TIBOR!!!

You guys!  Huge news!  Remember a while back I said not to leave bikes locked up in Kensington?  And then quite recently I said that I was having recurring dreams about my bicycle that I'd had for over a decade that was stolen in Kensington in October?  Guess what!  I found Tibor!  Yesterday!  I found Tibor, seven months later!  I think this is a clear indication of remote viewing being a real thing.

Ok, some background.  I'm moving out of Philly at the end of the month, but for all I's and P's, after tomorrow, I'm gone.  I'll be out of town from Thursday to Monday, packing Monday, then leaving the city Monday night.  As part of my going away process, I've been having a lot of farewell meals.  Yesterday's was a farewell lunch on Penn's campus.  After the lunch, I walked my co-eater back to their office on Drexel's campus, and headed west on Market St, an intersection I seldom ride by.  I turned left at 34th, heading towards Spruce, when I noticed a shiny, silver bike locked at the corner to a light post.  Having been on the lookout for Tibor ever since he was stolen in October, looking at every bike I pass is not an uncommon thing for me to do.  Anyway, I turned back to get a closer look, and holy crap, it was Tibor!  Whaaaaaaaat???  He was stolen in Northern Liberties, what was he doing down here???

Tibor!!!

After some checking and double-checking I confirmed that it was, in fact, Tibor.  Almost all of the original components were intact, which I found funny because the thief had taken the time to scrape some of the turquoise paint off the fork and pinkish paint off the stem (not all, just some) in an attempt to disguise the bike, but left on the easily recognizable gold Salsa grips and wolf-insignia'd WTB saddle.  He was a little beat up, with a thoroughly rusted chain from being locked outside and a non-drive crank arm dangling from the bottom bracket, but nothing that couldn't be fixed.  I was so excited I could have exploded like a giant firework, spraying happy guts all over University City.

So I called the cops.  I'd filed a police report back in October and I wanted to resolve this the proper way.  I called back an hour and a half later after no one showed up.  After two and a half hours, two calls, and still no cop, a friend of mine came down with a hacksaw and we took Tibor back ourselves.  I couldn't tell if the cops weren't showing in the hopes that the thief would appear, a confrontation would ensue, and then they'd have something real to attend to, or what.  In any case, no one paid any attention to us slowly and unskillfully cutting through a cable lock with a dull hacksaw on a busy street corner around rush hour.

After ghost riding Tibor home from my three-speed Ross, I was able to take a good look at the damages.  The seat post had been cut down to accommodate a shorter rider, the chain was shot, the BB and non-drive crank needed replacing, my wooden crate and bungee net were gone, the brakes were worn to nubs, and most annoyingly, the steel fork that had been sanded down to hide his identity was now covered in rust.  Could have been way worse, as the expensive wheel set and high end tires were intact and undamaged, though woefully underinflated.

Based on his somewhat dilapidated state and the location of recovery, here's what I think happened.  Tibor was stolen by a Kenzo junkie looking to get high (I hope their veins fall out).  They sold him to some shady-ass pawn shop under the El for $10 (I hope their store gets broken into by a junkie).  That pawn shop then sold it to a Penn student for $50 (I hope they get buried in student loan debt).  Then, as Penn move-out was last week, that student abandoned Tibor when they left town for the summer.  Just call me Sherlock.

Regardless of everything else, finding Tibor in the 11th hour before my departure (leaving just enough time for repair work) was clearly my going away present from the City of Philadelphia.  Thanks, Philly.  That was a nice going away gift, even if it kind of was a re-gifting.

Is anyone in the market for a three-speed Ross?

Best Friends Animal Sanctuary: Day 2

After taking that guided tour of the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, they knew I wouldn't be able to say no to picking up a volunteer shift.  Only a monster would have been able to say no to those adorable fuzzballs that only want cuddles.  The animals, not the employees.  The employees did not want cuddles.  In fact they mostly wanted me to stop trying to give them the cuddles I assumed they wanted.  The cashier was not amused.

