The Airbnb/VRBO Dilema

 We live in trying times where first world sacrifices are painfully plausible. Especially now, for my husband and myself.  We have a tiny, one room casita in our front courtyard.  Ten years ago we decided, with the encouragement of our son, to rent our guesthouse on a relatively new app called airbnb. I was very hesitant, however, my husband convinced me.  We downloaded the app, set a price and the rest is history. When I read how airbnb began, I loved the quirkiness of its founders and the laid back approach of how everything worked. Now, in these turbulent times, we may have to decide to say goodbye to airbnb if we want to help change this toxic situation our country is now facing. 

We have an incredible reputation on airbnb with almost one thousand reviews and a 4.98 star rating. There have been many changes to, what I call, my dollhouse.  New floors, an added window, an added kitchenette, a bathroom redo, and an added, outdoor courtyard exclusively for our guests that looks like a European outdoor dining area. Airbnb manages our rental activity at 3%. That's low. (VRBO charges 10%.) Basically we've been working for Airbnb for ten years and they have served us well. Because of organization, we've paid off our house, and our now able to add a nice supplement to our meager Social Security benefits.  We, indeed, are a ma and pa business.

When I read that airbnb supports this cold hearted administration and all the crazy, cruel things they're doing, my heart sank, but I quickly looked away. What really disturbed me were the hateful comments that the left were ssying about people like me. They too were cold hearted snd quick to be self-righteously judgemental.  Frankly, it makes me angry, really angry because their anger and judgments cost them nothing. They don't seem to have any problem saying people like me are the problem. So, I thought f#$k it, we're staying with Airbnb. 

However, from the beginning, I saw an exasperating change occur on the airbnb platform.  Corporations were buying homes that could have been affordable rentals for familes, and turning them into short term rentals listed on airbnb. At first the change seemed to happen slowly, then every time I'd look at reviews of guests, it was from a "host" with several units and properties.  

People who judge others who don't immediately adhere to their ideological standards, become just like the thing they're against. They don't put themselves in our shoes and they have no idea that it's a big decision for people like my husband and myself. And not just us. There are people less fortunate than we are who have much more to lose. Yes, sacrafices need to be made, and a lot of times it's painful. So, for God's sake, give us time to chew on, let alone swallow,  the cost of our decision.  

Recently I read that Joe Gebbia, a former founder of airbnb who owns 7% of the organization, just joined with musk and the new DODGE team.  But I can't seem to find information on Brian Chesky, who owns 10% of Airbnb.  In my search, I did read that three years ago, Chesky supported the Obama Foundation with a $100,000,000 pledge.

From The Chronicle of Philanthropy: "May 2022, Chesky pledged $100 million over 5 years to the Obama Foundation to launch a scholarship program for students pursuing careers in public service. The Voyager Scholarship aims to support students in their junior and senior year of college with up to $50,000 in financial aid, a $10,000 stipend, and free Airbnb housing to pursue a summer work-travel experience; a $2,000 travel credit every year for 10 years following graduation; an annual summit; and a network of mentors.[41]"

According to opensecrets.org Brian Chesky seems democrat because he donates to democrats:

$4,384.00 New Jersey Democratic State Cmte (D) F

Money to Parties CHESKY, BRIAN

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103 CEO 11-04-2014 $2,402.00 New Jersey Democratic State Cmte (D) F

Money to Candidates CHESKY, BRIAN

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103 CEO AND CO-FOUNDER 04-02-2015 $2,700.00 Kamala Harris (D) F

Money to Candidates CHESKY, BRIAN

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103 CEO/CO-FOUNDER 03-23-2015 $2,700.00 Charles E Schumer (D) F

Money to Candidates CHESKY, BRIAN

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103 CEO AND CO-FOUNDER 04-02-2015 $2,700.00 Kamala Harris (D) F

Money to Candidates CHESKY, BRIAN

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103 CEO/CO-FOUNDER 03-23-2015 $2,700.00 Charles E Schumer (D) F

