Yesterday started off pretty sweet. I dragged my ass out of bed at 9.30 to go volunteer at this animal shelter way out in Seguin. Clare went with me, and I got her to drive the hour and a half into the heart of the Texas brush, where this place was tucked off a dirt road. We rode windows down, sunroof open, Pinkerton blaring; and there were just enough clouds in the sky to make it sunny yet cool. The bluebonnets and red Indian paintbrushes were in bloom off the rural highways, and all the small towns offered plenty of stuff to laugh at (like the Zorn Bowling Club or a mariachi band called the Best Friends playing the Geronimo city-wide yard sale). I hate driving, but I enjoy road trips, especially when I'm in the car with someone who won't mind when I sing loud and off-key.
Once at the shelter, there was really nothing for us to do. Quite a few people had shown up for the 9.00 a.m. shift, which amazed me. By noon, they had already done all the heavy unloading (a 20,000-lb. half order of dog and cat food), so all Clare and I could do was give treats to and pet the animals. The place itself is set on a giant parcel of land, about a quarter mile off the dirt road. The bulk of the shelter is made up of a series of connected wire pens, about 30 feet by 30 feet, that hold probably close to 100 of the more agressive dogs. All the pens are situated around a big open staging area with some benches, trees, hoses, and a refrigerator (to hold cold bottles of water). There are two large pens at the back of this area where they keep the general scruff of the dog population--all different sizes, breeds, and personalities. The 60 or so dogs from these pens are allowed to roam free about the open area during the day, acting much like middle-school boys. They lounge on the picnic tables or in the tall grass under the trees; they swim in the goldfish pond; they roam around in small packs looking for holes in the wire fence; they harass the goats. The goats and the donkey have their own pen to the right of the mongrel pens, and next to them is the giant pig (appropriately wallowing in mud), whom I nicknamed Napoleon. Once Clare and I had finished our doggy duties of distributing a few rawhide bones and a couple boxes of Scooby Snacks, we gravitated toward the cat cage. This is a big wire room, ceiling and all, behind the fridge area that housed at least 50 cats, most of them lethargic in the midday heat. We spent the bulk of our day simply sitting on the ground donating our affection to the less skittish cats; I also took some pictures of the animals so I'd have something tangible to donate to the shelter in lieu of actual labor. One particularly persistent cat had a respiratory infection that I could hear every time he breathed or tried to meow. His pupils were completely dilated and I wondered if he might also be part blind. Clare and I both picked out the cats we'd take home if we could (mine was a calico with sea-green eyes and a playful and affectionate temperment). In the end, I was a little hacked off that the shelter had scheduled more shifts than they'd needed, but I still had a great time. It's sad that our shelters are this full, and that they have to keep their addresses secret because there are so many more animals that people are looking to abandon.
The drive back was just as nice as the drive there, and it included a pit stop at the new Luby's buffet--all-you-can-eat-baked-fish heaven. Clare and I bitched about politics and relationships (or lack thereof) and I played my DJ Spooky CD for her. Couldn't ask for much more from the first eight hours of the day.
Julie and Cori had some people over to watch the Final Four at their place, which, while fun, ended up being a big downer when the Longhorns played only an average game against a Syracuse team playing out of their minds. Hanging out at their place is always a bit strange for me, since I'd like to sleep with both of them. Julie seems to get more attractive the more I see her, and even though I realize our personalities are probably different in the wrong ways to work, it's still a bit of an ego-blow to know that I couldn't keep her interested in me. On the other hand, I think Cori and I would get along great, so it hacks me off to have to sit there and watch her and Franklin always snipping at each other. There are, of course, moments of affection, but in group settings like that, they're either arguing about what law school Cori should go to or Cori's telling Franklin to stop making asinine comments. She rolls her eyes about him a lot, I've noticed, and I wonder what keeps people like them together at this point, knowing that they won't stay together when they have to go to different grad schools. Probably just convenience.
