Sorry but this is a serious subject. I believe strongly in God. I believe in what the Bible says. I do try not to shove my beliefs down anyone’s throat. But even without believing in God, it does not take an idiot to know that we are responsible for animals not to abuse, use or dominate.
This country was built and raised by men and for every boot print, there was horse hoof prints on one side and dog paw marks on the other.
I worry about a world who thinks making money on dog fights is ok. But these are the same people who listen to music where they call women bitches and hos. So if they are going to be so disrespectful to women, well animals have no chance.
I am currently watching DogTown, and they are still even this much later rehabilitating some of Mike Vick’s dogs. I am completely disgusted that Vick’s team would give him award usually reserved for players who have faced great adversity and overcome it. One recipients mother was murdered when he was a child, and they are going to equate Michael Vick’s greasy greedy poor judgement and poor caring for life with that.
Actually I think it is a bunch of men who want to tell the world to piss off cause we made poor little Mikey quit playing cause he was mean to th doggies. Oh and good lord he was in prison a year or so. And yet many many of his victims, which of course were dogs, but just think if they had of been people, he would be the largest mass murderer and rapist to have ever lived.
What disgusts me even more is Vick has learned NOTHING… read his statement, he does not accept full responsibility whatsoever. And he now wants a dog. I think he should be allowed a stuffed animal but he should never be allowed to own dogs in particular any of the fighting breeds.
Here is his statement: “I’ve had to overcome a lot, more than probably one single individual can bear,” Vick said. “Take a look at what I’ve been through. You ask certain people to walk in my shoes, they probably couldn’t do it. Probably 95 percent of the people in this world – because nobody had to endure what I’ve been through, situations I’ve been put in, situations I’ve placed myself in, decisions that I’ve made – whether they were good or bad.”
Well there was a poem that is so much older than I am but I can remember my mother reading it to me, then reading it myself, then reading it to my daughter and now my grandchildren. I think maybe Michael Vick should read it.
Rags by Edmund Vance Cook
They called him Rags, he was just a cur
But twice on the Western Line,
That little old bunch of faithful fur
Had offered his life for mine.
And all he got was bones and bread
And the leaving of soldiers’ grub,
But he’d give his heart for a pat on the head,
A friendly tickle or rub.
And Rags got home with the regiment,
And then, in the breaking away–,
Well, whether they stole him, or whether he went,
I am not prepared to say.
But we mustered out, some to beer and gruel,
And some to sherry and shad,
And I went back to the Sawbones School,
Where I was an undergrad.
One day they took us budding M.D.’s
To one of those institutes
Where they demonstrate every new disease
By means of bisected brutes.
They had one animal tacked and tied
And slit like a full-dressed fish,
With his vitals pumping away inside
As pleasant as one might wish.
I stopped to look like the rest, of course,
And the beast’s eyes leveled mine;
His short tail thumped with a feeble force,
And he uttered a tender whine.
It was Rags, yes, Rags! who was martyred there,
Who was quartered and crucified,
And he whined that whine which is doggish prayer
And he licked my hand–and died.
And I was no better in part nor whole
Than the gang I was found among,
And his innocent blood was on the soul
Which he blessed with his dying tongue.
Well! I’ve seen men go to courageous death
In the air, on sea, on land!
But only a dog would spend his breath
In a kiss for his murderer’s hand.
And if there’s no heaven for love like that,
For such four-legged fealty–well!
If I have any choice, I tell you flat,
I’ll take my chance in hell.
