There's Harshness in the Air...

as our lovely Sophie (RIP) would think.

We used to have a gentle and sweet rescue doggie named Sophie.  No doubt abused in her previous life, she was a quivering wreck when we became her forever home.  After much work, she became the most lovely of doggies and had a long and happy life with us.

The one thing she never got over was her fear of loud or contentious voices.  At the first sign of what we came to call "harshness in the air", she would scoot into the bedroom to remove herself from the unpleasantness.  Smart doggie.

After watching the Democratic debate a week or so ago, closely followed by the Republican debate, and witnessing the "harshness in the air", it suddenly occurred to me, a real epiphany of thought, a light bulb moment,  the ultimate "aha" moment, that this whole political process has become so ugly, so harsh, that I didn't want to participate anymore.

I get it. Politics has always had an ugly side.  But in the past, it was usually a somewhat genteel and sophisticated ugliness.  Now, due to the undermining of our social behavior, it resembles a cage match that would make Ronda Rousey look like a pussy cat.  Not to get too far off track here, but what the heck is up with women getting into cages and pounding the stuffing out of each other?  Good grief!

Now couple that up with the bloggers who have already picked their "savior" from the lineup, becoming apoplectic over any of the other people vying for the nomination and their supporters, and the ugliness factor goes up by 110%.

It is no longer possible to believe anything you read.  Comboxes have devolved into insult contests where people have become poo-flingers instead of commenters with something intelligent to say.  How many of these commenters are real and how many of them are paid to fling poo?

As part of the awakening, it also occurred that I don't have any real influence over the primaries.  I don't live in Iowa, New Hampshire, or South Carolina.  I also don't have any influence over you or anyone else, either.  Nor should I.  It is for that reason I have not endorsed anyone for president.  Besides, who really gives a rat's rear patootie who I like or don't like? 

When this horribly long and slogging primary season is finally over, and we have a nominee for president, he will get my vote.

Even though I no longer believe that my vote counts, it doesn't mean I won't vote.  It's really the only choice we have.  It's as simple as that.

In the meantime, I will be distancing myself from the harshness in the air.




Help Needed:

Frequent commenter, CassandraBird,  and friend to this blog (who has become a personal friend) is in need of help.

I was a live-in care giver for this gentle kind man for over ten years. He loved walking his dogs, sports and music - o my his music! Sadly he passed away yesterday of complications of Muscular Dystrophy. He was only 61.

When I came home from the hospital after he passed my cell phone was going crazy, the dogs were worried and I was exhausted and in despair.  I went to the kitchen to feed the girls and I discovered the refrigerator was dead. Black and warm.

I fear that we could end up with no home.  I literally have no money. My three girls and I could easily be on the streets. Asking for help is very hard for me but it seems there is no other option.

Any and all help is greatly appreciated.

Thank you in advance

Cassandra's Go Fund Me Page

Sophie

I'm sorry for having not gotten to the comments and for anyone who had to endure reading anything my troll posted for the two days I did not have comment moderation turned on.  There are some very sick people in this world. 

This afternoon Sophie joined her best friend Elle.   She had a long and wonderful life.  We will miss her.

Reprint from an earlier post:

Sophia, called Sophie by her friends, is my husband's dog. We rescued her from the Humane Society just before her date of execution. Sophie had been abandoned on the side of the road, along with her puppies, in the Silver Valley of North Idaho.

We had been calling the shelter every day for weeks waiting for a smaller dog to come in and be made available for adoption. One day I called and the young lady described in glowing details this wonderful little gold dog. I turned to Harold and said, "Quick, get your coat and lets go, it sounds like your dog."

When we arrived they brought Sophie out and she took one look at Harold and displayed the most amazing set of teeth. Folks, she wasn't smiling.

"Ummm, there were a few things we didn't mention on the phone" said the perky little girl.

No kidding.

This poor little dog had probably been abused, and as a result, was terrified of everyone. She was deemed un-adoptable by the shelter, but the girls working there fell in love with her and kept trying to pawn her off on someone.

After observing her from across the room for about 30 minutes I was getting a bit impatient with the whole thing. I told my husband to sit down, marched across the room, told Sophie we were tired of this nonsense, and took her and pounced her into Harold's lap and promptly fled. Sophie, frozen in fear, looked around, sighed deeply, and laid her head on Harold's arm. It's been there for over 17 years.

Butt Buddies

Elle and Sophie doing what they do best...