recovering, but I see the same signs from her as Duncan displayed—random “booms” seem to send her into hiding and I suspect we’ll be snuggling her close all night.

Of course, the kind of people who think it’s great fun to blow things up are the first to dismiss animals’ fears—and probably don’t care about people with PTSD, either. They just want their “fun."