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Posts tagged ‘landlords’

Animal abuse is punishable

So I’ve been told I should blog about what’s happened. If anything, just to feel better and in part to publicly accuse a man guilty of animal neglect, which amounts to abuse.

I’m not sure what to write, to be honest. So, instead of stuffing meaningless words into a post, for once I’ll just tell you the facts as I know them.

To protect myself legally, although I’m not sure if it helps, these facts are hearsay. I haven’t any proof other than emails I received from people who benefit in no way from lying to me. Thus, I believe them.

Today I was informed that we don’t know how Shadow is or whether or not she was put down. We will never know.

It turns out that Jacques van Dyk took Shadow, a beautiful, healthy 4 year old cat when he broke up with his fiancé. He prohibited her from taking the cats, which included her own Persians and Shadow. By this stage, Niblet had passed away a happy cat  (for that I am forever indebted to his fiancé).

From what I understand, the fiancé kept in touch with their landlady in order to check upon the cats. Up until she received a call from the landlady, the cats were healthy. The call was to find out whether the fiancé knew where Jacques was, as he had apparently packed up and left in the middle of the night.

Leaving all the cats locked in the house with no food.

The cats were alive and alright when the landlady found them. The fiancé asked that the landlady wait until she got there, to take the cats somewhere safe. The landlady didn’t wait and took Shadow and the rest of the cats to the SPCA.

From what I understand, this was well over a year go.

The bastard has been lying to me for well over a year. In hindsight, I knew he didn’t have her, but the audacity it took to agree to let me pick her up only a few months ago, is unforgivable.

The neglect of animals who are in your care is unforgivable.

Abandoning them, locking them up in a house and leaving them with no food is abuse and is punishable.

I shall be laying a claim of theft at the police station and shall take all email evidence (including emails and texts from Jacques proving that he had the animals at one stage and his subsequent lies after the fact) to animal rights organisations and the like. The police will also be informed the abuse.

This may not help, but hopefully it will help to scare him into taking care of animals that are in his possession and implied protection.

I am guilt-ridden and heart-broken and so will stop now. I hate myself for leaving her with him and wish I could take it back. If I hadn’t had abandoned my animals with strangers, this would never have happened.

For those who don’t know the story thus far:

Post 1,

Post 2

Post 3

He had the nerve to tell me he was heart-broken.




Can’t think, can’t think, can’t think

So today poses interesting quandaries.

New home front view (beach view to the left, more sea view to the right...the only place you can't see sea, is if you turn around to look at the house). No Infernal.

I spent yesterday in the midst of a deep depression, but I believe that sometimes you must hit the bottom in order to rise up, regardless of how cliché that may sound.

This morning I wake up and start to organise. My friend has forgiven me. I’m not sure how, but she has forgiven me for letting her down so horribly; Infernal has been informed that I will be moving for financial reasons, which, despite have a slightly false inference, is the truth; and my new landlords know I will be moving in Monday, providing my new neighbour also moves in. Synchronised moving and all

Beautiful view, but you have to actually leave the house to see it. Plus, Infernal is there. Need I say more?

that – long story, I shan’t bore you.

So, with all that on my plate, I set about trying to make more money. It is needed, and rather desperately, as I’ve explained previously. After having sent an exhorbitant amount of emails, I felt myself whistfully wondering after kittens.

I’ve been keeping track of shelters and adverts for awhile now. Part on the look out for Shadow and partly because those little faces warm my heart. There has been no hiding the fact that, regardless of my getting Fluffy back, I will need company and will want a cat (or plural) in my house. I have no intention of replacing Fluffy. No one could. She is beautiful. She is mine and she will always be. I’ve posted my own ‘missing’ adverts and will always hope someone finds her, but I think I must put the hatred and sorrow behind me now. It hurts too much and nothing I do is getting me any closer to finding her. I will always hope though and nearby shelters have been informed of her.

So, off I go trolling the sites for kittens or cats and I came across these two. Their foster mum works in a vet and, thus, they’ve been checked and offer cheap sterilisation at a later date, but that’s not why I loved them. Look at their faces!!

Kittens! Need I say more? Who could part these two? Apparently a few people want to.

They are beautiful. They’re desperate to stay together, well their foster mum thinks they’re very ‘tight’ and shouldn’t be separated – I agree. I can offer them a home together and so much love, I just may smother them, but not for two weeks. I contacted the lady, in my proactive state. Told her about my situation and how I must wait two weeks. Apparently, I’m the best prospect so far, as everyone wanted to separate them. She said she hasn’t a problem waiting two weeks. I don’t want the kittens to be at a loss, so I told her that if a better prospect comes along, I understand, but please just inform me. Now I sit here wondering, after ending the call only moments ago, what if? What if someone takes them? What if she decides to keep them? Should I call back? Should I go and visit so she can see I’m serious? What if…

So, now I can’t think. Stuck in whirl of ‘what ifs’ disguised as kittens.

Religious fervour or blog bust?

My landlord’s mother is no longer speaking to me.

Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t faze me in the slightest – the woman’s a nuisance. Religious fanatic is practically tattooed on her forehead and I may as well have torn my clothes off and donned my favourite tutu when I told her I wasn’t religious.

I’ve nothing against religious people. In fact, I envy them, it must be quite comforting to have religion to lead the way.

But leave me to my vices.

She has the hard-lined face of a former alcoholic and the straight-backed stance of the ‘reformed.’ She instantly puts me on edge. And hides in the shadows of the braai area, waiting to pounce the moment I leave my cardboard box.

Now, I’ve tried to come up with reasons why she would be ignoring me. She obviously thinks this is some form of cruel torture, rather than blessed relief, but I want to know why.

Firstly, she could have read this blog, where I tittle on about Infernal and his OCD ways (Side Note: watched him brush down the outside chairs in such a panic yesterday…what a [insert expletive here], but it was fun to watch). I think I may have mentioned his psychotic stalker of mother and her religious fervour on here too. But no…the chances are slim. When I told her son what I do for a living I got: “Oh, like as in computers?” – it seems to be a family failing.

Secondly, she would have, without doubt, heard my inane and blasphemous curse the other day, as her stalker like son (this isn’t Infernal, by the way, it’s his scarily quiet brother) gave me the fright of my life.

He hovers on the balcony, like some antithetical Juliette and waits until I’ve exited the car and about to walk away, before uttering a quiet, monotone “Hellooo.”  Now, tell me that’s not freaky? I can’t shower. I keep seeing Psycho scenes.

But then I realised: I often don’t come home.

No doubt she’s already decided how I paid for my car and imagined lude, late night shifts with a Russian drug runner. I leave for work at roughly 7.30am and don’t come back until either late at night (much later than normal working hours) or lunch time the following day. What else could I be doing? I mean, let’s face it, we all know that’s what redheads do, right? 😉

I can just see her, monitoring my every move. Watching me arrive in the same clothes the following day, dog-tired and jumping at her sociopath of a son.

But I will never tell her of my secret, midnight rendezvous with….the internet.

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