Dogs Eating Marijuana

A report in Denver, CO that more and more Veterinarians are getting cases of a number of dogs who have eaten edible marijuana and is finding that the diagnosis isn’t good.  VCA Alameda East Veterinary Hospital in Denver is reporting hundreds of cases of canines coming in with digestive problems after eating edible Marijuana.  The vet is reporting dogs have no control over themselves after eating a quantity of marijuana.  The primary problem vets are seeing in dogs, who have eaten marijuana, is urinary incontinence.  There is no antidote for marijuana ingestion by dogs.  In some cases, if owners wait too long, the dog will not survive.  Vets throughout Colorado are pleading with dog owners to keep their bags of marijuana out of reach of their canine companions.  Thus far, that plea appears to be falling on deaf ears.

As we all know, "medical marijuana" is now legal in the state of Colorado (as of January 1, 2014).  Now, it is one thing to have about half the population in Colorado high as a kite.  But, having their dogs high as hell is another.  How are dogs going to do their jobs if they are high?  Will they even chase cats?  Bark and wake you up at 3AM?  In all seriousness, this borders on animal cruelty in my eyes.  If you are going to smoke the crap, then do it.  But, don't endanger an innocent dog by leaving the bags of marijuana laying around on the couch or coffee table.  Dogs will eat anything that remotely looks and smells like food.  Every dog owner knows this.  So, it seems common sense that you don't leave your marijuana laying on the floor for Fido to consume.  If you come back out of the bathroom to find Fido with his eyes crossed, suffering with a bad case of the munchies, you have no one to blame but yourself.  Keep the marijuana out of reach, people.  It could kill your best friend.


Update on Guest Blogging Experiment

As stated last December, I was going to try something unprecedented on David's Musings.  I decided to try guest blogging on this old blog.  The topic was the paranormal/supernatural.  Judging by the number of hits (since I never get comments here any longer, but large number of visitors) on each guest blog, it has been a huge success story.  Each guest blog post has gotten at least 500 hits, which is about 200 more than I had anticipated.  The Voice in the Wilderness, by John Malcolm, was one of the most fascinating stories I have ever read anywhere!  It still gets about 5 to 6 hits a day.  There have been four altogether.  But, the one that got an unprecedented amount of hits was The Thing in the Idaho Wilderness by Tom Spencer.  It was by far, and I do mean BY FAR the most popular post ever in the nearly six year history of David's Musings.  From the time it was posted early Friday morning (02/14/2014) to the next Saturday morning, it had over 9600 hits!!!!  Many blogs don't get that many hits in a month.  It was incredible.  As of this date, it has over 11,200 hits.  It averages (excluding that 9600 hit night) 228 hits a day.  That is unreal.

I am thinking of continuing the guest blogging experiment here.  I had originally intended for it to last just one month.  But, the guest posts on the paranormal/supernatural were so utterly fantastic, I had an extremely tough time sorting out the ones I felt met the criteria I set forth.  Thus far, there have been 78 guest entry applicants.  I have accepted 5, with the 5th guest post slated to be posted next month.  As I stated originally, I can't tell if everyone is telling the truth about their experiences.  That is impossible.  But, even if they aren't truthful, they are certainly entertaining.  So, once again, if you have personally had any paranormal/supernatural experiences and want to share them on this blog, click the "Contact Us" link on the right column.  Who knows?  Your post may beat the one by Tom Spencer of 9600 hits in 24 hours!


The Beggar

I was at my local Shell station gassing up my Honda Civic this past Tuesday.  Normally, it is just another uneventful moment in my daily life.  But, this was not going to be uneventful moment.  As I put the gas nozzle into the gas tank port, I noticed a man who had seen better days heading toward me.  Yeah, he was probably homeless and looking for an easy mark.  I checked my pocket for loose change.  I had a grand total of 35 cents.  He addled up to me and said, "Howya doing?  My name's Paul and I need a little help."   I asked him what kind of help he needed, knowing full well what was coming.  I was wrong.  "I need someone I can pray for today.  I've only had one person who would let me pray for them all day.  I'd be obliged if I could pray for you," the homeless man said.  Shocked, I told him I'd be happy to let him pray for me.  He touched me with his left hand, prayed for at least two minutes.  When he finished, he thanked me profusely.  I thanked him.  As I reached into my pocket to give him what I had in change, he shook his head.  "No sir, I don't want your money.  I am a beggar, make no mistake about that. But, I'm a beggar of a different sort.  I beg God to bring peace and tranquility into the lives of people.  God Bless you and have a great day."  With that, he turned and disappeared down the road from whence he came.