Money to Parties CHESKY, BRIAN

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103 CEO 05-24-2016 $5,000.00 Democratic Party of California (D) F

Money to Candidates CHESKY, BRIAN

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103 CEO AND CO-FOUNDER 09-30-2014 $5,800.00 HARRIS, KAMALA D (D)"

As much as I tried, I could not find anything about Chesky's 2025 political stance. So, who the hell do we believe? An antitrump website who says that Airbnb is supporting trump, or the information I have found trying to research the truth.  Airbnb could indeed, support maga. What I don't understsnd though, is if Chesky owns 10% stock/ownership in airbnb, and he's shown strong Democratic support, how did this right wing backing happen???

If it is clear that my husband and myself will have a hard pill to swallow if we switch to VRBO,  (Owned now by Expedia.) we'll do it!  But not before we put a good deal of effort into finding answers to our own questions.

To all of my Liberal friends, don't be so quick to jump to conclusions or you'll become just like the people  you criticize!

You could say I lost my faith in science and progress

You could say I lost my belief in the Holy Church

You could say I lost my sense of direction

And you could say all of this and worse but

If I ever lose my faith in you

There'd be nothing left for me to do

Some would say I was a lost man in a lost world

You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV

You could say I lost my belief in our politicians

They all seemed like game show hosts to me.

I could be lost inside their lies without a trace

I never saw no miracle of science

That didn't go from a, a blessing to a curse

Never saw no military solution

That didn't always end up as something worse 

Prayer, God , Politics, and Other Musings

 I was praying this morning, yes, praying. It was right after reading divisive posts on Threads. I put down my phone, put my head in my hands rubbed my eyes, as if trying to wipe those words out of my brain. And I started to pray, "Father God, Mother God..." For the first time, I addressed God as mother, and also for the first time I felt a type of sweet nuturing, compassion and empathy. I paused just to relish the moment, then began, "Help our country! Do something!" More words came to mind. But this time from a dear friend of mine.  She said she believed in God but didn't believe in prayer.

In my stream of thought, I remembered years ago, after spending a few decades in churches that did not encourage us to entertain any thoughts that would cause us to doubt, I came to a conclusion.  If God is love, if God is everything they say, then God can handle my doubting self. 

Yet here I am, again, praying, wondering, doubting. "God, help our country! Do something!" Then again, aren't all the people who voted for this power hungry autocrat, aren't they praying too? I know some  "Christians" are ecstatic he is president, they think he will protect their middle class money.  They love him for banning abortion (and cutting public education funds, and funds to help single mothers)  they are praying God will protect this billionare. This presidential felon! This president who bragged about grabbing women by the pussy! These Christians are praying God will protect him! Did they pray for Obama? He certainly could have used it. Especially when right wing supporters called his wife a gorilla.  And Biden? Did they pray for him? If they did, I missed it!!!

So it leads me to this question. Whose prayer does God answer? 

In one corner of the world, a sick, exhausted person is praying desperately for cancer, that's eating them alive, to leave their body. Then after begging God for a miracle, it happens. The doctors confirm the cancer is gone. A joyful celebration follows with emotional exclamations of gratitude !

Alternatively,  somewhere else in the world, a horrific car accident happens, a child is in critical condition and rushed to the hospital. At her bedside, parents, church members and friends are pleading with God to spare this child's life. Yet she dies anyway. Grief beyond measure follows. The loss is beyond words.

Why one and not the other? An eternal question with, at best, feeble answers from people who haven't experienced a deep loss. Those who are veterans of profound loss, only shake their heads.

And so it goes. Praying for peace, love and liberty for all can mean different things to different people. 

Our country is seriously falling apart. Christian Nationalism is everywhere, and the ,"we vs they" mentality is kicking in on a grand scale. The "theys" are people like me who are considered backslidden or, simply put, blind. On a darker level people like me, or the "theys" are considered influenced by a demon or the devil himself. Still, I prayed. A prayer different from most of my prayers. A prayer to miraculously get white billionares out of the white house, a petition that all people and religions will celebrate  freedom. 

