Exploring the Human Condition: altered states of consciousness

Posts tagged ‘Cat’

The Legend of Riggie Roo

If only kitties, they could talk,
the stories they would tell…
Of all the battles, fought and won,
and all the foes that fell.

The bravest one of all, they say,
was the Mighty Riggie Roo!
For any friend, he’d come to fight!
His heart was brave and true.

Then one dark day, while Riggie slept,
coyotes did attack.
They circled quickly, savage beasts,
and bit him in the back.

Though badly hurt, he stood his ground,
and fought them all away.
Four days it took, to make it home,
his last goodbyes to say.

Some people say when sadness strikes,
the Angels will fly down,
and help the ones that need it most…
when no one is around…

The Mrs. Man prayed long and hard
for them to stop his pain.
She held him close and called his name,
her tears fell down like rain.

His lifelong friends all gathered ’round,
they feared the end was near.
And though he struggled hard to stay,
his last cries they were to hear.

Though days have passed and he is gone,
the kitties still tell the tale,
of the Mighty Warrior, brave and true,
a friend who’d never fail.

His family is sad, they miss him bad,
he seems so far away…
Though in the end, they lost their friend,
in their hearts, he will always stay!

In Loving Memory of Riggie
aka Tiggie Riggie Roo
January 1990 – October 22, 1997

We don't forget...  we still love you very much!

We don’t forget… we still love you very much!


I’ve been up all night, calling in every favor and editors and lawyers aren’t always real responsive when it comes to animal rights, activism or reform or rocking boats in general.

I am a native Texan. And a lot of what is said about “us” is true. The bad stuff. The stereotypes. The beef-killing-eating cowboy Cadillac driving monsters like Rick Bartlett and his wife Tina Bartlett. Yes, they are real people and they live in Bastrop County, Texas. The man is/was some sort of self-professed Christian “preacher.”

So come after me, whatever, I’ve got nothing you can take and I do not scare easily. To my friends and faithful followers, I am begging you, my often far too kind readers, to please, read this, re-blog it, do whatever you can to splash it all over the place. I’m getting doors slammed right and left, being left on hold already, re-directed to voice mails. It’s going to be a long haul on this one.

So here’s the whole terrible story, in short form. Details are sketchy for me, as this is my first knowledge of this story. And it should be a BIG story. A HUGE NATIONAL Story to expose once and for all the corruption in small-town Texas governments like Bastrop County, the cover-ups, the good old boy games, and this monster called preacher of God. That’s the real rub. It mixes up animal abuse, torture, purposeful and willful mal intent, to a neighbor’s pet cat over a period of days before finally throwing it off a 50 foot plus bridge over the Colorado River. I cannot begin to tell you of what this so-called man did to this poor cat. I cannot even think of it, it bends me into places I cannot bear. Yes, it was just a cat. But it goes deeper than that even. Sure I want Animal Activists, real ones, that mean business, people who support Anonymous because there HAS to be REFORM, people like Animal Liberation Front that sometimes are controversial in nature as are all those who stand up to repression, corruption, cruelty and injustice, whether against man or beast, great or small.

On Facebook, you can read about Moody the Cat on the page of Audie Voorhies. I have quite a bit of information on this story also, that I am going to try to get here on the blog as well. I think the nation, our America, might like to see first-hand what it’s like to live in a backwards, totally non-progressive state, except for Austin, where in a county such as Bastrop County, the depravity knows no bounds really, truth be told. It’s hell out there all over. I know that. But I won’t be found wandering the country roads alone anymore, dogs or not. Nope, not anymore. It’s just not that kind of world anymore. That’s all gone. And I don’t run too fast anymore – lol.

Back to business. For over a year and don’t hold me to exacts, as I am not quoting anybody, I am not a journalist and my journalist friends are “unable” to cover anything out of their immediate “area.” Anyway, I know the real reason for that. Politics. Money. Pull. Clout. Who’s the top dog and who ain’t. All the papers are affiliated around here in one way or other, owned by the same corporation. Until you get to the Austin rags, and we will just have to see about that. I am working on calling them this afternoon. Third round assault. I am asking here for help in an URGENT way!!! Whoever you are, wherever you are, if you can write, or reblog, or share on another social site, or have friends you can email, or if you are one of those special people with intellect and connections that knows a good story when they see one, this is it Baby!!! This one should be told, in whatever sensational form it may take, that doesn’t matter. Just having it exposed on whatever level will be enough, I think.

