Thursday, September 11, 2014
This is the vehicle of one of two or three slaughter hogs of my next-door neighbor’s animal dump team. I’ve seen this vehicle at her house over the last three years during the exchanging and dumping of cats and dogs.
It always has these same eerie, covered and bound containers in the bed. That would seem to make this deluxe vehicle oddly unusable, and who would do it? The grim reaper of the animal dump team is who. It’s too spooky.
Figure out who the driver is and with whom he consorts and you will find at least a small rats’ nest of dirty, law-breaking serial killers. I say that because I know this man has participated in a program involving the exchange of dozens of animals, many of which perished. City ordinances hobble our animal control officers, and the team’s method is highly polished and perfected to bring about the desired result and elude detection by police. Nonetheless, this practice violates state and federal laws.
The picture was taken Friday, September 5, 2014. He picked up something at my neighbor’s house. I assume it was her three cats, because since then I haven’t seen her outside with them, something that had been a daily routine. What pigs!
Dumping animals, killing my cat Fuzzy and hazing me is one of the cow patty flowers in the manure bouquet that is my father’s wife’s gift of respect and affection, as is the Man of Steal’s taking the money in the trust.
Another of the bouquet’s doo-doo daffodils is the poisoning of the food and water in my home. Apparently, putting the note on my refrigerator caused second thoughts and a poisoning sabbatical. I haven’t encountered contaminated food or water for more than two months. I feel great and my body works like it should.
I haven’t washed the vomit-splattered bathroom rug since the first of the year to remind me of an especially violent, explosive puking. I’d had this throwing up eight or 12 times in the previous year to a lesser extent. The New Year’s event marked a turning point, and this has happened a dozen times since the beginning of 2014.
I learned to eat just one bite and drink only one swallow of any food or liquid not in a sealed container, then wait. It was always the same contaminant and the same experience. In five minutes, my stomach would begin to tighten and ache. After 10 or 15 minutes, it was clear something was wrong. After 30 minutes, I began to belch a taste and aroma like the odorant in natural gas, that bright, strong taste of rotten eggs. After one hour, I couldn’t stop throwing up everything in my digestive tract in the first convulsion. I would begin sweating, and end up sweating what seemed a gallon of water as I dry-heaved gastric fluid. During that phase, I would start to blur out and wonder if I was going to survive it. Then, I would usually collapse and sleep for two or three hours, hoping I’d wake up soon.
The event was never accompanied with diarrhea, although the last time I did emit one small but sulfuric fart, something very different. The extreme power and specificity of the contaminant’s action along with my inability to explain how the contaminated food or water became tainted gave it away as deliberate poisoning with something exotic. Before I learned to take just one bite or swallow, I might dry-heave for many days when not passed out from it. As I recovered, I was disoriented and furious for a couple days.
Don’t believe what you see on TV, that people who steal and kill meet the law. Certainly the Man of Steal is pleased so much has gone into the attempt to kill me, and he must be disappointed so many attempts haven’t succeeded. He shouldn’t be. Every prosecutor in Oklahoma County knows about this. In my case, taking $190,127.50 and attempted murder aren’t parking level violations.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
The animal dump family living to the immediate east is in full production mode. Here is the latest flea-infested, unfixed, unvaccinated cat desperate for food and water every day for many weeks. Today I had the unhappy job of taking this kitty to the animal welfare center.
These people are still on my stepmother’s payroll hoping to produce lots of work and expense, not to mention a blood feud that branches into further trouble. This has been going on for years with no sign it will end. Certainly, stepmom assured me that whatever I do, wherever I may move, I will always have this problem in that she’ll see to it.
I used to take these animals to the doctor and put them in first class condition. I can no longer do this as my condition deteriorates. Fostering these animals has proven to encourage more dumping. They have a much better chance for survival at another location than here where my neighbor’s family appears to be patronizing petmemories.com, a home pickup pet cremation service. Where is the love of God?
Updated 9/4/14: The girl next door and her daughter are spending much time on my porch, pounding on the door, shouting threats and attempting to entice the two cats under my care. When I open the door, they quickly retreat. I wish everyone could have these hired weirdoes as their neighbors.