As I stated Monday, there is someone in my life who needs prayer for a physical infirmity they have at present.  Maybe that prayer was answered at the Shell service station.  I don't know.  But, that was one beggar I will never forget, whoever he was. But, to that gentleman, I say, God Bless you also, sir.


Prayers for Someone Dear to Me

I don't think I have done this in the nearly six year history of David's Musings. Maybe I should have done this sooner.  What I mean is dedicate an entire blog post asking for prayers for someone who means a great deal to me.  This blog is strange in some ways.  When it was first starting out, I got a lot more comments than I do now.  But, I did not have nearly as much traffic as I do now.  Now, I have between 4-5K visitors a day.  But, I get few comments.

But, to those of you who do read this blog, please lift someone up in your prayers today.  Her name is Eve.  She is facing a terrible physical crisis at the moment.  I ask that you pray for Eve today.  I ask that you pray for healing for her body, mind and, especially, her soul.  Like me, she is a sinner and falls short of the loving Grace of God.  Sinner or not, I still pray for guidance and direction in my life and for those I know that need Him.  Eve is very afraid today she will receive a bad diagnosis that will affect her life.  I'm praying that won't happen. When I pray, I ask God for His healing touch.  But, at the same time, I ask for God's Will.  God knows my will.  But, I ask for His Will in my life and in those that need Him.  I ask that you do likewise today.  If you have a few moments of silent prayer for my friend Eve, I would greatly appreciate it.

Thank you.


The Thing in the Idaho Wilderness

Today's guest blogger is Tom Spencer.  Mr. Spencer is a retired building code contractor for counties in northern California.  His interests are painting God's great creation on canvass, league bowling, softball, and going fishing at resort areas with his son and grandson.  Mr. Spencer is a Vietnam Veteran who also participates in charities to help Vietnam Veterans.

If you have a story to share relating to the paranormal/supernatural, click HERE for details.  Also, to answer many questions, there is no charge for guest posting on the topic of the paranormal/supernatural.


When I was a boy, we lived in Idaho.  I'm not going to say exactly where in Idaho. I have my reasons. This state is known for it's tough, scraggly wilderness areas.  There is much to do and see in Idaho.  From raging white water rafting to scenic beauty to camping, many tourists are attracted to my home state.  My father's boss, Mr. Johnson, had a cabin near what is now known as The Frank Church—River of No Return Wilderness Area.  It consists of parts of several mountain ranges, including the Salmon River Mountains, the Clearwater Mountains, and the Bighorn Crags. The ranges are split by steep canyons of the Middle and Main forks of the Salmon River.  The Salmon River is known as "The River of No Return."  There's a good reason for that.  It has extremely swift currents that can drag you under.  Many have died on this river.  Certain scenes of the movie "River of No Return," with Marilyn Monroe and Robert Mitchum, were shot on this river. As I said, Mr. Johnson had a cabin near this area (it was known as the Salmon River Breaks Primitive area in the 60s. It was renamed in Senator Frank Church's honor in 1984) that myself, my dad and grandpa camped out at Mr. Johnson's cabin many a summer night.

It was in August of 1965 when I heard the first scream at the Johnson cabin.  I was a shy, awkward 14-year old boy who felt more at ease in the wilderness than I did around people.  It had been a fruitful day of fishing for trout.  The deal was whoever caught the first fish of the day had to clean all the fish.  It never failed I always caught the first fish of the day for reasons I still can't understand.  Usually, about 3 PM, we would call it a day and head back to the cabin.   I would finish up the fish cleaning, grandpa would coat them with his favorite flour and seasonings. Grandpa would have made a killing selling his fried fish if he had ever decided to do so.  But, back to that scream...we had finished up eating, and grandpa decided to open the windows to let a little air in the cabin.  We didn't want the place stinking when Mr. Johnson would visit it after we would leave.  Right after grandpa started opening the windows, the first scream of that awful night occurred.  It's a scream that is, to this day, hard to describe verbally.  It is even more difficult to explain in the printed word.  It was the combination of a woman and lion screaming.  I know that is a difficult to imagine.  But, that's the best way I could describe it   Aaaaooooooooooyyyyyy.......AAAAAAOOOOOOOYYYYYY is as best as I can put it in print.  It was incredibly loud.  We had glasses on the edge of the sink that literally vibrated right off and broke on the floor.  Yes, they were not only loud, but the screams originated within 100 feet or so from the cabin.