This man, this “preacher” has never had anything happen more than his church asked him to step down, move out, leave… Well, this guy just goes next door, rents another building, and starts a NEW CHRISTIAN CHURCH! I’m so serious I could just gag. And this man has friends. He is what we call down here one of “the good ole boys” – it’s like a sort of cowboy club of macho beef-eating rednecks that are made mostly of the residue of toxic chemicals fed to the animals they breed for slaughter, and the anger that fuels their hearts must surely come from the terror and the pain they caused these poor animals while they were being slaughtered. Welcome to Texas, folks. It’s that bad. Sorry, neighbors, but wake up and smell the dysfunction, and that’s putting it as nicely as I possibly can at this point.

Until there is attention focused squarely on the problem, awareness brought to light, only then will something change. I do a lot of networking now for animal rescues, primarily for horses, equine of any sort and for dogs. Unwanted animals. If I wasn’t mostly sane, I would be a crazy cat lady, and that could still happen… hehe But right now, I will do whatever it is I can do. Where is ABC, NBC, how do you get a hold of these people, their staff, I keep hitting dead-ends, slammed doors and re-directs to voice mail boxes… And I’m still in my own neck of the woods, I haven’t even tried to go national yet. This is my first attempt. I am not a computer whiz kid. I am 59 years old on a new Dell Windows 8 which I love, but I’m clumsy at best, so anything that I actually do right is a miracle. I know there are whiz kids out there that can run rings around me with this sort of thing. I’m going to them to.. Gotta long list.

Moody the cat was just a family pet, a cat like you might see anywhere, with any family. He was a ginger tabby, American shorthair, round face, short pointed ears, stripes, and little brown spots on his nose. Believe it or not, each type/color of cat has a very specific personality. And Ginger Tabby Cats like Moody, and I’ve only ever seen males, they are the most gentle, kind, affectionate, tails up always, knows no enemy kind of happy loveable cat you could ever see. Ask any cat person and they will tell you the same thing. Like calicos are almost always female and they always have major attitude, for example. But a cat like Moody, he was a baby, a family loved him like he was family, not just a pet, and one sad day, as cats are prone to do, he innocently walked into the neighbor’s back yard, whereby the owner/preacher snatches him up, puts him in some sort of cage, and life would never be the same for poor little Moody. His family was right next door and they couldn’t find him for days. They had no idea he was maybe even feet away, locked inside a cage, without food or water for days, while this person proceeded to torture him without mercy. There’s all the vet reports, all the evidence, but since I just found out about it, I don’t really have time to trace down every single fact and verify it, all I can do is try to get word out that this man has walked away from this crime for over a year, the court system here has delayed adjudication over and over, and now, at last there is the pre-trial on May 9, and trial on May 13th. Bastrop County Courthouse, Second Floor, Judge Eschew’s Courtroom, Bastrop, Texas, just east of Austin down 71 about 40 miles. South of me in Elgin only 16 miles.

Why is this such a big deal??? Cause you’ve got animal abuse, government corruption, good old boy redneck mentality, Christian hypocrisy, deceit of the worst sort rampant in some churches, these “preachers” get rich and live high on the hog, doing what they do. Precious scared little people will grasp at any possible answer, even if it is fake, bogus and even evil to the core. There are so many drugged up, doped up, dumbed down commuter drones from this county I speak of, that most of them won’t care, or even give it a second thought. Hell, they can’t afford to go to the dentist, or to pay for gasoline anymore, or keep up the maintenance on their poorly made fake McMansions. Who cares about some bogus preacher who mutilated an innocent family pet for days and the law enforcement officers didn’t stop it. He actually took the poor thing to the Sheriff’s Facility, the “new” Jail, and asked what to do with it after he had tortured it, starved it nearly to death, still locked in his cage. Evidently he was then directed to the local kill shelter, which would sound reasonable, as at least the poor thing would have gotten some help at that point. But no… This devil, this monster beyond imagination, just drove in the opposite direction to the big old bridge that crosses the Colorado right there in downtown Bastrop, and he opened Moody’s cage right there up on that bridge, and then he shook and rattled it so hard that poor mutilated and bloody Moody made a final leap for freedom and ended up falling straight down 50 feet to the river below.

Moody’s been dead now for over a year I think. Remember the trial is next week. There are a handful of women who are working on the “Justice for Moody” case, but they have all asked for me to omit their names. I think the whole world and all Americans might really be interested to know about Moody’s story, and about what has been done about it. I think more people should find out about the upcoming trial. More people should show up. Just come and be there. Let the world and the Nation see that not all Texans are stupid, or rude, and that when such a terrible thing is hidden from the public, brushed aside, and local papers and editors are told to leave it alone, a few ornery old hippie girls and animal lovers refuse to sit still for that kind of cowardly and disgustingly sick complacency. We’re not all drug addicts, driven by poverty to crime. Some of us are quite clean, actually, very alert and very aware, and ready to lend a hand in any way possible to bring a Very Bright Spotlight right down into this Judge’s courtroom, with the latest news being that the standing Judge who has handled the case up to now has suddenly been excused right before trial. So I’m wondering why it’s been so hushed up, why the wheels that turn took so long to the point where they were literally forced to set a trial, just to get it over with… evidently.

