<![CDATA[Bri Deep - Writing]]>Tue, 09 Feb 2016 18:31:52 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[Provincial Cat Crisis: Their Fault, Or Ours?]]>Tue, 17 Sep 2013 00:44:48 GMThttp://brideep.weebly.com/writing/provincial-cat-crisis-their-fault-or-oursHave you ever wondered what it would be like to give birth four times every year? That’s the average year for a female cat that has not been spayed. The Nova Scotia feline population outmatches our human population by roughly 3:1. There is barely any funding or volunteers available to help organizations such as the NSSPCA to keep these animals off the streets and in loving homes. People need to step up, and make a difference by getting their cats spayed or neutered.

The overall feline population in the province is extremely high. There is estimated to be roughly one million stray/feral cats in the province, although many organizations feel this number could easily be doubled or tripled. The total population of people in our province is estimated to be roughly 900,000, meaning there are 2 or 3 kitties per human in this province. “The (Halifax Regional Municipality) has reported that they used results from a survey… that included the number of OWNED cats in (Halifax) – they came up with the figure of just under 100,000. So they said, there may be an equal number of UNOWNED cats on the streets” (The Halifax Cat Explosion, 3). This means that there are roughly 200,000 cats in HRM. They have not considered that the average abandoned cat isn’t fixed, and can cause hundreds more kittens to be born in the wild. This means that there could be close to 300,000 cats currently living in HRM, if not more. Add this to the fact that one female cat can be responsible for roughly 1,000,000 kittens in her lifetime, including her kittens’ kittens and theirs after that, and the number of felines is suddenly through the roof.

The SPCA simply cannot be relied upon as the sole method of feline population control. The NSSPCA is a non- euthanize organization. This means that no animals will be killed because they cannot find homes for them. They are one of the only SPCAs in Canada that is non-euthanize, although they are trying to make it mandatory for all to be no-kill. Throughout the United States, the Humane Society euthanizes “more than 3 million cats and dogs…in shelters” (Why You Should Spay or Neuter Your Pet, 5). It’s a sin that so many animals are put to death simply because nobody wants to give them the proper care and a loving home. 

The SPCA adopts cats out at a loss. It costs them $160 per kitten, and $250 per full-grown cat for the spay/neuter procedure. Remember that you in turn can adopt a kitten for only $100 or a full-grown cat for only $60. This is in lieu of getting a “free” kitten from your neighbour’s barn, and having to spend $400 or more on vet bills when your kitty is matured and needs her needles and to be fixed. Tammy Rhyno, the SPCA Cats representative and Vice President for Hants County, states, “The SPCA spends approximately $5000 per month on vet bills. And just this summer, we had to turn away around 100 kittens because there were no foster homes available.” Keep in mind that someone working for minimum wage full-time might only earn around $1500 every month. All funds for the SPCA come from donations and through fundraisers, and the blood, sweat, tears and love of animals from volunteer workers.

The Hants County SPCA runs as a no-shelter organization. They rely solely on foster care for the animals rescued. Foster homes for cats and dogs are mostly funded by the SPCA, although funding is scarce. At the moment they are down to 2 or 3 foster homes that are able to keep cats or dogs for any length of time. Nobody is willing to foster, using the excuses such as “We’re too busy” and “I don’t want to get too attached.” However, most of the people that are foster families have kids and live busy lives. It’s not about the sadness of the cats leaving; it’s about knowing that they are going to a good home and will be one less kitten abandoned in the snow banks this winter.

Cats have 4 breeding cycles per year (one for every 3 months). At age 6 months, a cat is considered sexually mature. This means that once each cat has reached the age of 10, she has given birth to roughly 200 kittens herself. This is based an average of 5 cats per litter, and 4 litters per year. Rhyno emphasizes, “The SPCA adopts out roughly 200 spayed and neutered kittens per year. Because of this, 800 cats won’t be born this spring. 3000 cats won’t have been born by next fall.” 

People need to spay or neuter their kittens. Contrary to popular belief, spaying and neutering leads to happier kitties that are in better shape and don’t “spray” or mark their territory. They also become more affectionate due to the decreased desire to find a mate and increased desire in staying home with humans. “Spaying/neutering can prevent serious diseases of the reproductive organs” (Spaying and Neutering: The Responsible Choice, 5), which in turn saves on trips to the veterinarian and some very costly procedures. 

The SPCA recommends spaying/neutering a cat anywhere from the age of 10-16 weeks. You can pick your kitten up from the vet’s after the procedure, and it is still as playful and loving as when you dropped it off. Older cats are more affected by the surgery, and are sluggish and in a lot of pain afterwards.

It is much cheaper to adopt your pet through the SPCA than it is to get an animal for free. They take care of all needles, spaying and neutering, and only charge you $100! The SPCA was created to help prevent animal cruelty, and while they are trying very hard to do their part, it’s extremely difficult when nobody wants to reach out and lend a helping hand. The provincial feline population is sky-high and constantly climbing. Do you want to be the reason Fluffy’s grand-kittens were abandoned and let die in a snow bank this winter?
 
