Man jailed for decapitating cat
I read a story a few months ago about a step-father who, following an argument with his step-children, grabbed their pet goldfish out of its bowl, threw it to the ground and stomped on it. This man was sentenced to one year in prison.
I was so proud of our judicial system for honoring the emotional distress of the children and acknowledging the murder of a family pet, regardless of its size. If a man has no qualms about killing his children's pet in front of them, you have to wonder what he's capable of next time. I think a year in prison, hopefully coupled with therapy, will give him a good amount of time to think about the implications of what he's done. I can't imagine how traumatizing this event was for small children.
I'm not trying to say a fish's life is worth less than a kitten's, and I'm glad this Illinois man was sentenced to two years, but again here, what might this man be capable of next time? Certainly ripping the head off a kitten requires a great deal more strength, determination and apathy. To me, the squeamish factor is so important. When you stomp on a goldfish, it's not pretty, I'm sure. But to tear the head off a live kitten is to see and hear it struggle, and to witness the gruesomeness of a viable little body destroyed. A cat is too close to a human, physically, for this situation not to warrent concern over his sociopathic disregard for the well-being of a helpless animal. Not to mention his girlfriend's emotional state upon witnessing the murder of a kitten.
It's not the "worth" of an animal that should determine a sentence, but the implications of the murder. Is a man who stomps a goldfish to death less of a threat to society than a man who decapitates a kitten? Obviously I can't answer that, but my gut says yes. Or maybe these two men are just at different stages along the continuum of murderous capabilities. Just like Dahmer kept animal carcases and liked to touch dead things, such as roadkill, might this man too be on his way to bigger victims? Maybe that's an unfair comparison considering Dahmer's severe psychological issues...but I still have to wonder.
Would YOU want this guy back out on the streets after two years? I'm just glad I've got indoor cats.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
That's not a roach...
...nope, that's a small mouse.
L came over to my desk today and asked if one of my jobs as an intern was to catch mice. I asked her what she was talking about, and she informed me that there was a mouse stuck on fly paper (but the kind for roaches) in the kitchen and it was still alive.
I went in, and sure enough, there's the tiniest little gray mouse in the death grip of the most vicious glue you can imagine, struggling to get free but clearly losing his moxie and his will to live.
I told them (it was early, there were only about 4 of us in the office at the time) that I'd take care of it, which took them by surprise. Being an ex-rodent owner, I have no problem with the little guys and wanted to see if I could set him free.
Armed with a Bic pen and the fly paper, I marched little Mickey out to the park where I managed successfully to get his tail free, but wasn't having much luck with the rest of him. One side of his face was glued (quite fatally) to the paper, and the eye on the side facing up was bulging out of it's socket, from what looked like terrible exertion.
As I tried to pry his body free, he started squeaking in pain, and it was at that point that I started on his head and realized that he wasn't getting out of this alive.
A man who had been watching me came over and asked what I was doing. (I'm applying for a library card, sir.) "Trying to free this mouse," I responded. "His eye is bulging."
"Yeah, he's dying. Hold that paper still." The man picked up a wooden pole that was lying in the grass and tried to pry him free with that, but the pole was thicker than the mouse was wide, and he was being too forceful.
Mickey started squealing again, this time even louder, and the man told me not to look. I started crying. I knew he was going to kill the mouse before he managed to free it, and here I was holding the fly paper and letting it happen, because I knew that the faster it was over, the better. The man told me that the mouse got free, and that he ran away. When I turned to look, he told me not too.
Clearly Mickey had not run away.
I walked back in to the office and was so clearly shaken that L came over to see if I was alright and asked if I needed anything. I told her no, I was fine, but at this point there were several more people in the office and I was suddenly embarrassed at being in a room full of people who had just seen me cry over a mouse. And for those who didn't get to see the theatrics of my rodent liberation demonstration, V announced to the office later that day that, "Corinne cried over a mouse!" It was all in good fun, and they were sweet to me about it. But it's only the second day, and already I'm known as weird mouse girl.
I also made my first client contact today and you'll be happy to know that it was awful. I never want to get old.
I have class tomorrow which I'm so grateful for. It's so much happier than being in that office. I had to cancel plans with Janey tonight because I was so worn out, but I did get a lot of reading done. I think I really have to go to bed. I haven't slept well because I've been so anxious, but I'm calmer now that I don't have to go to work until Friday.
L came over to my desk today and asked if one of my jobs as an intern was to catch mice. I asked her what she was talking about, and she informed me that there was a mouse stuck on fly paper (but the kind for roaches) in the kitchen and it was still alive.
I went in, and sure enough, there's the tiniest little gray mouse in the death grip of the most vicious glue you can imagine, struggling to get free but clearly losing his moxie and his will to live.
I told them (it was early, there were only about 4 of us in the office at the time) that I'd take care of it, which took them by surprise. Being an ex-rodent owner, I have no problem with the little guys and wanted to see if I could set him free.