So I signed up for a morning shift (8am-noonish) the following day, and showed up a little early, a spectacular feat for someone typically incapable of arising early.  Christmas morning kids would understand.  When I checked in at the Visitor's Center, they told me to leave my trailer down in the huge lot by the horses, as Cat World didn't have adequate parking for that sizable a rig.  This would be my first time unhooking the trailer since Mississippi.  Ok.  I could handle this.  All I need to do is park it somewhere level, put wedges under the trailer tires so it didn't roll, disconnect the electrics, unhook the two safety chains, unpin the hitch stand, lower the stand, unlock the ball hitch, raise the stand over the ball, pull the truck forward, lower the stand so that it was level, and put the hitch lock in place so the trailer couldn't be stolen.  Nothing to it, right?

A surprisingly short time later, I was on the upper canyon, high above the Visitor's Center  in the Cat World parking lot.  I needed to first check-in at the Cat World HQ/Clinic where I was shown a short video about cat handling.  Fun fact: Don't pick cats up by their hind legs like you would a chicken.  I guess chickens really only have hind legs as their front legs are wings.  Or are they arms?  Or are our arms just front legs that are really bad at running?

Cat World is made up of a six or eight or something around there buildings housing over 600 cats (also something around there).  Each has it's own theme, and I was assigned to Colonel's Brigade.  The Brigade, like the other buildings, was a large building that could be broken down into about seven to nine rooms.  The doorways on either side led to a long, rectangular room that served as the hub of the building.  That main room had multiple storage closets, a couple loose kitties, and a prep area with a sink for getting food and meds ready.  Then, all around that long room, were the cat rooms.  Each room had ten or so cats in it, as well as ample sleeping, eating, hiding, and bathrooming areas.  Everything a cat could need.  Those rooms were nice, but fairly boring, almost like they were designed from recycled office blueprints.  But connected to those rooms were the most amazing part of the whole building.  Each of those cat rooms were connected to their own very large, screened-in patios full of climbing structures (large driftwood, cat ladders, cat hotels, etc.) that led to exposed beam ceilings.  But they didn't call them patios.  No, I was in Cat World.  They were called Catios!  How cute is that?  I just want to cuddle that word!  Catio!

The Catios, aside from providing a lot of free space and fresh air, provided something a lot of those rescued cats desired more than anything else: seclusion.  Up in the ceiling, hiding in the rafters, were cats that were terrified of people.  They were all over, and there were even litter boxes and bowls of food and water so the cats would never have to come down if they didn't want to.  The kitties in Cat World were given time and space to acclimate to human interaction.  This is probably why Best Friends has an over 80% placement rate.  They let their cats get used to people on their own terms rather than forcing it.

Hiding out in the rafters!

After checking in, my first job was to take Benton for a walk.  There were only two people working in the CB, and they were busy with important morning tasks, so I think this was mostly to get me out of there hair for 20 minutes so they could get settled in.  At least that was what I thought until I unzipped the front of the blue cat stroller.  As soon as that first tooth passed through the slider, I heard the thump thump thump of a cat bounding down from atop a cabinet.  That was Benton, and he had clearly been waiting for his walk.  He jumped straight into the stroller and I zipped him back in.  I was told to take him on the winding walking path outside and to watch out for rattlesnakes while I did so.  To be fair, I'd been warned about eminent death when I signed the volunteer waiver.

While walking around in the blazing Utah summer sun, we happened upon other cats in strollers as well as some on leashes.  They all looked like they were having the time of their lives!  And they were all being walked by volunteers.  That's why this place was so successful.  There were a lot of animals and a lot of work to be done, but people come from all over the country to volunteer to help make the lives of these animals a little better.  And it was working.

Meowzers Meander??? Are you kidding me???

After a long stroll with Benton (seen above), I headed back to the CB.  Once there, the real work started.  Cleaning litter boxes, emptying uneaten food, putting out fresh food, putting out fresh water, washing dirty dishes, mopping, sewing up holes in the strollers, and more.  Pretty much anything that didn't involve some sort of special animal training.  Other than those jobs, though, there was the extremely important job of playing with the cats.  A very important job indeed, as all of those cats needed cuddles.  So many cuddles!

