The Humane Society of the United States has once again gotten a “D” grade from the American Institute of Philanthropy/CharityWatch, according to the group’s August Charity Rating Guide. CharityWatch has now given HSUS a “D” grade for two years. (It previously had a “C-minus”—which would still get you grounded by your parents.)
CharityWatch writes in an accompanying article that HSUS gets a “D” for “spending paltry amounts on their programs and maintaining high fundraising costs.” The watchdog finds that HSUS spends as little as half of its budget on programs and spends as much as 48 cents to raise every dollar. HSUS is a factory fundraising machine—and a deceptive one, at that.
To learn more or to become a member of CharityWatch, Click Here.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Killing a Dream
A cat started it all.
Nothing much to look at, just an ordinary calico cat that wandered into a home,
a heart, and a new life.
Craig Grant had to decide if he was going to care for the cat his son could not take, or leave it to an uncertain, but likely cruel fate. But it wasn’t his decision to make. It was Pepper’s. And Pepper...
Craig Grant had to decide if he was going to care for the cat his son could not take, or leave it to an uncertain, but likely cruel fate. But it wasn’t his decision to make. It was Pepper’s. And Pepper...
became Craig’s cat.
And one cat became two, and then two more, and finally the flock overwhelmed the heart and became bigger than the house. So Craig did what he knew he was meant to do. He became the savior of cats. The shepherd of lost kittens. The kind of man with the kind of dream America needs. He knew he had to save, not kill. Create, not destroy. Define your dream, marshal all your resources, and do it.
So with his goal in mind, Craig used all his savings, his creativity, and his persistence to build what would become Caboodle Ranch, the largest free-range cat sanctuary in the world (Guinness Book of World Records, 2012).
He searched for the right kind of property. One with no restrictions on the numbers of animals. Maybe in a poor county, where he could offer jobs to local people and others could benefit. And in 2003, he found the right spot. Thirty acres of woods in Madison County Florida. This was ranch country, so his daughter named the spread the Caboodle Ranch. And a magical place was born.
There were a few cats at first, but as the word got out that there was a place that could give cats a second chance at life, a place where feral cats, sick cats, old unadoptable cats, could live without cages and without the constant threat of the needle, well, in 2003, the cats started coming.
By January of 2012, 653 cats lived a happy, safe life at Caboodle Ranch. By March of 2012, the cats were gone. What happened? Where did the cats go? And why were they taken? There were two reasons, one local and one political.
For some unknown reason, the Madison County Board of Commissioners decided the county really, really needed an ordinance to control the number of animals allowed on 2 1/2 acres or more. Not the cattle or goats, or bison, but the cats or dogs. It was very important to have this ordinance, so the Excess Animal Habitat Ordinance was created. The EAH would limit the number to 30, but a sanctuary could apply for a permit, if it could meet all the requirements that the county could think of. And Craig applied for the permit and began to work.
So while he sweated and worked, and thought he was exactly on the right track, and spent thousands on fencing and barns, and whatever they came up with next, the raid was being planned. Craig was given a deadline of March 27 to finish all the requirements for the permit, but a month before the deadline, they struck.
On February 27, 2012, the rainiest day in Florida in months, the Sheriff’s Department, the ASPCA, and hundreds of volunteers from rescue groups flown in from all over the country, poured onto the ranch. Sheriff’s deputies arrested Craig Grant for animal abuse. The raiders chased the terrified cats, caught them and put them into carriers and then into a truck. They turned over the charming little buildings; they tore down part of the fencing; they carted away Craig’s files, his money, his medicines, his dream.
The cats were put in cages in an unused shelter in Jacksonville. Everyone was assured that this would be over soon, and the cats, at least those that were adoptable, would soon be happier than they ever dreamed. Those that were still alive, that is. The ASPCA , the victorious rescuers of already rescued cats, they announced the incredible victory over a hoarder, a criminal abuser, someone who should never, never even hold a cat again.
There were hearings to be heard, and trials to be tried, and all the while the cats were in cages in a hot building in Florida all through March, April, May, June, July, and part of August. The cost didn’t matter, as the ASPCA had told the sheriff the raid wouldn’t cost the county a penny. After all, donations funded all the ASPCA rescues. That was such a coup for the county. No more Caboodle cats that annoyed somebody, somewhere enough to want to wipe them off the map.