So, to pray or not to pray? I'm not sure anymore, but I still pray. Even more so these days, I pray. I can't stop. I choose not to stop. Last year, I tried to give up God altogether, it might have lasted a week.  One thing I've decided to believe is that God is good! God is love, God is spirit. At times, I feel God's presence, it's very peaceful. Sometimes, when I'm desperately praying for pain to go away, whether physical, mental or emotional, I don't feel him/her at all, but somehow, very slowly, I survive and climb down from that lonely edge.

 Years ago, I had the most brilliant student with parents who probably should not have procreated.   I loved that kid! He was brilliant, way smarter than me when it came to academics. A genious in a fifteen year old body. However,  his problems were insurmountable! I tried to help, but all I could do was listen and try to answer his questions.  One thing I told him, "Brett, if you don't remember most of what I say, please remember this, always move towards love! ALWAYS!" He remembered,  but the emotional darkness he lived in pulled him down too far. When I got the message from his father that he had died, I wasn't surprised, but I was devastated. 

His father believed his girlfriend shot him.  I was told they had a horrible argument and the girl was leaving him. Brett grew up with lots of guns in his house, so he had easy access. I believe he shot himself in a highly emotional moment of despair.  I prayed for Brett everyday. I prayed he would miraculously find a way out of the jaws of a toxic environment. Instead, this brilliant boy was shot and killed. His voice still haunts me. I still can see his face. Sometimes, like now, I feel him. Why didn't God answer my prayer???

So, there ya have it. That's all I've got. I'll still pray for this country.  I'll pray for what I believe is good and just. I'll pray our country moves towards love  not what some believe are morals. Just like with Brett though,  this country, or what I believe was our country, could die in an instant. And also just like Brett, I won't be surprised, IBut I'll be devastated!

Overview

Lyrics

Listen

When the war is over

And we go back to every day, every day

Will it be the same again

When you been turned inside out and outside in?

Singing from the windows

Shadows on the wall, the way they dance

It's not much of nothing

But look at this fire burning bright

Look at how the children play

Well, none of us know what's to come tomorrow

But I'm not going out today

So dance with me like the time we've got is borrowed

Singing from the windows

Sirens in the dark, where are you going?

Pretend that it's nothing

But look at this fire burning wild

This is how we keep holding on

All the days, all day long

But sometimes things just fall apart

No matter how we try, they won't stop

Singing from the windows

Something outside but I don't know

When the war is over

Picking up the pieces of every day

Memories and picture frames

Trying to put the inside out and the outside in

Singing from the windows

Walking down the hall, nowhere to go

Be good to see you

We'll get going again

When the war is over

CLL, the Pink Elephant in the Middle of the Room

 "This is Doctor..., I'll call back around five when I'm done for the day." Chronic Lymphocytic Luekemia, stage zero. That's what it turned out to be. "At least you have the good kind of cancer". Whatttttt? Okay.  Let it go, be thankful it's not eating you alive. So, after about four months of scouring the internet, wondering, obsessing, I was officially diagnosed. 

Although it's "the good kind of cancer", it turns out it's nothing but a languid, teasing, laughing at you, type of creeping mind game that will be with you until you die. "You'll probably die with it, rather than of it." I'm thinking that was probably meant to be some sort of consolation the medical specialists use to console you. And if I'm being honest, it did "console" me for a minute.

So I swept those dirty little lymphocytes under my proverbial rug and got on with my life. I mean, there were so many other people way worse than my "good" cancer. Just be grateful, keep on doing what I'm doing and let it go, I told myself.

Well, letting it go would be all fine and dandy, but IT won't let me go. And there's this tiny problem called fatigue. Even before the diagnosis, I told Phil that something wasn't right in my body. That I was tired too much, and for too long. I blamed it on age. Later I blamed it on depression. After all, I lost three dogs in a year, and in that same year, the country that I thought I knew so well turned out to be an entirely different place. Not a great year at all!