Aside from just playing with the cats that wanted to be played with, I also needed to put some face time in with the cats that weren't quite down with human interaction.  The rafter cats.  Petting a rafter cat isn't easy, but as with most creatures of some intelligence, bribery could probably get me through the door.  Armed with baby food and a small spoon, I moved the ladder under some of the rafter cats and attempted to grease the wheels of affection with mushy chicken.  I was mildly successful, which was good enough for me.  I would load that spoon up and slowly work my way towards one of the cats, and then, if they didn't run away, let them lick the spoon clean.  I'd do that a few times before eventually feeding them directly off of my finger.  It was real progress for some of them.  For others, not so much.

I say them, but you need to know that every single one of them had a unique name.  There was Darla (she had a smooshed face and a tongue that always poked out just a bit), Corky, Rhett, Nibs (so tiny!), Smoochy, Callista, and many many more.  And it wasn't just that every cat had a different name, each name had a two-year hold placed on it after a cat left (adoption or otherwise).  This meant that Mr. Whiskers would be the only Mr. Whiskers for at least two years after his departure.  That is some serious dedication to critter naming.

My four hour shift flew by in no time at all, and before I knew it, it was lunch.  This was when I found out that Best Friends Animal Sanctuary has a $5, all-you-can-eat, vegan buffet at lunchtime.  What???  Was I in heaven?  Had a died?  Did a rattlesnake bite me a few hours back when I was walking Benton?  Does time continue seamlessly as our consciousness evacuates our dying bodies?  Does that mean we have souls?  If we do and they maintain consciousness, why do we even need bodies?  Is it to dance?  I heard it's to dance.  That seems silly.  But then, a lot of silly things are fun.  Like pogo sticks and Halloween.  No, I wasn't dead.  I was hungry, and why would a disembodied consciousness be hungry?  Duh, of course I was alive.  Also, consciousness ends when we die.  It's a function of your brain you dumb doy-oy.

Before I left for lunch, my two CB leads asked if I wanted to work the afternoon shift too.  There wouldn't be any other volunteers in that day, and I just couldn't imagine those cats not getting vigorously played with, so I said, "Of course I'll stay!"  My original plan was to do a morning shift and then leave for Capitol Reef, but Capitol Reef was just going to have to wait because I was busy hanging with some cool cats.

This is how cool cats hang.

Best Friends Animal Sanctuary: Day 1

Once again, I struck out at the NCB lottery.  After having such a nice night outside of Coral Pink SDSP, I had high hopes.  High hopes that quickly diminished, as failure was all but guaranteed upon arrival, with the parking lot (empty the day prior) almost completely filled.  This nearly full parking lot gave me a new reason to dislike certain drivers, specifically those who park their little coupes in the extra long trailer parking spots even though normal-sized spots are still available.  The lengthwise equivalent of parking in two spots.  I crammed into the last available trailer spot, the one right next to the light pole that I didn't want to take because I was pretty sure I'd side swipe the metal post with the trailer as I attempted to pull out of the lot.  The small cars that occupied the other trailer spots looked so roomy and comfortable that I almost wanted to light them on fire.

Anyway, having struck out once more, I brushed my teeth in the parking lot, made some breakfast, and planned my day.  Having made the drive to the dunes the night prior, I passed two signs that piqued my interest (for two very different reasons): 1) Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, because I want to pet every animal, and 2) Moqui Cave, because I love tourist traps.  This post is about the prior, as the latter is a waste of both time and money, and not in a good way.

Cleaned and fed, I headed back up US-89 to the BF Animal Sanctuary hoping to make some furry friends.  I had no idea what I was in for when I turned off the highway and headed toward Kanab Canyon/Angel Canyon.  I didn't know that I was heading into the most magical place on earth.  Disneyworld doesn't have shit on the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.