Victory is ours, said the ASPCA, but you know what? Let’s see if we can have the Sheriff get Caboodle Ranch pay us back for our expenses. Even though we don’t have to do that, our donations take care of rescue events, why, we have spent $700,000 on car rentals, $150,000 on airline tickets, $15,000 on pheromones to calm the cats and just a teeny, teeny bit on Dilly Bars from Dairy Queen! Maybe we can get a few nickels from the broken man. The costs hearing is being scheduled.
So for months the cats lived in their cages. They had vet care, just like they did at the ranch. They had ample food, just like they had at the ranch. They had volunteers to watch over them, but they didn’t have their Papa. They didn’t have their freedom, and some of them soon, wouldn’t have their lives.
Oh, there was another reason for the raid. A political one. Some annoying legislators wanted to pass a law making it illegal for shelters to kill an animal when a qualified non-profit rescue organization is willing to save that animal. Some people didn’t want that law. No-kill shelters might end up as hoarders by taking in more animals than they could handle. It could happen. It might be kinder to the animals if they died before they could suffer the abuse of over-crowding. Keep them in the kill shelters.
How can that proposed law be stopped? How about if someone makes an incriminating, misleading video of a sanctuary, then persuades the sheriff to take the video as evidence of abuse to the state attorney, who after considering the possibilities, decides to press charges against the sanctuary. A huge, dramatic raid would be a perfect public relations event. Let’s do it.
So they did. And with the raid, the accusations, the hearings, the trials, the legal fees, they—the unknowns who wanted Caboodle to be a memory—they broke the man. They “disposed” of almost all of his cats, and in spite of a court order demanding that the ASPCA make a good faith effort to locate and identify Craig’s personal pets, Tommy, Meatball, Toot, Snoop Dog, and Crackers, Craig hasn’t seen any of his cats for months. The ASPCA was also asked to keep them from being adopted, and to hold them until the court decides to end Craig’s despair, and return them to him. Nobody knows where they are or if they are even alive. And the ridiculous charges of animal abuse against the cat man still loom.
There is already a book called An American Tragedy, so I won’t borrow that title, but the name fits. Caboodle Ranch has been taken from Craig Grant, but also from all the people who had lost jobs, then houses, and found a home for their beloved pets at the ranch. It’s lost to the shelters that were overcrowded, who knew Craig would take in their excess cats. It’s lost to the tourists and visitors who came by the hundreds, and then spent their money in local shops. It’s lost to the volunteers who got so much personal satisfaction because they knew they were helping families and animals and Craig.
The trials and hearings are not over. For Craig, the threat of jail time exists; the threat of poverty is real. The legal bills are huge, but thousands of Caboodle Ranch fans are praying for Craig to prevail, and are sending donations, writing letters, sharing the story on Facebook and Twitter.
Out of the ashes a new Caboodle Ranch will be born, but certainly not in Madison County, Florida. And a new group of unwanted, unloved cats or just plain unlucky cats, will be given a second chance at life. And, as he was meant do to, at the helm will be Craig Grant, a man building his dream.
And one cat became two, and then two more, and finally the flock overwhelmed the heart and became bigger than the house. So Craig did what he knew he was meant to do. He became the savior of cats. The shepherd of lost kittens. The kind of man with the kind of dream America needs. He knew he had to save, not kill. Create, not destroy. Define your dream, marshal all your resources, and do it.
So with his goal in mind, Craig used all his savings, his creativity, and his persistence to build what would become Caboodle Ranch, the largest free-range cat sanctuary in the world (Guinness Book of World Records, 2012).
He searched for the right kind of property. One with no restrictions on the numbers of animals. Maybe in a poor county, where he could offer jobs to local people and others could benefit. And in 2003, he found the right spot. Thirty acres of woods in Madison County Florida. This was ranch country, so his daughter named the spread the Caboodle Ranch. And a magical place was born.
There were a few cats at first, but as the word got out that there was a place that could give cats a second chance at life, a place where feral cats, sick cats, old unadoptable cats, could live without cages and without the constant threat of the needle, well, in 2003, the cats started coming.
