Enemy of Entropy

Protect Your Dogs and Boycott Four Paws Products Ltd.

27 August 2008, 11:55 pm. 3 Comments. Filed under Announcement, Critters, News.

First, if you dog has a Pim­ple Ball With Bell (what an icky name!), take it back wher­ever you bought it and ask them to refund your money for the dan­ger­ous thing, and take the rest off the shelves.

After read­ing about the injuries at least four dogs have expe­ri­enced due to the absolute refusal of Four Paws Prod­ucts Ltd. to mod­ify or recall their prod­uct after being informed of these prob­lems. One dog had to be euthanized.

The com­pany and its insurer (I wish I knew their name) have been irre­spon­si­ble, at the very least.

Please talk to pet stores in your area about remov­ing the “pim­ple ball with bell” from their shelves. Warn other dog own­ers about the prob­lem. Con­sider talk­ing to your vet, so he or she can do the same.

Con­sider writ­ing to Four Paws, as well. E-​​mail isn’t nearly as effec­tive as a mailed or faxed let­ter, or even a (polite!) phone call.

I didn’t find the name of any exec­u­tives on their web site, but will add that after I try call­ing tomor­row. Here’s the mail and phone infor­ma­tion:
50 Wire­less Blvd.
Haup­pauge, NY 11788
Phone: (631) 434‑1100
Fax: (631) 434‑1183

Their par­ent com­pany is Cen­tral Gar­den & Pet Com­pany. The pres­i­dent of the “Pet Group” is James V. Heim
Pres­i­dent of Pet Group
1340 Treat Boule­vard, Suite 600
Wal­nut Creek, Cal­li­for­nia 94597
Phone: (925) 948‑4000

I haven’t found a fax num­ber. Yet.

Poetry: Jane Kenyon

12 June 2008, 9:57 pm. 1 Comment. Filed under Critters, Poetry.

The Blue Bowl
by Jane Kenyon

Like prim­i­tives we buried the cat
with his bowl. Bare-​​handed
we scraped sand and gravel
back into the hole.
                               They fell with a hiss
and thud on his side,
on his long red fur, the white feath­ers
between his toes, and his
long, not to say aquiline, nose.

We stood and brushed each other off.
There are sor­rows keener than these.

Silent the rest of the day, we worked,
ate, stared, and slept. It stormed
all night; now it clears, and a robin
bur­bles from a drip­ping bush
like the neigh­bor who means well
but always says the wrong thing.

Oth­er­wise: New & Selected Poems

 

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