So I’m going to my list of Austin Media next, and let’s see where that gets us. Thank you for reading this, as I am not on my game at all presently, for several good reasons, but it will not stop me from pouring another strong cup of coffee, and trying again. National attention folks. That is the Mission. Come on down to Texas before it turns into Summer Hell on Earth. Do it for a little pet cat named Moody who did not deserve to be tortured to death. Oh yeah… the end of his story.

Here’s where I’m a bit sketchy, but this is what I believe I read that happened after Moody went flying over that huge bridge. I don’t know what time of day this happened, or if anyone actually witnessed the preacher man commit his final act of hate, anger and abuse. But somehow, little Moody lived through the impact of the fall, although the examining vet said he ultimately died from excessive blunt force trauma to his lungs, most likely from the fall. I just can’t bear to repeat the rest of the report on Moody’s body. I just can’t.

Somehow, Moody, the ginger tigger cat managed to drag his beaten and tortured little body out of the river where he had fallen, up onto the beautiful concrete River Walk, so pretty there under the bridge in Bastrop. The trees are so beautiful there. Some person or people saw him, and gathered him up and took him straight to the vet’s office. But there was nothing they could do for him by then. I just hope the doctor was able to stop his suffering quickly. For someone such as myself, this sort of thing twists my guts into a knot and my heart can hardly keep a straight beat. Just now my co-worker on this case called and told me that as soon as the Vet got Moody in the office, they called the family that lost him and they were somehow able to drive to the other side of town where the vet’s office is, in time to say goodbye to poor Moody.

So this story of Moody is very close to my heart. Hanny, you are a great writer, Clotilda, you are brilliant beyond compare. Melody, you fight for donkeys and education of people for the benefit of equine every moment of every day of your life… Re-post this for me honey, up in Oregon. Diana in Washington State, re-post this please. Alicia in Rhode Island, please share or post wherever you think it will get some attention. And Gina, Jonathan, and so many other people I love to read, I know it’s just a cat. But it’s really a lot more than that at stake.

I’m asking anyone who will jump on board, to tell anyone, tame or radical activist, legal expert or regular person with connections, anybody that cares about justice and the prevention of cruelty to animals, to make some noise. Make some calls. Rattle some cages… just please do it. You guys know what to do. And I will keep trying to get more info posted here on my blogs, so use it. Give it. Provide details. This could make such a difference in the lives of animals all over America, if they see a real out-pouring of angry people hungry for justice in a forgotten place that gets away with murder. Literally.

As much as I am sure there are good Christian people, true to their faith and their God, I also personally call it the “political church” and I will not participate, no matter how much I might miss seeing some of the people, the kids and the old ones… I won’t go back. It’s a money game and that’s not how I worship my Creator. But I’m just using the Christian angle to bring attention to the real story, the real issues here. It doesn’t matter what sort of man did this, it only matters that he did. And a perfectly innocent family will never be the same again, ever.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you if you also research it. Thank you if you help me get all the articles, pics, etc. embedded into these pages… Thank you if you are somebody of character and influence and you decide to pick up the phone and make some calls. Please Mr. Eideard, you can take this to a level I cannot… please give this some of your time, I beg you. Thank you if you are a media person and somehow you manage to see this and you decide that yeah, it’s a good story. Get down to this little po-dunk town this week, be here for the trial. I already know a lot of seriously strong-bodied and very upset gentlemen that fight for the rights of animals every day of their lives, and they are coming. I sincerely hope that hell rains down on Mr. Rick Bartlett, of Bastrop, Texas, like nothing he ever imagined, as he sits up there so complacent and self-satisfied with himself, like some rich bogus holy man. And I hope Tina Bartlett, his wife, never has another decent night’s sleep in her pathetic useless life. I can be a real beotch and this is one of those times. I’ve just begun to fight for right in this case. I hope you will join and help me. Anyone that needs a place to crash during the trial is more than welcome to stay at my home, Tristan, Hannah, Michell, all you guys and more, please come down and help me help remember Moody. That he did not die without the world knowing his story, and now we await the outcome, finally. When this monster who calls himself a preacher, who has access to little children, for God’s sake, this man should be brought to his knees and much much worse. And from what I am getting on this end, the adjudicators and the media has been told to shut-up. Gagged. So I’m off to start calling Austin Media now. Let’s see if the city I brag about all the time really is worthy of my high-esteem and respect. I am counting on all of you, ALL of you. Jump in here and help me shine some light down on a very ugly situation and get ready to see a very emotional and highly volatile courtroom situation unfold. Or not. Maybe the new substitute (?) Judge will deliver the “fine” and that will be that. But if you read the articles and see the pictures, you will be just like me. You will not rest until you’ve done what you can. In a world of wars, and strife, hunger, disease, drones, bombings, shootings and untold horrors of our society, one might wonder what’s all the big deal over the death of one cat. I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me. Maybe the issues at hand are really a lot bigger than that, and Moody was only God’s way to expose it all. God Bless You Moody, the orange tabby cat. May you sit on soft pillows again with little children to dress you in funny hats and bundle you in pink blankets, and may you remember your last sight of the beautiful river trees, and nothing more of it, ever. May you sleep quietly and in pure bliss and joy in the laps of the Angels, who I pray will give me the strength and the wisdom to keep going, to do what I know needs to be done. See you at the Courthouse. Or call me anytime. Cissy in Tejas… but maybe not for much longer… Washington state and Colorado are looking a lot more like where I want to load up and start heading down the highway towards. But first I have a little business to finish concerning some seriously messed up gentlemen that are about to find out what one poor older white woman can do. Thank you and God bless all the creatures, great and small.