By January of 2012, 653 cats lived a happy, safe life at Caboodle Ranch. By March of 2012, the cats were gone. What happened? Where did the cats go? And why were they taken? There were two reasons, one local and one political.
For some unknown reason, the Madison County Board of Commissioners decided the county really, really needed an ordinance to control the number of animals allowed on 2 1/2 acres or more. Not the cattle or goats, or bison, but the cats or dogs. It was very important to have this ordinance, so the Excess Animal Habitat Ordinance was created. The EAH would limit the number to 30, but a sanctuary could apply for a permit, if it could meet all the requirements that the county could think of. And Craig applied for the permit and began to work.
So while he sweated and worked, and thought he was exactly on the right track, and spent thousands on fencing and barns, and whatever they came up with next, the raid was being planned. Craig was given a deadline of March 27 to finish all the requirements for the permit, but a month before the deadline, they struck.
On February 27, 2012, the rainiest day in Florida in months, the Sheriff’s Department, the ASPCA, and hundreds of volunteers from rescue groups flown in from all over the country, poured onto the ranch. Sheriff’s deputies arrested Craig Grant for animal abuse. The raiders chased the terrified cats, caught them and put them into carriers and then into a truck. They turned over the charming little buildings; they tore down part of the fencing; they carted away Craig’s files, his money, his medicines, his dream.
The cats were put in cages in an unused shelter in Jacksonville. Everyone was assured that this would be over soon, and the cats, at least those that were adoptable, would soon be happier than they ever dreamed. Those that were still alive, that is. The ASPCA , the victorious rescuers of already rescued cats, they announced the incredible victory over a hoarder, a criminal abuser, someone who should never, never even hold a cat again.
There were hearings to be heard, and trials to be tried, and all the while the cats were in cages in a hot building in Florida all through March, April, May, June, July, and part of August. The cost didn’t matter, as the ASPCA had told the sheriff the raid wouldn’t cost the county a penny. After all, donations funded all the ASPCA rescues. That was such a coup for the county. No more Caboodle cats that annoyed somebody, somewhere enough to want to wipe them off the map.
Victory is ours, said the ASPCA, but you know what? Let’s see if we can have the Sheriff get Caboodle Ranch pay us back for our expenses. Even though we don’t have to do that, our donations take care of rescue events, why, we have spent $700,000 on car rentals, $150,000 on airline tickets, $15,000 on pheromones to calm the cats and just a teeny, teeny bit on Dilly Bars from Dairy Queen! Maybe we can get a few nickels from the broken man. The costs hearing is being scheduled.
So for months the cats lived in their cages. They had vet care, just like they did at the ranch. They had ample food, just like they had at the ranch. They had volunteers to watch over them, but they didn’t have their Papa. They didn’t have their freedom, and some of them soon, wouldn’t have their lives.
Oh, there was another reason for the raid. A political one. Some annoying legislators wanted to pass a law making it illegal for shelters to kill an animal when a qualified non-profit rescue organization is willing to save that animal. Some people didn’t want that law. No-kill shelters might end up as hoarders by taking in more animals than they could handle. It could happen. It might be kinder to the animals if they died before they could suffer the abuse of over-crowding. Keep them in the kill shelters.
How can that proposed law be stopped? How about if someone makes an incriminating, misleading video of a sanctuary, then persuades the sheriff to take the video as evidence of abuse to the state attorney, who after considering the possibilities, decides to press charges against the sanctuary. A huge, dramatic raid would be a perfect public relations event. Let’s do it.
So they did. And with the raid, the accusations, the hearings, the trials, the legal fees, they—the unknowns who wanted Caboodle to be a memory—they broke the man. They “disposed” of almost all of his cats, and in spite of a court order demanding that the ASPCA make a good faith effort to locate and identify Craig’s personal pets, Tommy, Meatball, Toot, Snoop Dog, and Crackers, Craig hasn’t seen any of his cats for months. The ASPCA was also asked to keep them from being adopted, and to hold them until the court decides to end Craig’s despair, and return them to him. Nobody knows where they are or if they are even alive. And the ridiculous charges of animal abuse against the cat man still loom.