Armed with a Bic pen and the fly paper, I marched little Mickey out to the park where I managed successfully to get his tail free, but wasn't having much luck with the rest of him. One side of his face was glued (quite fatally) to the paper, and the eye on the side facing up was bulging out of it's socket, from what looked like terrible exertion.
As I tried to pry his body free, he started squeaking in pain, and it was at that point that I started on his head and realized that he wasn't getting out of this alive.
A man who had been watching me came over and asked what I was doing. (I'm applying for a library card, sir.) "Trying to free this mouse," I responded. "His eye is bulging."
"Yeah, he's dying. Hold that paper still." The man picked up a wooden pole that was lying in the grass and tried to pry him free with that, but the pole was thicker than the mouse was wide, and he was being too forceful.
Mickey started squealing again, this time even louder, and the man told me not to look. I started crying. I knew he was going to kill the mouse before he managed to free it, and here I was holding the fly paper and letting it happen, because I knew that the faster it was over, the better. The man told me that the mouse got free, and that he ran away. When I turned to look, he told me not too.
Clearly Mickey had not run away.
I walked back in to the office and was so clearly shaken that L came over to see if I was alright and asked if I needed anything. I told her no, I was fine, but at this point there were several more people in the office and I was suddenly embarrassed at being in a room full of people who had just seen me cry over a mouse. And for those who didn't get to see the theatrics of my rodent liberation demonstration, V announced to the office later that day that, "Corinne cried over a mouse!" It was all in good fun, and they were sweet to me about it. But it's only the second day, and already I'm known as weird mouse girl.
I also made my first client contact today and you'll be happy to know that it was awful. I never want to get old.
I have class tomorrow which I'm so grateful for. It's so much happier than being in that office. I had to cancel plans with Janey tonight because I was so worn out, but I did get a lot of reading done. I think I really have to go to bed. I haven't slept well because I've been so anxious, but I'm calmer now that I don't have to go to work until Friday.
I survived!
Well, despite the best efforts of the devil, I managed to survive my first day as a case manager for the elderly. Home visits. Wow. It's wild man. I thought it would be my least favorite part of the job, but as it turns out, it's the most fun and certainly the most fascinating. Going into an older person's home is like stepping through the magical door to Narnia. But once I get used to walking into a stranger's home, sitting down at their kitchen table and finding the politest way to ask if they can still bathe themselves, I'm going to rock it out with the old folks. We are going to have some good times together. This might not be so bad after all.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Starting fresh
Tomorrow is my first day of field work, and I'm incredibly nervous and curious and anxious. I haven't started a new job in a new environment with new people in three years. I feel like a little kid on the eve of the first day of school, but the stakes are so much higher. I know this job will yank me right out of my comfort zone the minute I make my first contact with a client. I think what it all comes down to is that I'm scared. It's hard for me to put myself out there with new people, even in an exchange where I have the upper-hand. I don't know what I'm so afraid of, but I can tell without investigating this fear much further that it's completely superficial and irrational.
I have no idea yet what I'll really be doing, but the framework consists of intake, assessment, home visits and the elderly. I met with my supervisor on Friday and was introduced to the staff. The office scares me a little. It's definitely the picture that pops into your head upon hearing the word "non-profit." It's only about two times the size of my apartment, and everything looks at least 10 years out-of-date. Coming from a four-floor, state of the art law office with a view to die for, it's going to be interesting. My office is the conference room. I hope they at least brew coffee. I'm trying to shift my perspective from anxious to excited, but it's not easy. In the end, the people I will deal with in my new office can't be anywhere near as bad as the people at Milberg. Let me rephrase that. I think the people in my new office will be incredibly warm and helpful as I ease into the mix. They are, after all, social workers.
Anyway, the really exciting news is that I applied and interviewed for a position on the Editorial Board of the Journal of Student Social Work, and was accepted! This is something that I wanted so badly, so that I could continue to use my undergrad work as I grew into the social work profession. I never wanted to let my English degree get dusty, and I'm really greatful for the opportunity to combine the two. In a way, I really feel as though Columbia is making up for my lack of love for James Madison. My undergraduate experience was not what I hoped it would be; I didn't get involved much and stuck to my group of friends. (I got a Lizzie and a Moo out of the deal, so it was worth it in the end!) But now I feel like I've finally found my niche, like this is definitely where I'm supposed to be in my life right now. I love what I'm doing, and aside from the financial stress, I'm really happy with the way things are taking shape.
Plus, I just bought a new pair of maroon boots and adorable red Mary Jane type shoes (but without the strap...so not really Mary Jane-ish at all...) for my foray into the school year. Hot.
Time to read about welfare policy until I fall asleep.
I have no idea yet what I'll really be doing, but the framework consists of intake, assessment, home visits and the elderly. I met with my supervisor on Friday and was introduced to the staff. The office scares me a little. It's definitely the picture that pops into your head upon hearing the word "non-profit." It's only about two times the size of my apartment, and everything looks at least 10 years out-of-date. Coming from a four-floor, state of the art law office with a view to die for, it's going to be interesting. My office is the conference room. I hope they at least brew coffee. I'm trying to shift my perspective from anxious to excited, but it's not easy. In the end, the people I will deal with in my new office can't be anywhere near as bad as the people at Milberg. Let me rephrase that. I think the people in my new office will be incredibly warm and helpful as I ease into the mix. They are, after all, social workers.