Ginger Cats and Witches

There’s always a fine line, and people will always show it to you, dare you try to cross it.  But I think that line must totally depend on perspective, as in which pair of glasses you happen to be looking through at the time.

When I was just a very small child, movies that came on television were a very big deal!  Not silent movies, okay?  But nothing even close to Resident Evil or Ice Cube’s Friday Night.  I’m talking about the early 1960’s.

When you’re little, you don’t understand the many complexities of human emotion, you just know what you know.  But the first time something moves you, the first time something brand new gets the little wheels upstairs turning, I believe it is life-changing, whether you realize it later or not.

“Thomasina,” who was indeed a real cat, and a beautiful lady with flaxen red hair, take the lead, and the village folk called her a witch, so of course all the children did too.

She lived in a cabin tucked far away in the woods, at the back of a beautiful meadow, where one entire long room of her home was filled with boxes and cages, and there was a table with her supplies.  This “witch” had herbs hanging from string all around, interesting bottles and brews, which she used to minister to the wounded, sick and displaced animals of the forest.  There were numerous wild critters all hanging around, squawking and making a racket.

One day when she was out in the meadow, gathering wildflowers and other plants if you will, she happened across a stone pillar of sorts, the top of which was covered by a small piece of blanket.  As she lifted up the blanket to look inside, there lay a beautiful ginger cat, presumed to be dead, and thusly laid to her final rest.

She reaches in, to check, of course, and sure enough, the animal was not dead at all.  She was breathing.  So the beautiful young lady (crazy old hermit of a witch) retrieved the poor feline into her basket and away to the house they did flee.

Well, as kids will do, these adorable red-haired children returned to the scene of the crime… (who knows what they were doing) but they find that poor Thomasina has gone missing and they are confounded.  Shocked.

This was so many years ago, and without watching it again, they somehow happened upon the witch’s cabin and saw her in the infirmary, sleeves rolled up, sweat on her brow, tending some unfortunate bird’s wing.  Being a witch of course, she knew they were there, and the short version is that the children finally got to meet the hideous vile creature of a witch, that lived alone like a hermit in the meadow, in a cabin with only candles, and pitchers with bowls to clean in.  And surprise! They liked her very much.  Especially when she revealed the slowly improving Thomasina, to their bright and shining eyes.

At some point in the movie, the repugnant witch was no longer, and in her place stood the authentic and true image of a pleasant and kind young woman, who took care of herself and any and every animal that might end up on her doorstep.

We may never know why the lovely and skilled Mistress of the Meadow chose to live by herself, far from the prying eyes of the staunch conservatives in the village.  But I think it is pretty clear.  She was a free spirit, of generous heart, who lived life on her terms, regardless of harsh scrutiny and condemnation.

Right then, and right there, I related to this person, and everything about her obsessed me and guided my tiny little brain.  Not my mother, nor my father, but a character in a Disney movie, showed me what love is and could be.  For the first time I saw persecution and prejudice, and the harm it can do.  But I also saw a woman, alone, simply retreat back to her cabin, with not so much as a “bite me” towards the old women of the village who would seek to cause her harm.