The night ended on an even shittier note when we sought out parties in west campus. At least I got to hang out with Grady, Benavides, and Montalvo some. Unfortunately, it's rare to have all of them in the same place. We had some fun together, but the whole frat scene just makes me churlish--the beer that smells like vomit, the wristbands and entry-lists, the impersonality, and the frustration I feel at never being able to feel confident around girls like that. After trooping around, not finding anything much fun or anyone very friendly, all the booze caught up to me and made my head swim. The booze combined with the atmosphere also brought out a prickish obstinance in me and a bit of bitterness. After riding in such high spirits during the day, I was disappointed at where I'd let myself end up.
Once at the shelter, there was really nothing for us to do. Quite a few people had shown up for the 9.00 a.m. shift, which amazed me. By noon, they had already done all the heavy unloading (a 20,000-lb. half order of dog and cat food), so all Clare and I could do was give treats to and pet the animals. The place itself is set on a giant parcel of land, about a quarter mile off the dirt road. The bulk of the shelter is made up of a series of connected wire pens, about 30 feet by 30 feet, that hold probably close to 100 of the more agressive dogs. All the pens are situated around a big open staging area with some benches, trees, hoses, and a refrigerator (to hold cold bottles of water). There are two large pens at the back of this area where they keep the general scruff of the dog population--all different sizes, breeds, and personalities. The 60 or so dogs from these pens are allowed to roam free about the open area during the day, acting much like middle-school boys. They lounge on the picnic tables or in the tall grass under the trees; they swim in the goldfish pond; they roam around in small packs looking for holes in the wire fence; they harass the goats. The goats and the donkey have their own pen to the right of the mongrel pens, and next to them is the giant pig (appropriately wallowing in mud), whom I nicknamed Napoleon. Once Clare and I had finished our doggy duties of distributing a few rawhide bones and a couple boxes of Scooby Snacks, we gravitated toward the cat cage. This is a big wire room, ceiling and all, behind the fridge area that housed at least 50 cats, most of them lethargic in the midday heat. We spent the bulk of our day simply sitting on the ground donating our affection to the less skittish cats; I also took some pictures of the animals so I'd have something tangible to donate to the shelter in lieu of actual labor. One particularly persistent cat had a respiratory infection that I could hear every time he breathed or tried to meow. His pupils were completely dilated and I wondered if he might also be part blind. Clare and I both picked out the cats we'd take home if we could (mine was a calico with sea-green eyes and a playful and affectionate temperment). In the end, I was a little hacked off that the shelter had scheduled more shifts than they'd needed, but I still had a great time. It's sad that our shelters are this full, and that they have to keep their addresses secret because there are so many more animals that people are looking to abandon.
The drive back was just as nice as the drive there, and it included a pit stop at the new Luby's buffet--all-you-can-eat-baked-fish heaven. Clare and I bitched about politics and relationships (or lack thereof) and I played my DJ Spooky CD for her. Couldn't ask for much more from the first eight hours of the day.
Julie and Cori had some people over to watch the Final Four at their place, which, while fun, ended up being a big downer when the Longhorns played only an average game against a Syracuse team playing out of their minds. Hanging out at their place is always a bit strange for me, since I'd like to sleep with both of them. Julie seems to get more attractive the more I see her, and even though I realize our personalities are probably different in the wrong ways to work, it's still a bit of an ego-blow to know that I couldn't keep her interested in me. On the other hand, I think Cori and I would get along great, so it hacks me off to have to sit there and watch her and Franklin always snipping at each other. There are, of course, moments of affection, but in group settings like that, they're either arguing about what law school Cori should go to or Cori's telling Franklin to stop making asinine comments. She rolls her eyes about him a lot, I've noticed, and I wonder what keeps people like them together at this point, knowing that they won't stay together when they have to go to different grad schools. Probably just convenience.
The night ended on an even shittier note when we sought out parties in west campus. At least I got to hang out with Grady, Benavides, and Montalvo some. Unfortunately, it's rare to have all of them in the same place. We had some fun together, but the whole frat scene just makes me churlish--the beer that smells like vomit, the wristbands and entry-lists, the impersonality, and the frustration I feel at never being able to feel confident around girls like that. After trooping around, not finding anything much fun or anyone very friendly, all the booze caught up to me and made my head swim. The booze combined with the atmosphere also brought out a prickish obstinance in me and a bit of bitterness. After riding in such high spirits during the day, I was disappointed at where I'd let myself end up.
posted by Matt at 1:23 PM
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