My dad and grandpa grabbed their .12 gauge shotguns which they always carried with them when we went camping.  Grandpa took the old kerosine lantern with him outside to get a better view of whatever it was out there.  That kerosine lantern was not very bright.  But, we could see movement in the dense bushes behind grandpa's old Chevy truck.  I said, "Dad, behind grandpa's truck....LOOK!!!"  It was visible for the briefest of times....maybe as long as one heartbeat.   My dad said later he did not see anything when he fired that shot of buckshot.  But, he hit something.  We then heard the mother of all screams.  It was a deep, guttural scream not unlike that of mountain lions I have shot in California poaching on my property.  It was definitely a scream of pain this time though.  Whatever it was, it took off at an inhuman speed.  As I said, I did see it.  The picture you see up above is as close to what I saw that night.  It had human form.  But, it was not human.  It was approximately 6 ft tall and maybe 140lbs at most.  I saw it for only a second that particular moment.  But, I would see it again.

We all went back inside since whatever it was had taken off.  My grandpa was a tough, no-nonsense type of man.  I never saw him upset or scared....until that night.  Grandpa was shaking like a leaf.  He was so nervous he couldn't light his own cigarette.  He finally asked me to light it for him.  Dad was white as...well, a ghost.  I wasn't any better.  I felt sick to my stomach and was nauseated.  I looked at both my dad and grandpa and asked, "What was that thing?  I think you got a piece of it, dad."  My dad looked at me and said he thinks he winged it also.  "Whatever the hell it was, I got a feeling we ain't seen the last of it," grandpa correctly predicted.  Indeed, it was only the first encounter with "The Thing in the Wilderness" that particular night.

As we had finally gotten our wits about us, we again heard the unholy scream.  This time, it was closer.  Grandpa quickly grabbed his shotgun. "Whatever that damn thing is, he's pissed off now.  Get your shotgun, son. This might be a long night," said grandpa.  My dad grabbed his shotgun and they both looked out the window.  Dad told me to go hide under the bed.  There was no way I was going into that bedroom by myself.  I wasn't leaving.  There were four windows from the kitchen back toward the sparse living room. Dad then told me to keep a look out the windows in the living room....it was only one big picture window.

 Again this thing screamed!!!  It was incredibly loud.  I can't stress enough how loud it was.  In some respects, it sounded like T-rex on the "Jurassic Park" movie.  It doesn't seem possible something this small (relatively speaking) could scream this loud.  It just seemed impossible. Grandpa, who was momentarily taken aback and shaken, had regained his composure. "I'm going out there to give this damn thing something to scream about!!!" grandpa exclaimed.  My dad said he wasn't letting him step out that door.  "We don't know what this is.  Until we do, none of us are leaving this cabin," Dad told us. He didn't have to worry about me.  Nothing could have forced me out that door now.  We all fearfully waited to see what would happen next.  It had been at least an hour since that last scream.  BAM!!!!!  Something had slammed against the living room door!!  The front door hinges had come loose from the impact.  My dad told grandpa to stay at the kitchen door, he was going to the living room door.  My dad grabbed me and told me to stay behind him.  Again, silence for an hour and then two hours.  Nothing.  It was now about 1AM.  Nobody was sleepy.  We were too scared to sleep.