We're about five weeks into the new year. I have an amazing new dog, who I believe was sent by Milo, and another adorable big boy dog who is nothing but a misunderstood cuddlebug. But I also, just lately, have another bug. It's been hanging on to my sweet little self for  over two weeks now. Sore throat, dull earache, a little achey, and of course my partner, fatigue. 

We went for a drink the other night with a couple who works with Phil. A wonderful, fun couple. As the conversation went, and our first round of alcoholic beverages warmly settled in, I brought up the CLL. "It's really not as bad as it sounds, stage zero, I'll most likely die with it rather than of it", I confidently said in a reassuring tone. (The reassuring tone part was, truthfully, only for me.) Mo, the delightful lady from half of the couple,  told me it's a good thing I take care of myself. But at this point, she didn't know that for most of 2024 all I did was eat too much food and drink too much wine. It was one of the shittiest years of my life, and I caved; winding up in the dingy, dark corridor of negativity. 

She then told me her father died from CLL. As nonchalantly as  I could, hoping not to seem concerned by her comment, I asked her, with what I believe, was a lighthearted tone, "What part of CLL caused his death?"   "Sepsis" she replied.  "He had a bug and it turned into Sepsis". 

If you have those nasty, damn little lymphocytes, it means it takes longer to recover from "bugs". But clearly, her father didn't take care of himself. Right???

My mind didn't really race, because at this point in my life, nothing in me races. But it did cause that subtle, small voice in my head, whose job it is to question everything I hear, read or think about, come forward to get my attention. And after that depressing 2024, the voice whose job it is to question,  basically had me submit to all things negative,  "Hmmmm, do you really take care of yourself???" (Dark emphasis on the word really.) "What does that actually mean...take care of yourself?" (Think of a 1920’s,  stereo typical villain. Skinny, white, pasty skin, black haired man , squinty eyes, with an El Bandito style mustache. As he's talking, he's continually curling his thin, black mustache with his fingers.)

Then, what pursued was a serious conversation in the coffee shop area of my mind. Subjects were brought up as banter ensued. Especially the idea about pulling up positivity! Certainly that right there is where all good feelings, outlooks on life, and peace begins. 

The part of my mind whose job it is to question murmured hastily,  almost in a deep whisper, "Is it though?" ( Again envision the 1920’s villian.)

 And so it went.

I shouldn't be surprised at this point in my life with CLL. The mind game part is always wondering,  always present.  So far, for over a year, CLL shows itself in the form of a looming, somber, dark cloud; a rainy day.

Let me say right now though, I'm certainly not minimizing the fact that there are ever so many who are much worse off than me, whose lives have been forever changed and even destroyed by cancer. Indeed, I'm grateful that I have "the good kind of cancer". Even more so, for now, I'm  thankful that I'm in stage 0, which only means blood tests twice a year.

 The other day my wonderful son sent me a text asking, "How has your health been lately?" I flippantly told him I've had a bug, but that I was good. Getting straight to the point as only he can do, he texted back,  "No, I mean the cancer stuff." 

See? That's the thing! I really don't like talking about it because I'm afraid of saying how I really feel. People already have so much on their plate they don't need to hear about my cancer stuff. They don't need to hear that I'm angry as hell that I even have that word attached to my life. They don't need to hear that if I  sneeze more than once paranoia charges in and suddenly I'm thinking about Sepsis or dying. 

I guess the good news is, there's a little anger coming into play now, not just saddness, or worse yet, self pity, but my good ole friend, anger. I'm 73, 74 this year. If I live a few more years that's great; I've already outlived my parents. But...I truly want to do something about that damn cloud overhead. Thank God I live in sunny Arizona.