Image found at www.exclusivelycats.blogspot.com
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<![CDATA[Something Old...]]>Tue, 17 Sep 2013 00:43:04 GMThttp://brideep.weebly.com/writing/something-oldDarted, daring glimpses from across the room. Eyes, slowly undressing, are gleaming eagerly with anticipation. Broad shoulders, not muscular, but obviously fit, barely contained within a knitted sweatshirt.

His grey eyes link mine, searching, with the ghost of a smile playing across those appealing lips. Cold wind smarting against my skin, damp sand tangled around my toes, warm jacket around my shoulders, supporting arm around my waist. His strong arms are around my shoulders, tight, trying to hold me together as I finally start fall apart.

Cozy, wrapped in his sweater, television murmuring in the background. Cars flash by, but seem distant, wrapped in a world made for two.


(May 30, 2012)
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<![CDATA[What Is Identity?]]>Tue, 17 Sep 2013 00:41:54 GMThttp://brideep.weebly.com/writing/what-is-identityIdentity is the collaboration of all things that 
make you who you are. 

It is compiled qualities and personality 
traits that show who you are. 

It’s how you see yourself, and how others perceive you. 

It’s the things that represent who you are. 

Your identity is everything that makes you 
different from or the same as someone else.
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<![CDATA[The Magic School Bus]]>Tue, 17 Sep 2013 00:40:41 GMThttp://brideep.weebly.com/writing/the-magic-school-bus                                                                             I always 
                                                                            believed that 
                                                                                the best manner 
                                                                                        of education 
                                                                                               was to take
                                                                                                a ride on the
                                                                                           Magic School bus.
                                                                                                           To see the
                                                                                                         world from the
                                                                                                                   perspective 
                                                                                                                         of an ant.
                                                                                                                  To see the way
                                                                                                                                 a baker
                                                                                                                    bakes his cake,
                                                                                                       and fly with your class 
                                                                                                                     through space.
                                                                                   Have a teacher with frizzy red hair,
                                                                                                                     teaching all the
                                                                                                  tiny wonders of the world.
                                                                                                               Or to read a book, 
                                                                                                                           any book,
                                                                                                  the words weaving pictures 
                                                                                                                           in your mind.
                                                                                                                   Mystic, far-away
                                                                                                         lands at your fingertips.
                                                                                                                                 Held within
                                                                                                                                     your palms,
                                                                                                                                        woven with
                                                                                                                                             limitations
                                                                                                                                        of the author’s
                                                                                                                                               imagination,
                                                                                                                                              and the size of
                                                                                                                                                          the spine.
                                                                                                                                                                 Worlds
                                                                                                                                              unravel in the mind,
                                                                                                                                                 drawing you in,
                                                                                                                                             forbidden.
                                                                                                                                         I still believe
                                                                                                                                 you should never
                                                                                                                                        judge a book
                                                                                                                                              by the cover,
                                                                                                                                  the image is nothing
                                                                                                                                                 compared to
                                                                                                                                    what the words
                                                                                                                                              inside evoke.
                                                                                                                                                       A pen is
                                                                                                                                               far mightier
                                                                                                                                 than the sword.
                                                                                                                                    Written words
                                                                                                                                           gave me what
                                                                                                                                      pictures could not.
                                                                                                                                                And the child 
                                                                                                                                                     within me
                                                                                                                                               would love
                                                                                  to take a ride
                                                                 on the Magic
                                                             School Bus

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<![CDATA[Our Mountain Escape]]>Tue, 17 Sep 2013 00:39:16 GMThttp://brideep.weebly.com/writing/our-mountain-escapeThe winds whisper through the trees, and hooves drum steadily beneath me. Birds cry out around us, and the mountain sighs. Off in the distance, I can hear the river rushing among the rocks and the trees, paying no mind to the things in its path. With my hands tangled in his black and white mane, I lean forward and he obliges my wishes with a rush of speed, the soft rocking horse gate growing ever faster as the ground blurs below us and the world becomes nothing but hoof beats and our bodies becoming one. The brilliant colours of the trees are a rushing rainbow flying past, comprised of reds, yellows, oranges, greens, and browns. His body stretches further beneath me as he lengthens his stride, accepting the challenges the trail lays before us. He bunches his muscles and together we soar over fallen logs and streams, and around jagged rocks and other debris that litter the trail. Our breaths are coming shorter and sharper, and his black and white mane is digging smartly into my fingers. Our bodies together have diminished to nothing but a blur of black, white, red, and orange in our frantic race against the wind. A sharp incline to the left and we slow back, panting heavily in unison. The rainbow of brush and river has made way to gravel, and civilization is becoming ever closer. A deep connection with nature and with each other has been all but lost in the sounds of car tires, human voices and cellphone reception.
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