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Friday, October 26, 2007

I'm in a rambling mood all of a sudden; don't know why...

There has been talk of late regarding pet shops and the proposed banning thereof. (Good poll question there actually).

For my tuppenceworth, I've never liked pet shops; never liked zoos either for that matter. I don't agree with putting any animal in a cage and the citation that it's to protect and educate just doesn't cut it. In this age of television and the internet, these amazing creatures can easily be viewed in their natural habitat - which, it has to be said, is shrinking by the day and the fact that zoo operators espouse in defence of their cages.

I've never seen a live crocodile. I have, however, seen one on TV - the sort of TV that makes one think one's looking through a window so amazing is the definition.
That's good enough for me and if keeping animals from cages means I never get to view them live then so be it. I am not the issue here. And I won't demand a creature's freedom just to satisfy my selfish urge to ohh and ahh at nature.

Pet shops...well, they're in it for just the money - period. And the sight of the innocent wee puppies, oblivious to whatever fate awaits always has filled me with a certain regret. So much so that I consciously avoid all pet shops. There has always been rumours of 'puppy farms' where, I assume, dogs are spawned and passed on for money without any of the protectative (not sure that's a word but it should be!) measures available. Just a commodity - nothing more.

Steve Price, that poisonous wee dwarf who, hosts an afternoon radio show's first words when learning of the proposed ban, were - "you're goin to ruin a small business just because you don't like pet shops?" (or something similar) How sad that a/ it comes down to money and b/ that some peoples opinions of the matter are belittled by a national voice who should damn well know better, the wee shit.

Have I to remind you that these animals virtually live to please their masters? That they offer their lives in defence of same master? That they become the eyes of him/her?

They work in peace and in war; in sun and shine as they search for the lost and injured.
And all they ask in return is contact with their master; a pat on the head, scratch behind the ears as they pant, pant, pant with an almost smile, their tails wagging like buggery. It makes me smile.

And as for our feathered friends in cages, do NOT get me started!

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