Take care of yourselves. Whatever that REALLY means. In any case, I'm sending you love. Love for reading this far. Xoxo

Finding Elliot

A weird thing happened the other night. I opened my email to perform my daily ritual of getting rid of spam when suddenly emails from March 18th to the 20th, 2024 popped up. It was from, and to, the same person about her dog Kobe, an Aussie, that she wanted to rehome.  I have no idea how that old email just came forward because I certainly didn't press anything to make it happen. It was out of the blue! The email had pictures of the dog and information on where and when we'd set up a time for a meet and greet. 

For some reason that I can't remember, Kobe's owner canceled our first date. Fair enough! So we scheduled another attempt at our local dog park. When the time came, all three of us, Phil, Enzo and myself piled in the car and off we went.  I was excited and nervous. It was a big deal to start again; to give your heart to another being who you'll eventually lose. Still we happily went. And we waited, and waited, and waited. The scheduled time came and went.  The excitement turned to disapointment, and eventually to the numb acceptance of defeat. Finally, about fifteen minutes after she was supposed to show up,  we received a text saying that there had been a really bad accident on the way in and she'd be hours. Phil checked traffic reports and saw there were no holdups or traffic accidents.  She lied. We left.

 Apparently it wasn't meant to be. That's all we had left. To be or not to be.

Fast forward to Sunday, May 26th, 2024. My friend sent me a photo of a beautiful Aussie who was scheduled to be euthanized at the county shelter the following Wednesday. 

If you've read any of my blogs, you know that the moment I saw "Piggie", (the horrible name they gave him at the shelter) I looked into his begging, desperate,  beautiful blue eyes and fell in love. 

The shelter notes on him said he had been brought in two weeks before by a woman who said he was a stray. And for some uncanny reason, we were able to adopt him, free of charge. That in itself is another, detailed story.

Above is the picture of Elliot being handed over to us at the shelter. Just look at his weary, sad little self. I wondered more than a few times about his past, he was already five. Was he abused? Was he loved? Was he lost? One thing for certain, it didn't take long for him to know that he was safe,  already loved deeply, and about to live his best life eever. And this is our happy boy, Elliot.

And the email that mysteriously popped up about a week ago? The one about Kobe, with pictures of him? Well...here's Kobe:

And again, here's Elliot:

 They're the same dog! But still, my boy's past is a mystery and probably always will be. I'm just elated that he's a part of my heart now. I couldn't be happier that finally, he's home!

I still had the person's email so I shot her a message. "Whatever happened to Kobe?" Of course she didn't reply. But we sure the hell got him chipped as ours!

Broken Pieces

 

Today marks one year since Milo died. One year! There are approximately 300 sunny days in Phoenix. Funny, last year on this day it wasn't sunny and today the sun is nowhere to be seen. My heart still aches as if there is an open cut trying to heal. I still cry, but not everyday anymore, teary eyed, but not full on crying.  The gash in my heart, that painful hole in my heart, will never, ever, heal or totally close. And I dont want it to! Why should I? Each loss in my seventy-three years has taken a part of me, of my heart,  with it. 

Anne Lamott wrote in Traveling Mercies that only grieving can heal grief. I agree, except for this: the root meaning for heal is the Proti-Germanic word khailaz, which means 'to make whole'. Truly it's complicated and somewhat of a paradox. You know, those darn paradoxes that cause you to realize the absurdity of some truth. Kind of like "the only constant is change '.

The shock of losing my boy was so intense; it stopped time for at least twenty-four hours. All I did that day, a year ago, was sit in a  shrouded daze of disbelief!  I'm not too sure how long that lasted because four weeks later,  our Rosco was euthanized. He had the exact same thing as Milo, hemangiosarcoma, but his was a slow bleed. And that darkened my world yet again.

When we got Milo as a playmate for our Tasha, he was about eighteen months old. (He died at twelve snd a half.) He was the prettiest dog we've ever had, or ever seen. And honestly, other than Tasha, he was the most intelligent.  He was a beautiful,  happy dog who adapted well, loved well, and played like there was no tomorrow. 

But tomorrow came. It sickens me with sadness to think about not having his bright, youthful self still with us.

