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  1. I read a lot about people who claim to have writers block. Personally, I’ve never suffered from it; however I do get easily distracted by various things. When working on my writing and not actually wanting to work on a specific story, I have a trick that I use as a writing exercise. I use a random word generator:

    http://watchout4snakes.com/CreativityTools/RandomWord/RandomWord.aspx

    http://watchout4snakes.com/CreativityTools/RandomWord/RandomWordPlus.aspx

    To find three words, in my case the words that were generated were: Cow, Nightmare, and Chocolate. Now that I have my three words I write. It doesn’t matter what you come up with just as long as you write. Also you’re not writing to come up with the next block buster, this should be FUN. It can be a five minute free writing exercise or go all night. Just write.

    Here is what I came up with:

    “I don’t believe this! You piece of junk!” I kicked the side of my Chevy truck with my boot.

    “Owwwww, damn it!” I hoped up and down grabbed my purse drawing my teeth down in a clenched position.

    “Please oh please work! What?!? No signal?”

    With a heavy sigh I pulled the keys from the ignition and turned back down the dusty road I had just been driving down. “Great.”

    I figured the distance back to the farm house I had passed to be about three miles, if I was lucky. Instinct took over and I began to walk rubbing my hands up and down my shivering arms.

    “Of course this had to happen in Nov-“

    A coyote let fly a mournful solo somewhere off in the shrubby distance. His cry began the flood of night time noise that only a prairie can provide. Insects and rattles abounded everywhere driving my senses crazy. I jumped a little more as the minutes and miles began to stack up.

    “I’m wild and reckless….”

    “Born in Texas, I eat six shooters for my breakfast” It helped to calm the nerves. I gazed out over the prairie stretched out next to me and could just make out the line of an electric fence.

    “I shot a wild Indian, and kilt a wild bear...”

    My mind finally began to wander about the time my stomach began to growl. I dug in my purse nearly coming to a stop until my fingers met with foil. Ah, comfort food. I pulled out the bar and peeled back the foil breaking off a piece of chocolate before stuffing the candy back into my purse. My feet began along my journey once more as I popped the small piece of chocolate into my mouth savoring the sweetness.

    “And I whipped my hinny on a prickly pear woo woo!”

    The chocolate and my favorite tune perked me right up as I continued along my way I didn’t even notice the mulling. I can’t be certain how long I walked along that road oblivious to anything. It seemed like forever and not just three miles. Then the mulling became louder. I looked back toward the fence and noticed several cows, mostly white with patches of black begin to drift closer to the fence. I kept walking glad for the company. The dust churned thick in the air from the beating the cattle’s hooves provided. Every few minutes I looked back to the once barren prairie to see several more cows gathering, almost walking with me.

    I walked on and still saw no sign of the farm house. The chill crept back over my skin forcing my hands to work my arms yet again. My legs stayed somewhat warm due to the walk, but the more I rubbed my arms the cooler they became. Finally, worried that I might have miss calculated I turned in search of my truck. There behind me were black and white Cows. Thick along the road they obscured my view of anything else behind me.

    “What the heck? Where did all of you come from?”

    I turned back to the dusty road ahead of me, but could see nothing but black and white. The mulling became a sea of churning cow voices drilling ever closer to me. I began to back toward the fields but there all I met with were hot wire fencing and more cattle. Wide eyed I was ushered back to the middle of the road surrounded on all sides by these cows!

    I began to panic remembering stories of cowboys being trampled and worse, but these were cows what could they want? The mulling became pitched droning on. My imagination got the better of me; I could almost swear they were saying, “Chocolate… CHOCOLATE...”

    Something pressed against my forehead bringing me jerking upright. I forced my eyes from a sea of black and white to open.

    Fiercely I rubbed my face with my hands before shaking my head to look at them.

    “Ewwwww!! Chocolate?!?” I looked across my littered desk to find that I had once again fallen asleep at my keyboard.

    “What a nightmare!”
  2. As a general rule, I’m no blogger. The types of blog entries I typically post are versions of my writing, usually a piece of a novel or short story. Today I’m writing to tell a different story. I must warn anyone who continues to read this sad entry that the following will be rather graphic and is unfortunately a true tale.

    At nine this morning I sat behind my desk waiting for my first patient to arrive. It had been a typical Monday up to this point. All the slightly off owners of our clinics patients had run rampant calling about worries over various things. In the midst of which I received a call from an owner we’ll call Sally. Sally wanted to bring her dog in today because she was worried about his leg. Understandable enough because Sally’s pet could no longer walk on the limb. A thousand possibilities ran through my head when she told me this. Had Boscoe been hit by a car, stepped on, in a fight? If he had little to no use of the limb that meant we would most likely need an X-Ray. I asked Sally to bring Boscoe into the clinic immediately. She informed me that she couldn’t bring Boscoe in until later that afternoon around three. The appointment was set.

    At two forty five this afternoon Boscoe made his appearance in our clinic for the first and last time. Sally would not bring him into the clinic until every other dog in the clinic had been cleared out. Finally at three fifteen Sally relented and brought Boscoe in. Peeking over the counter I could see this mass of fur bobbing until the front half of the poor dog finally made it around a corner. I bit my lip instinctively as I looked over this dog.

    Boscoe was covered from the neck down in dried black blood. Bile rose in my throat as my brain reacted to the scene before me. Hobbling down the hallway this dog was not only unable to walk, he was missing his front right leg from the shoulder down. I moved to Boscoe immediately picking the dog up nearly cradling him to my chest as we moved into the front exam room. Boscoe was laid onto the scale, a weight and temperature reading were taken, and then I promptly stepped from the room to fetch my Veterinarian. As I was doing this my co-worker was speaking to Sally.

    Upon inspection and a history taken from Sally, we pieced together the last two and a half weeks of Boscoe’s life. Sometime around three weeks ago, Boscoe wandered away from Sally’s farm, not a completely unusual thing for him to do. Sally believed that at sometime in the four days Boscoe was gone his paw was injured possibly in a trap. She bathed the paw in cool water to remove the blood, and then bandaged the paw. Three days went by and Sally removed Boscoe’s bandage finding that the paw had swelled even more, the tissue having died off. Sally awoke the next morning and Boscoe had gnawed the paw nearly completely off. Sally removed the paw. She rebandaged Boscoe’s stump for another three days cleaning and rebandaging. At the end of that day Sally left the bandage off. She did not see Boscoe again for several days. By the time this course of events had played out, Boscoe had self mutilated himself to the point that he only had three inches of his radius and ulna left intact and most of that had no flesh covering them. The tissue around what was left of his arm was completely dead and dying moving progressively up into his shoulder. To even be able to handle poor Boscoe Sally had given him an over dose of anxiety and motion sickness medication, he was basically stoned out of his mind.

    I have been a technician at my Veterinary clinic for nearly five years. In that time I have never seen a more glaring, hideous, sickening case of animal cruelty, and neglect. Sally decided to mercifully euthanize Boscoe. I held his head as he took his last breath slipping into a deep sleep.

    I decided to blog about this because I needed to vent my frustration at an owner who could so carelessly endanger her pet. Someone who had the nerve to ask my co-worker before he dog even took his last breath, if we knew of anyone who had a dog that might need a good home. Too often I see home “quack” jobs where people have googled Veterinary advice off the internet. This went far beyond owner neglect, this woman didn’t even do that much for her dog. She never sought advice, she never treated the dog, she simply bathed him with water.

    I’ve been witness to some sad events in my time at the clinic, but nothing to date has ever touched, angered, or bothered me to the degree that this event did. Thank you for reading…


    - Corbyn :(
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