Y’all know what a cattle prod is, don’t cha?

It’s sort of like a taser, only the size of a walking cane. It has a little button that sends out a charge of about 1000000 volts of electricity. And how do I know this? I grew up on a farm and was playing with one one rainy day. Just about shot myself off to Mars. When I worked at the prison, we all had to get a taste of pepper spray (it gets in your eyes and you have to flush it out. Think about sticking wasabi covered fingers in your eyeballs and that would just about cover it. We also get to try out tasers, dialed down so much they are almost off, with the idea that if you know how it hurts, you won;t be flinging it around all the time. At the rate they zapped me, it came SO FAR from a cattle prod that it didn’t even register. Oh, it played havoc with my nervous system and made me extremely very twitchy but didn’t hurt. Why? Because I’ve shot my own self with a cattle prod, that’s why.

And today, instead of the regular baseball bats to my head or the little fish fillet knives behind my eyeball, I have to twin joys of a cattle prod to my head (OWWWWWW!) and one to my right hip, as well. (Ow OW OWOOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWWWWWWW!)

I think I need a new hip. My head? No hope there.

Today, after I get the cattle prod problem taken care of, the dogs get rabies shots and tags (I hate having to pay a tax to have a dog since MY dogs aren’t the ones the pound is tending to. I think bad pet owners should be the ones locked up at the pound, myself. Although in reality, it wouldn’t change their tune. Some people are just not meant to be around pets, people or anything with feelings. . Sure, it’s broken they are and broken they will stay. I think they need to be shot off to another planet where they can be mean to each other. I vote to be in charge of the beaming up button.

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