So, to Milo,

My dearest boy Milo,

Mommy loves you....so freaking much. Forever and a day I love you!!! I know you want me to be happy, but it's hard as hell. I believe you sent Elliot to me to ease the pain, and he did to a degree. But no one can take away the pain of losing you. I didn't realize that, apparently,  the older you get as a human, the deeper your love can be, thus, the deeper your pain. 

I love and miss you my boy. I'd love to believe I'll see you again. Maybe I will. I mean, where do all those lost pieces of one's heart go after they're cut out with grief's painful knife??? They have to go somewhere, right? Perhaps they go to a place where, when there are no more pieces left to break, all the broken pieces are automatically put back together. I hope so. 

I love you pretty boy. Know that mommy thinks of you...Every. Single. Day.

Kisses and hugs.

A Vegatarian Diet for My Dogs!?and Heavenly Day

 As a little girl of about six or seven, I remember sitting at our family's formica kitchen table, in a chrome and plastic chair, eating dinner. As usual, meat was on our plates. It was an ugly brown color with a strange texture. The vegetables and potatoes were recognizable, but the brown blob on my plate? Not so much! I don't remember exactly when I learned that the brown blob used to be part of a live animal that was killed and then put in front of me to eat. Even at that age, I knew something was wrong with the whole idea that animals were food. I couldn't verbalize or question adults at the time, but I knew. 

Sitting at that table, I couldn't bear to put the unrecognizable body part in my mouth. As always, our beautiful boxer Taffy, sat under the table, waiting for a morsel to fall so she could gobble it up. Taffy loved all food, whether meat, veggies, fruit,  or the horrible white bread of the 50s. She ate it all with superb joy. 

My mother would tell me that I wouldn't be excused from the dinner table unless I ate the meat. I groaned with disgust! But, I figured out that if I slowly slid the meat from my plate onto the floor while no one was looking,  I'd be excused. And that I did! I'm sure Taffy was ecstatic! Fast forward to now, January 2025. I haven't eaten an animal for almost 40 years, and have excluded animal products from my diet for ten years.

In 2024 I lost my two beautiful Australian Shepherds four weeks apart. Milo and Rosco. And seven months later, our sweet Tasha. 

On January 25th Milo collapsed one morning unexpectedly. The day before, he seemed fine. We rushed him to the vet where they found that a mass behind his spleen had ruptured and he was bleeding internally.  We had to make the horrific decision to have him euthanized.  With lots of research, I found the name for the mass that burst; hemangiosarcoma.  Four weeks later, Rosco died of the same thing. Only his was a slow bleed.  He was euthanized at home. They weren't of the same litter. Tasha, our Pug/Aussie mix died in November of what I believe depression and old age. She was never the same after Milo especially, died. It makes me ill with sadness to think of the deaths of my sweet dogs.  

From the 1950’s until now, cancer has increased at an alarming rate according to the International Agency for Research of Cancer. And those statistics are only about humans.   The Institute for Responsible Technology said a study was done that shows a link of cancer in dogs, to lawn pesticides.  (by IRT News Team | Jan 14, 2020 | News) The cows we kill, the wheat we eat all live on or grow in the soil soaked in pesticides.  And all are linked to the food our dogs and us humans, eat.  My point for the above information is to show factors that cause cancer.  Not just cancer in humans, but also in animals. As I looked long and hard trying to find when cancer was first reported in pets, I found very little. However,  the 1960's dogs and cats were becoming more accepted as a family member. This prompted the beginning treating pets with cancer.

Another fact I want people to think about is how we've totally domesticated, or modified, our furry babies from wolves to submissive, mostly stay at home pets. I hear and read so much about how great a raw meat diet is for our dogs. That could be true if you know exactly where the cow comes from, what it ate, and how it died. All of that information will tell you about toxicity.  Regarding how the animal died to become food is a level of poison itself. Critical thinking skills alone will tell you that injesting another living being's pain and suffering can't be healthy. 