Of course, this also being my very first “romantic” film, the story ends with the pretty girl falling in love with the children’s father and totally transforming the guy from a sad and unreachable parent, to a calm and very happy fellow, if memory does serve me right.

So, back to that fine line.  We all need companionship, no doubt about it.  I would even venture to say that even the most vindictive of women probably has some old man stationed at her table, throwing down the days’ offering of porridge and artisan bread.  And if we are lucky enough to find a partner in this life, I would say “enjoy it while you can.”  Because that’s about how life can go, “one minute you’re here… ” and well, you know….

I am often paused to study people, and sometimes I too wish I had the “social” gene.  I love to visit, especially with older folks, and very young children.  But put me in a room with “normal” adults, and I will sink into the background, and find some unsuspecting feline, and give her the attention of her life.  And this exact thing has happened too many times for me to count, sadly…

I used to think it was such a very sad state of affairs I was in.  No children, no husband, (he left when he hit the mid-life re-evaluation thingy)…  yet luckily, there was one thing that fired up my passion and motivation, and that was to take care of the pets and myself, and to reclaim and secure the “Deed” to my property.  To make money, I could type and I could clean.

Today, there’s an old funky witch, that lives at the back of 4 tree-covered acres, and she is surrounded by nosey neighbors and nare do wells, not even a hint of a wave at the mailbox, no fruitcakes at Christmas.  I’ve taken in many sad little orphans, left sitting by my gate.  I’ve made some mistakes with them along the way, but by and large, my efforts and good intentions brought love and happiness into my life, and theirs, and my little farm transformed with the years, into an amazing and safe sanctuary, despite the obstacles, which in many cases, felt almost crippling.

I think most people respect the line.  And they usually stay on their side of it.  But me, I like to cross the line, any time I get the opportunity.  Shake things up, a “boat-rocker.”  During my struggle to survive, I am sure I upset many a pinched-mouth inflexible elder, but it’s not those people I really want to think about.  I like to think about the nice people, who didn’t make fun of me, the ones that didn’t see divorce and turn away.  I am devoted to the few that remained available to me and gave me time when I needed it.

So the happy ending here is obvious.  Maybe the moral of the story is, follow your own dreams, never give up, or, don’t let your unsupervised neglected children watch weird movies.  They just don’t make ’em like they used to!

Within You and Without You

There is much that can be said about being humble.  To be in this way does not mean to be weak.  Quite the contrary is true.  When one is truly humble, they have come full circle, and out the other side.  This state can be a result of touching upon enlightenment.  You are forced to step back away from yourself to see with your mind. 

We are always processing information around us.  Long ago having embraced the hologram theory, repetition and practice explain common human behaviors, which create order out of chaos and art from simple craftsmanship.  Once we grasp the bigger picture and embrace it, the sooner we find the comfortable ability to become humble. Our work begins to attract the attention of others, who can admire the effort, and there is a connection of human understanding. 

Suddenly our passions become our breath.  We no longer have to search for energy, our mind transcends the place where bodily aches and pains reside, and we achieve a shift in perspective, if you will, an altered state of consciousness, that will bring quiet contentment with the rewards of our hard work and achievements.  We have something to share.

It is impossible not to fear the end of time as it appears to be predicted right over the horizon in every modern back to ancient text, for our immediate future.  It all seems to be backed up by considerably more earth shattering events globally.  We now can receive news of natural disasters and their devastating human tragedies almost daily.  There is an intensity that seems to be building.

Clearly, as can be seen by numerous unexplained phenomena evidenced since early pioneer days here in the States, and across the pond due to the age and relatively small area of Britain and surrounding… other unseen dimensions apparently exist, not unlike a hologram might.  Through the ages, man has struggled being very primitive in his ability to explain and reconcile all things magic.  My Lord can smile with affection at my most primal word for that which cannot be seen by human eyes.  But try and deny that it can be felt, its effects cannot be witnessed, when energy and space are all that we are. 

Today I am humble unto myself.  I am awed and inspired by the spirit and intellect of the good men around me.  I am nurtured and improved by the hearts of good women who put word and deed to their causes.  The hero that exists in all of us is very quiet.  He does not jump to defend his personal opinions, he is calm, forgiving, and humble, in the face of his own great intellect. 


There is great beauty in everything.  To open our eyes and see every day opens up endless possibility.  But to open our minds as well, to embrace love and magic, is to be very humble indeed.  The rewards are endless.  The joy and peace within can finally shine outward.  🙂

Caio, and have a good week!  CissyBlue in Texas

Tag Cloud