Anyway, the really exciting news is that I applied and interviewed for a position on the Editorial Board of the Journal of Student Social Work, and was accepted! This is something that I wanted so badly, so that I could continue to use my undergrad work as I grew into the social work profession. I never wanted to let my English degree get dusty, and I'm really greatful for the opportunity to combine the two. In a way, I really feel as though Columbia is making up for my lack of love for James Madison. My undergraduate experience was not what I hoped it would be; I didn't get involved much and stuck to my group of friends. (I got a Lizzie and a Moo out of the deal, so it was worth it in the end!) But now I feel like I've finally found my niche, like this is definitely where I'm supposed to be in my life right now. I love what I'm doing, and aside from the financial stress, I'm really happy with the way things are taking shape.
Plus, I just bought a new pair of maroon boots and adorable red Mary Jane type shoes (but without the strap...so not really Mary Jane-ish at all...) for my foray into the school year. Hot.
Time to read about welfare policy until I fall asleep.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
We live to hear the slack-jawed gasping
I just keep letting the quirks and nuances of daily life slip through the cracks! Which is probably better for y'all. I've been such a blog truant and I'm sorry. I've received several (2) complaints about my lack of blogging so I'll try harder to get shit out of my head and into cyberspace.
After all, I start school full time tomorrow. This is a whole new phase of my life, I might as well record it. I'll be in classes all day Wednesday, and will have fieldwork with the aging population of the UWS on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays, and my fantastic part-time job will fill in the gaps. Thursdays are free!
But let's get back to this part-time job. It couldn't be more suited to me if I invented it myself. I'd pay myself more, but that's a given. It's off the books, and all I do is Trivial Pursuit-type research on Lexis, and then write up all these funky statistics in the form of quizzes and games and fun trivial facts for various types of publications. I get to work from home, in my PJs, and compile useless trivia while sipping coffee and involuntarily (but quite gainfully!) becoming a Trivial Pursuit guru. My official title can be finally and officially be Reclusive Nerd. I couldn't be happier with this gig.
So, I finished The Unbearable Lightness of Being which I admittedly plowed through while pretty baked. It might be the best (or worst) way to read Orwellian post-Communist political and social philosophy. And for fun, I just flipped through the publishing details and discovered that this book was in fact published in 1984. Coincidence? I enjoyed the book until the end when the dog died and I sat in my living room sobbing through 10 pages. That was a rough ending. For a book about unbearable lightness, this one was pretty f'ing tragic.
And I just want to mention, as an aside, that I was like, totally in the audience of the Ellen season premiere in Central Park. My boy Matty picked me up at 9:30 a.m. and we stood and then sat around all day waiting for the taping to start, only to find out that we were being surprised with a second taping! It was a little tiring and pretty dehydrating but so much fun. Ellen is my hero, and we got to see Justin Timberlake and Beyonce perform, so it was totally worth it. I wasn't really into JT or Beyonce before the show, and yet somehow, since then, my iPod brought sexy back. Yeah...
Alright, my brain needs to go rest up for the next two years of knowledge. Peace!
After all, I start school full time tomorrow. This is a whole new phase of my life, I might as well record it. I'll be in classes all day Wednesday, and will have fieldwork with the aging population of the UWS on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays, and my fantastic part-time job will fill in the gaps. Thursdays are free!
But let's get back to this part-time job. It couldn't be more suited to me if I invented it myself. I'd pay myself more, but that's a given. It's off the books, and all I do is Trivial Pursuit-type research on Lexis, and then write up all these funky statistics in the form of quizzes and games and fun trivial facts for various types of publications. I get to work from home, in my PJs, and compile useless trivia while sipping coffee and involuntarily (but quite gainfully!) becoming a Trivial Pursuit guru. My official title can be finally and officially be Reclusive Nerd. I couldn't be happier with this gig.
So, I finished The Unbearable Lightness of Being which I admittedly plowed through while pretty baked. It might be the best (or worst) way to read Orwellian post-Communist political and social philosophy. And for fun, I just flipped through the publishing details and discovered that this book was in fact published in 1984. Coincidence? I enjoyed the book until the end when the dog died and I sat in my living room sobbing through 10 pages. That was a rough ending. For a book about unbearable lightness, this one was pretty f'ing tragic.
And I just want to mention, as an aside, that I was like, totally in the audience of the Ellen season premiere in Central Park. My boy Matty picked me up at 9:30 a.m. and we stood and then sat around all day waiting for the taping to start, only to find out that we were being surprised with a second taping! It was a little tiring and pretty dehydrating but so much fun. Ellen is my hero, and we got to see Justin Timberlake and Beyonce perform, so it was totally worth it. I wasn't really into JT or Beyonce before the show, and yet somehow, since then, my iPod brought sexy back. Yeah...
Alright, my brain needs to go rest up for the next two years of knowledge. Peace!
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