There is already a book called An American Tragedy, so I won’t borrow that title, but the name fits. Caboodle Ranch has been taken from Craig Grant, but also from all the people who had lost jobs, then houses, and found a home for their beloved pets at the ranch. It’s lost to the shelters that were overcrowded, who knew Craig would take in their excess cats. It’s lost to the tourists and visitors who came by the hundreds, and then spent their money in local shops. It’s lost to the volunteers who got so much personal satisfaction because they knew they were helping families and animals and Craig.
The trials and hearings are not over. For Craig, the threat of jail time exists; the threat of poverty is real. The legal bills are huge, but thousands of Caboodle Ranch fans are praying for Craig to prevail, and are sending donations, writing letters, sharing the story on Facebook and Twitter.
Out of the ashes a new Caboodle Ranch will be born, but certainly not in Madison County, Florida. And a new group of unwanted, unloved cats or just plain unlucky cats, will be given a second chance at life. And, as he was meant do to, at the helm will be Craig Grant, a man building his dream.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Tell Congress to End Chimpanzee Experiments
Chimpanzees—humans' closest living genetic relatives—are extremely social, intelligent individuals who have rich mental
and emotional lives. They have incredible memories, they share cultural
traditions that are passed down through generations, they care deeply for their
families and friends, and they grieve the loss of their loved ones when they
pass away.
Sadly, more than 900 of these remarkable beings are imprisoned in U.S. laboratories, where they are forced to endure decades of invasive procedures as well as fear, loneliness, and pain. This hellish experience leaves lifelong emotional scars on chimpanzees, and many of them resort to self-mutilation or suffer from depression and other psychological disorders after experiencing the trauma of having their minds and bodies violated.
Despite international criticism, the U.S. remains the only nation in the industrialized world that continues to conduct invasive experiments on chimpanzees.
Many of these chimpanzees have been intentionally infected with diseases such as HIV and hepatitis—even though scientists agree that they are archaic and unreliable models for researching human illnesses. A landmark National Academy of Sciences report examining the scientific validity of experiments on chimpanzee has even concluded that "most current biomedical research use of chimpanzees is not necessary." In response, the National Institutes of Health has announced that it will suspend consideration of funding for any new experiments on chimpanzees. The agency has also stated that all currently funded experiments on chimpanzees will be reevaluated and that funding for many may be ended.
Further to these efforts, Congress has introduced the Great Ape Protection and Cost Savings Act (H.R. 1513/S. 810), which would permanently end the use of chimpanzees—and all other great apes—in invasive experiments and retire more than 600 federally owned chimpanzees to sanctuaries where they could live in peace at last.
Please help protect chimpanzees and other great apes now by asking your congressional representatives to cosponsor and support the Great Ape Protection and Cost Savings Act.
To learn how you can send a letter to your Senators and Resprestative, please visit PETA now.
Sadly, more than 900 of these remarkable beings are imprisoned in U.S. laboratories, where they are forced to endure decades of invasive procedures as well as fear, loneliness, and pain. This hellish experience leaves lifelong emotional scars on chimpanzees, and many of them resort to self-mutilation or suffer from depression and other psychological disorders after experiencing the trauma of having their minds and bodies violated.
Despite international criticism, the U.S. remains the only nation in the industrialized world that continues to conduct invasive experiments on chimpanzees.
Many of these chimpanzees have been intentionally infected with diseases such as HIV and hepatitis—even though scientists agree that they are archaic and unreliable models for researching human illnesses. A landmark National Academy of Sciences report examining the scientific validity of experiments on chimpanzee has even concluded that "most current biomedical research use of chimpanzees is not necessary." In response, the National Institutes of Health has announced that it will suspend consideration of funding for any new experiments on chimpanzees. The agency has also stated that all currently funded experiments on chimpanzees will be reevaluated and that funding for many may be ended.
Further to these efforts, Congress has introduced the Great Ape Protection and Cost Savings Act (H.R. 1513/S. 810), which would permanently end the use of chimpanzees—and all other great apes—in invasive experiments and retire more than 600 federally owned chimpanzees to sanctuaries where they could live in peace at last.
Please help protect chimpanzees and other great apes now by asking your congressional representatives to cosponsor and support the Great Ape Protection and Cost Savings Act.
To learn how you can send a letter to your Senators and Resprestative, please visit PETA now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)