It was now closing in on 3AM.  Grandpa had his head on the kitchen table with the shotgun resting near his head.  Dad was alternately waking and then snoozing.  I was doing neither.  I was still petrified by the night's events.  I was looking back and forth at both doors, at the windows and shaking with fright.  I then just casually glanced toward the big picture window in the living room where I was sitting with my now snoozing dad.  THERE IT WAS AGAIN!!!  This time, I got a very good look at it.  It had a grayish, milky skin layering.  It had deep sunken eyes that were blacker than the night sky. It was thin and tall.  It looked right at me.  I was too shocked to even move, much less scream.  BAM!!!!! Another huge impact on the living room door!  This time, the top hinge flew completely off.  The living room door was still shut.  But, it was only hanging in by the bottom hinge.  One more hit and the door is coming down.  My dad and grandpa jumped up immediately with this latest attempt to knock down the door.  My dad tried opening the door.  But, it was jammed.  Again, the unearthly scream pierced the night air.  "OOOOOOAAAAAYYYY.....OOOOOAAAAYYYY!!!!!!"  Grandpa opened the kitchen door, my dad screamed at him to close the damn door!  Grandpa did, but not before he got off a shot from his shotgun.  Grandpa later said he didn't see anything when he fired.  But, he wanted "The Thing" (as I still call it) to know they were armed and could inflict considerable pain.  After he fired off that shot, grandpa closed the door and propped a chair up against it.  Dad did the same thing to the now unstable living room door.  We all sat back down....and waited.

As it turned out, that was the last time "The Thing" attempted to get inside the cabin.  I think it was like grandpa had said, it was pissed off and was wanting a piece of each of us.  Dad had clearly winged it with some buckshot. The next morning, as we slowly awoke, dad went outside (with his shotgun, of course) to inspect any other damage to the cabin.  The living room door was smashed inward.  It would have to be replaced.  But, the damage was not limited to the cabin.  The rear bumper of grandpa's Chevy truck had been completely ripped off!  I don't even like to think about the strength of something that could have done that.  Dad looked at the bushes where he had fired his shot that night.  There was a chalky substance in the bushes similar to blood splatter.  We figured it must have come from that creature.  We immediately gathered up all our equipment, supplies and headed out from there.  When we got home, my dad called Mr. Johnson to tell him a bear had attacked the cabin.  Mr. Johnson said he has lived here 35 years and never seen any bear.  But, that was our story and we decided it best we stick to it or else wind up in the state mental institution.

We never went back to Mr. Johnson's cabin for reasons I am sure you can now understand.  We never told Mr. Johnson the truth.  My dad told Mama about what happened.  But, she never believed it.  Few people ever believed us. Most people think grandpa and dad had too much whiskey and gave me some also.  Grandpa and my dad are gone now.  They were both avid hunters.  But, after that night at the cabin, they never went hunting again in the wild, to my knowledge.  I still have both of those shotguns used that night in my dining room closet.  Just in case.  As for "The Thing," your guess is as good as mine as to what it was or is.  The pic up above is as close as I can find that adequately describes it.  But, the creature's head was a bit more round.  The skin tone seemed about right.  That pic may be fake.  But, it's as close as I could find that bore a close resemblance to The Thing.  It did not look anything like the many instances of "Big Foot" that you have read about or seen pics of on TV and the internet.  Personally, I think there are many things in nature that can't be explained away by science.  Science is not the definitive answer to everything on earth.  That night at Mr. Johnson's cabin convinced me of that.

Like my grandpa and dad, I never ventured back into the wilderness of Idaho again.  I was and still am too damn scared.  Whatever it was that night, might still be looking for a bit of revenge from the only surviving member, that scary night in August, at Mr. Johnson's cabin.

Enjoyed this story, did you?  Then read another similar story HERE

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Thinking Outside the Box in the Literary World?

I have stated many times before, I took up writing after my retirement from federal service over ten years ago.  I have always enjoyed writing.  Writing stories is like a drug to me.  I'm able to escape reality and live in a make believe world of my choosing.  Some readers say that is one reason they enjoy reading. I can appreciate that as well. Be that as it may, trying to get your idea or story published can be an adventure worth writing about in and of itself.  I won't rehash all the disconcerting hassles I went through in trying to get my novel (Diary:  Alone on Earth) published with a traditional publisher.  I learned a very valuable lesson during that ordeal.  I also learned that literary agents are an exercise in futility.  That's as nice as I will ever be about a "literary agent."  A traditional publisher or literary agent is not interested in you unless you are an established writer or a celebrity coming out of rehab for the ninth time.  In short, both the traditional publishers and literary agents are stifling innovation in writing.  If you don't meet a certain criteria or standard, they don't wish to speak to you.  That's a shame.  I have come across some very talented writers during my time in trying to get my novel published.  They too had bad experiences attempting to get published.  I finally went the eBook route with my novel.  I didn't enjoy the success I had anticipated because I simply could not afford to go the self-publishing paperback venue.  But, I did get good reviews on my book.  I just did not meet the standard(s) set forth by publishing overlords.