The road in wound high through red canyons, passing staff and guest housing, and led to a massive field alongside a trailer-friendly parking lot.  Horses were milling about in the field, with workers doing work things with them.  I parked and headed straight up to the visitor's center, eager to get to meet a non-equine critter.  It's not so much that I'm disinterested in horses as I am leery of them.  They are giant animals that could stomp me into the ground if they so desired.  I respect their sized and prefer to steer clear.  I've ridden one once as an adult.  It was disconcerting.

After climbing the canyon stairs leading up to the visitor center (with a relaxing koi pond), I saw herds of people and charms of hummingbirds.  Did you know that's what a flock of hummingbirds is called?  I didn't until just now, moments before typing it.  I really could've called it anything and you'd have likely taken my word for it.  Maybe it isn't actually called a charm and I'm pulling one over on you.  In any case, there were multiple feeders under a shaded deck along the visitor center, and hummingbirds flitted about, alternating between feeding on nectar and scaring away other little HBs trying to get nectar of their own.  Apparently HBs are territorial little buggers and can get pretty vicious in defense of that sweet sweet sugar water.

Hummingbirds!

From the vantage point of the VC, it was obvious that the Sanctuary is in a very special place.  Angel Canyon is a sprawling pink and orange canyon, not dissimilar from the canyons throughout Southern Utah, but instead of remaining untouched (conservation through desolation), the Best Friends had built their sanctuary harmoniously into the canyon (conservation through appreciation).  The main road horseshoes through the sanctuary (built on and in the canyon), passing open fields and a natural amphitheater, and gaining elevation as it climbs the canyon its natural curve.  I had come in at the bottom of the canyon, and beautiful as it was down there, it didn't have anything on the scenic overlook up above on the other side of the shoe.  The sanctuary was built in the type of canyon I love to hike in.  Animals and canyons!  It was perfect!

Situated on close to 21,000 acres, the sanctuary is home to over 1,600 animals (mostly temporary, some permanent, never kill).  These animals are then within the following species-based habitats:

• Dogtown
• Cat World
• Horse Haven
• Marshall's Piggy Paradise
• Bunny House
• Parrot Gardon
• Wild Friends

These different areas are separated so that animals don't have any interspecies overlap, which could be especially traumatic for rescued animals that may have spent most of their lives being abused.  Aside from the specific-specific habitats, there is also a clinic for animals needing extra help as well as special plot named Angels Rest and Memorial, which was where any animals that passed before finding homes were laid to rest.  I wanted to see everything, and fortunately for me, they offer tours of the sanctuary.

After saying goodbye to the hummingbirds, I headed in to sign up for a tour.  I was an hour early for the next tour, so they gave me a map of the facility and showed me where a nearby trail was that I could kill some time on.  The trail was supposed to end at some petroglyphs, but I read the map wrong, so once I ran out of time scrambling about a sandy canyon, I headed back for my tour.

It's a Catio!  Get it???

Two hours later, I was pretty sure I wanted to stay forever.  So many animals!  Dogs!  Cats!  Everything else!  Even horses... Apparently some of the horses had come from BLM round-ups.  After wild ponies are caught by the Federales, some are brought to Best Friends to be domesticated.  What they do is put the wrangled pony in a low-walled stabled out in the horse field.  Then they bring out a domesticated horse and have them meet over the wall of the stable, with the tame horse out in the field.  Over the course of meetings, the tame horse teaches the wild pony how to be human-friendly.  Once tamed, the horse can be placed in a home.  I never cared that much about horses until now!

All the little towns and worlds were set up so perfectly for the animals with ample space in each facility, areas to run around outside on leash (or in a stroller), and most amazingly everything was so clean!  I know people with three cats that smell like they have 300, so the fact that their different cat facilities with 50+ cats didn't smell bad was impressive.  On top of all that, I learned about their 80% animal placement rates and lifetime return policy in cases where families decide that they can't keep a pet!  How was this all possible???  For the sake of keeping this from growing any longer, I'll answer that question next post. 

When I got back to the visitor's center, they asked if I wanted to sign up for a volunteer shift during the week.  I now knew why I didn't win a NCB lottery permit.  I was going to spend my last full day in Kanab playing with kitties, not hiking The Wave.  That made way more sense.