There is a theory called the Web of Energy which suggests that all things are connected. This theory is backed by science. So, if it's true, the energy of an animal who has been tortured,  recieved pain and suffering, even the psychological torture of knowing that it's about to die, will enter the body of humans who injest that animal. 

Back to the fact that most dogs have had their wildness bred out of them for hundreds of years. We know how most domestic dogs are probably 100% dependent on humans, and if we have pets, then we're responsible for their well-being.  It's kind of sad really, knowing that dogs were once independent of humans,  were wild, and only depended on themselves and nature.  Yet that's how humans have screwed up our earth and other living beings . That's also why I clearly question the raw diet, kibble, canned, or any other pocessed food made for dogs. 

 Our pet dogs don't hunt for their food anymore, they wait for humans to feed them. I've been questioning all diets for dogs. And while I've decided to give my dog human grade, mostly organic, food, I also feed them lots of wild caught salmon, free range eggs, ground turkey and freeze dried liver. 

Because I'm a vegan, I looked up  vegatarian and vegan dog diets.  Now I'm questioning whether the meat, fish, organic greek yogurt I feed them, goes against my personal moral ethics. 

Just mentioning removing animal protien from my dog's diet to ANYONE, and I'm immediately shut down.  "Dogs need meat protien! They're carnivores!!!" That's the very firm, dismissive reply I get. It seems taboo to even bring the idea of a vegetarian dog into a conversation. 

When I became a vegetarian almost forty years ago, it wasn't a very popular diet, to say the least. I was viewed as weird and unhealthy.  Most people said the same thing: "You need animal protien, humans are carnivores". It's the exact same thing that's said about a dog's diet today. I'm positive the meat industry is happy that so many humans believe their lies. 

After the death of Milo, we adopted Enzo, our Aussie/Great Pyreneese, he'll be five soon. Four months later, we rescued Elliot, an Aussie, who was on the euthanasia list at the local shelter. He too, is around five. These dogs, especially Elliot because I believe Milo sent him, are tuly the joy of my life. I want to make know I'm doing all that I can to make sure they live long and healthy lives. I have so many regrets about Milo, Rosco and Tasha. So many that I think about at 2am any given night!

I'll be honest, I've wondered if I can give my sweet dogs a vegetarian diet that satisfies their hunger, but also provides them with clean, whole foods. I'm wondering if there's a diet that fills all their nutritional needs without eating dead animals.

I haven't come to any decision, that's for sure, but if you're a person that truly questions, the below is an amazing read. It's from a July 12th, 2024 PUNCH interview with Martha Rosenberg,  author of Big Food, Big Pharma, Big Lies.

"Few Americans realize that the food sold to us – especially meat – is often banned in other countries. For example, the European Union will not import our hormone-saturated meat, which EU medical officials link to breast and prostate cancer. Asian countries reject the growth drug ractopamine, which is endemic in US agriculture because it produces more weight on animals and thus more profit for meat raisers. To retard bacterial growth, chickens here are dipped in chlorine, which has caused other countries to reject our poultry exports. The notorious “pink slime” – which caused an uproar in US ag markets but is still legal – is made by treating ground beef with ammonia puffs to retard the growth of E. Coli. But ammonia is not allowed in many other countries’ food chains. "

With the help of the internet,  many people are figuring things out and trying to eat whole, unprocessed,  organic, cruelty free food. Personally, because of how domesticated dogs are, I believe that what's good for humans is good for dogs. And what's bad for humans is bad for dogs. 

When Covid hit, and thousands of people began to die, scientists were scrambling to find answers. There was a study that involved groups  of vegatarians and vegans. In that study, they found that these groups were more resistant to the virus. When the vaccines came out, those studies stopped.

There has been all kinds of evidence that prove a vegetarian or vegan diet is extremely healthy. So...why not with dogs?

Before you judge me and claim I'm wrong to even question,  just remember, mostly all humans who changed the world began by asking radical questions.

I want what's best for my dogs. I want them to live long lives. Because MY life depends on it.

Patty Griffin wrote this about her dog. Doesn't get much sweeter than that!