I attempted to get a job with About.com as a monthly contributor in the "Senior Living" category.  I have lots of expertise, especially over the past ten years.  But, About.com only looks at standards, just as literary agents and publishers maddeningly do.  They could not fathom someone's life experiences would be of any benefit to their readers unless they have a master's degree or working in physical therapy(?).  It seems not only do traditional publishers and literary agents stifle innovation, but online publishers do as well.   Yes, I applied with About.com and was summarily rejected.  Now, I realize competition is fierce.  I accept that.  But, I feel that it was my not fitting the standard, the in-the-box mode that kept me from being even considered.  I was told the review would be long since they had so many applicants.  I was given a rejection notice in less than 5 days.  I didn't fit the standard the writing world looks for in a writer. So, send off the standard rejection notice in email.  And that's a shame.  There are a lot of writers, like me, who have a lot to share.  But, we are unable to get past that traditional barrier setup by the writing world of publishers, literary agents and the About.coms of the world.  Did I expect to be chosen?  I put my chances at 50/50 at best.  I knew what I was up against.  But, to receive a rejection so quickly...well, it tells you that you didn't fit their "traditional criteria."

I took a look at some of their titles on About.com Saturday (02/08/2014)"Ohio Man Gets Buried with His Harley"...."Behind the Scenes of the LEGO Movie."...."Get A Better Looking Butt"....."Does A Degree Matter Much in the Music Biz?"(talk about your irony of ironies)Really?  Is this what we have come to in the writing world?  I'm "About" ready to throw in the towel.  It's just not worth the aggravation any longer.  If this is what passes for "writing" in today's world, I want no part of it.


Puppy Day

I'm working on some other projects right now.  I've got too many irons in the fire, so to speak.  As for this blog, I've got about 30 guest bloggers waiting on me to either say yay or nay on their post for my topic of supernatural/paranormal.  I promise to get around to you folks as soon as I possibly can.  But, right now, I'm just totally booked on any number of fronts.  So, to give me a little relief, I think a few pics of puppies are in order.  I haven't done this in a while.  Just click on the pics to expand them.  I'm partial to beagle puppies since I own a beagle.  Or maybe it's the beagle (Ralph) who owns me.  I'm not sure which it is at times. In any case, enjoy Puppy Day!


Baby Boomer Regrets

As one of the millions of the Baby Boomer Generation (Class of 1951), I have regrets that cannot be overlooked.  I think I am not alone in that feeling.  According to a Yahoo report, there are many Baby Boomers who regret not saving for retirement.  That, to me, is beyond comprehension.  I knew at age 25 I was not always going to be 25.  So, I saved, little by little, until I had a decent nest egg for retirement.  In this report one Baby Boomer stated her chief regret is that she had a family, bills and a demanding job that occupied her time.  Now, in her 50s, she states there is no retirement for her, not even a burial plan.  Most do not have the financial education to plan for their retirement.  Now, this woman is paying for her mistakes when she was young.  I've met so many baby boomers like that.  So many, in fact, until it saddens me to even write about it. 

Another regret, by a baby boomer, talked about getting herself deep into credit card debt.  For over a year, she lived off unemployment checks and her credit cards.  She maxed out all her credit cards in order to try and maintain her standard of living.  I wonder just what kind of standard of living she had.  She finally admitted it was careless money management on her part that contributed to her putting herself into this money pit.  She did get another job with less pay.  And, she has paid off about 50% of her credit card debt.  Her regret is that instead of adding to a retirement nest egg, she is continuing to use that money to pay off credit card debt.  That's also a sad story.

My biggest regret, as a Baby Boomer, is that I never took seriously the notion of starting a family.  That is something I greatly regret now at age 62. I was too self-absorbed, caring only for myself and no one else.  I didn't want the burden of a family or wife.  I eventually married at age 50.  But, that marriage didn't work out.  So, I am left alone entering my sixties and wondering what kind of children I would have had if I had thought more about my future as a family man instead of a self-centered dolt.  I have no one to blame for this but myself.  Like the above two individuals, we Baby Boomers have regrets aplenty.  All of us do.  But, like so many generations, we all have regrets that we wish we could change if we had a "do over."  Unfortunately, in the real world, there are not always happy endings. 

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