Be Different; Don't Have Kids

Young Groundhog in Love

I mean don't bring them into this world.  People who adopt, whether humans or animals, and are exemplary adoptive parents, are heroes because they give a home to someone who needs one.  People who adopt human children, as far as I'm concerned, "clean up someone else's mess," which means they pick up the ball after a biological parent has dropped it (so to speak).  I have very strong feelings about biological parenthood.  I have never impregnated a woman, and therefore never brought someone into this wicked world, and I am very proud of that.
Why do so many people bring other people into this world?  This planet has been plagued with brutality and misery from the beginning.  The strong and vicious have been preying on the weak and timid from the get-go.  What must we deal with in our lifetimes?  Pain, bullying, intimidation, ridicule, humiliation, insults, job loss, threat of violence, threat of horrible fates like becoming paralyzed, sickness, disease, injury, deterioration of mind and body as a result of old age, death of friends and loved ones, and, ultimately, one's own death.
Uh-uh.  Not good enough for my kids: my kids that don't exist.  I refuse to bring my kids into this world.  So many things could happen to them.  As children, they could be abducted, raped, tortured, and murdered.  It has happened to many children.  Why would I bring them into a world where this horrible scenario is a distinct possibility?
Because I'm not selfish enough to do so.  I suspected that the reason why many people become biological parents is because they are selfish.  Perhaps they are unhappy, and they feel a cute little baby will cheer them up or give them a reason to live.  Then there's the reason that, unsolicited, was presented to me at my workplace.  A coworker asked me if I had kids, and I said no.  Then she asked me if I wanted to have kids, and I said no.  Then she asked me, "Don't you want to have someone to take care of you when you get older?"
There it was: selfishness on display.  According to my coworker, I should have kids for my sake, not theirs.  They should have to suffer in this hateful world until it's time for them to take care of me.  I disagree with such a notion.  That's why it's obvious to me that I care more about my (nonexistent) children than ANY biological parent cares about their kids.   
Overpopulation, what a problem.  Oil will run out at some point and so will clean drinking water.  People who can't even support themselves are bringing children into this world, that, of course, they can't support.  The more people there are in this world, the worse it is for the animals who share it with us.  We knock down more wilderness, driving the animals who live there out of their homes, so we can build more buildings for ourselves.  Meat-eaters will raise more meat-eaters, insuring that animals will continue to be enslaved under concentration camp-like conditions.  We take everything from them: a chance to live natural lives, follow their natural instincts, and be content, their freedom, their lives, and their dead bodies.  We have created a nightmare world for Earth's animals.  Even if everyone suddenly gave a damn about animals, became vegan, and demanded that all livestock be freed immediately, it obviously couldn't be done because road kills would increase exponentially. 
Granted, my own experience in life colors my attitudes about life on Earth.  I have been afflicted with depression and OCD.  I am the result of a teen pregnancy, and my father had left our little family by the time I was two years old.  But when approximately one million people commit suicide worldwide every year, I'm not the only one who isn't happy as a clam.  If you really want to have a kid (or a pet), and you're willing to do whatever it takes to be an exceptional parent, I implore you to adopt.  It really is the right thing to do.        

My Squirrels

Is that a squirrel penis, or is it a vagina?

I suppose they have become my squirrels.  "My" squirrels certainly doesn't imply ownership.  As far as I'm concerned, sentient beings cannot be owned in any way, shape, or form.  I mean "my" in the same sense as my friends or my children.  If they didn't before, they know where I live now.  I have named the one who doesn't hesitate to approach me whenever she sees me: Sammy.  Sammy the squirrel works on at least a couple of levels.  I believe it is a good name for a squirrel, and even though I refer to her as a female, I have no idea what the sex of any of these squirrels may be, their genitals are probably quite small, and Sammy can be a name for a boy or girl.  In fact, there is a young woman at my place of work whose name is Sam.
Yesterday, I came home from work, and, as I was approaching my building, they descended upon me.  Sammy came closest, while two other squirrels kept their eyes on me, albeit from distances which they were comfortable with.  I didn't have any nuts on me, but there were some in my apartment that had been earmarked for my squirrel friends.
"Just wait right here," I said to Sammy.  "I've got some nuts inside, and I'll come back out with them real soon."  When I came down the stairs of my building, I noticed that a squirrel, probably Sammy, was perched on a rail that was just outside the front door.  This lofty position probably allowed her to peer inside the window to look for me; I believe that is what she had been doing.  She had waited for me!  This time I had pure, inside-the-shell pecans for them.  As she saw me approaching, she left the rail and retreated a bit to the sidewalk.  I tossed one to her.  She immediately seized it and hopped off to enjoy it, presumably before any of the other squirrels could try to take it from her.  After all, they are as wild as they are cute.  So I tossed another pecan to the closest squirrel.  Unfortunately, the other one went after it as well, and there was a very brief skirmish which caused one or both of them to squeal.
"Don't fight!" I yelled at them.  Both of them immediately froze when I did that.  I didn't want to scare them, but I certainly didn't want them to hurt each other, especially over the nuts that I had given them.  I yelled so loudly that my voice echoed back to me.  I resumed tossing nuts to them.  They both received one and promptly left the area, much the way Sammy had done.  I stood there for a few moments with my open nut bag until I realized that this feeding session was pretty much over.  The only squirrels in sight were hopping off with pecans.
After some research on the Internet, I concluded that I could expand the variety of nuts I'd been giving them to include pecans and hazelnuts.  I had given them hazelnuts the day before.
This business of squirrels being aggressive toward each other over the nuts I'd given them has had me concerned from the start.  Then I recalled that I'd witnessed plenty of aggression between squirrels before I ever fed one.  They're wild, and some of them are bullies.  I suppose every species has its bullies. They'd rather take from another then go out and find their own, which is rather like the way that many people are.  This has always been a brutal world, and it probably always will be.  Logically, being aggressive is how many animals instinctively survive.  The nuts that I feed them probably aren't going to turn them into Mother Theresa's, but they probably won't turn them into Adolf Hitlers either.      

     

Squirrel Sugar Daddy

It's a hard life to love.

It's hard to tell one gray squirrel from the next.  I know that at least one of them recognizes me: maybe more than one.  It must be so hard for her to approach me.  One of those times, I looked at her and realized that her poor little heart seemed to be beating out of her chest.  She must have been going against her instincts.  Her instincts tell her to fear the giants.  But she knows a gentle giant: me.  I told her how brave she was.
A squirrel approached me and was transfixed by my nut-throwing hand.  Her eyes followed it everywhere.  I grabbed a handful and tossed it.  She advanced as I was in the act of throwing.  As a result, she was showered with (pure) walnuts.  As a few of them struck her back lightly, she tensed up a bit, perhaps she even let out a little pee-pee or poo-poo, but she soon recovered and feasted.  I feed them almost daily.  I admire them.  I've even seen them foraging in the pouring rain.  They are tough survivors.  I'm quite conflicted about feeding them though.  I've seen them act aggressively toward each other: seemingly over the nuts that I left out for them.  They're even cute when it comes to aggression though.  They tend to advance and pounce toward their prey, who usually gets out of the way just in the nick of time (they seem to be hyper-aware).  For some reason, this reminds me of chess (knight takes pawn).  I tell myself that they'll be aggressive toward each other anyway.  One day I was walking past a restaurant, and I heard a noise that got my attention.  I looked to my right and saw two squirrels leap at each other and collide in midair, which was accompanied by a horrible battle cry.  This happened in a dumpster area, so I suppose they were fighting over food garbage.  I never forget that they are wild, and they live by a different set of rules than we do: none.