Once upon a time a greyhound was born in Australia . He was worth so very little that he wasn’t even given a name . Neither cared for or loved by his racing industry owner , he was sold to the hell on earth known as The Canidrome in Macau China , to race for what his life was worth . He was given a racing name ” Chill Sing” for identification at The Canidrome , but in reality he was just a cell number “508 “. “508 ” now diced with death each time he was taken out onto the deadliest race track in the world . He was literally running for his life . It was only a matter of time before his days would be numbered like the thousands before him who never came out of that place alive. While ” 508″ languished in there , suffering unimaginable neglect and pain in a damp, cold cell that could only be described as a living hell , his condition and that of most of the other 530 worsened with each passing day . With three concrete walls and a ceiling above him , all he could see or do for 23.5 hours per day was listen to the whimpering, yelping cries of his fellow cell mates . If he was lucky he got taken out of his cell for a few minutes and was tied to a rail with a lead so short his neck was stretched high and he couldn’t lay down while his excrement was hosed out of the cell . He would then be forced back inside his now saturated cell with only a wet floor and no warm bed to lay on until the next day . In winter he froze and in summer it was so hot and humid , he would have to lie on the filthy floor with his head under the bars of the cell door to try and catch a little fresh air or a breeze. The conditions were atrocious and the food no better . Dry kibble and water was all he was given . For “508 ” his days were spent staring at a concrete wall except for a few minutes when he was walked around the Canidrome laneways to stretch his legs in preparation for racing . His feet had never touched grass , he only knew that the humans around him were too busy and unfriendly to give him the time of day. Never had he been spoken to with kind soft words , brushed , patted or even given a scratch under the ear . Like most of the other greyhounds that were barely existing in the Canidrome , 508″ withdrew into himself to survive . Then one day a kind human lady and a man came to visit him and told him that everything was going to be ok and to just hang in there a little longer ….if he could. A few more friendly humans also began visiting him regularly and taking him out for walks .. ….along the same concrete laneways but they would at least allow him stop and relieve himself . They didn’t pull hard on his lead or yell at him to hurry up . He had a bath , and photos taken . The cuddles were nice and he really looked forward to them but the months dragged on and he was still confined to his cell for long long hours each day . His bones ached from never having a soft bed to sleep on , his teeth were sore and rotting in his mouth from not having ever eaten good or nourishing food . He was melting in summer and freezing in winter . His shivering causing callouses to build up on his elbows from the hard concrete he layed on . But the day did come for ” 508″ . He didn’t know it when his cell door was opened that day on 16th March 2019 , or that it was going to be for the last time . He stepped out of his prison cell and into a new life that was just about to begin . Firstly , he was off to a foster home with a kind Portuguese man and his family, to wait until his turn came to head back to Australia and whilst living in an apartment many many floors tall might sound unconventional for an ex racing greyhound , it was actually the perfect way for him to transition from cell life to eventually life on a farm. He now had the comfort of a soft bed and more freedom to move around. He was escorted down in the building’s lift three or four times per day to relief himself outside and most of all he was shown love and compassion . Smelling , seeing , hearing so many new and strange yet wonderful things in a crowded city would have been daunting for most dogs locked away for so long and deprived of everything a pet would normally experience but “508” took it all in his stride . Each day became more wonderful to be alive . His foster family made sure of that . Then on Monday 20th May two months after being freed from the horrors of The Canidrome , this little brindle greyhound , who now had his very own official pet name ” LENG CHILL ” ( Cantonese for beautiful Chill ) – CHILL for short , said goodbye to his temporary foster family and headed home to Australia. Our little ( and he is small for a boy ) greyhound is finally home . Back in the country where he was born and should never have left . He has felt the grass beneath his feet for the first time and smelled the fresh country air . He has the freedom to run and play on over an acre of land when ever he wants . He has people who love him and he is truly alive and able to be ‘ just a dog ‘ at last . Welcome home CHILL โค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธ. One of the 18 who made it home when 18,000 others didn’t ๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข

Once upon a time a greyhound was born in Australia . He was worth so very little that he wasn’t even given a name . Neither cared for or loved by his racing industry owner , he was sold to the hell on earth known as The Canidrome in Macau China , to race for what his life was worth . He was given a racing name ” Chill Sing” for identification at The Canidrome , but in reality he was just a cell number “508 “. “508 ” now diced with death each time he was taken out onto the deadliest race track in the world . He was literally running for his life . It was only a matter of time before his days would be numbered like the thousands before him who never came out of that place alive. While ” 508″ languished in there , suffering unimaginable neglect and pain in a damp, cold cell that could only be described as a living hell , his condition and that of most of the other 530 worsened with each passing day . With three concrete walls and a ceiling above him , all he could see or do for 23.5 hours per day was listen to the whimpering, yelping cries of his fellow cell mates . If he was lucky he got taken out of his cell for a few minutes and was tied to a rail with a lead so short his neck was stretched high and he couldn’t lay down while his excrement was hosed out of the cell . He would then be forced back inside his now saturated cell with only a wet floor and no warm bed to lay on until the next day . In winter he froze and in summer it was so hot and humid , he would have to lie on the filthy floor with his head under the bars of the cell door to try and catch a little fresh air or a breeze. The conditions were atrocious and the food no better . Dry kibble and water was all he was given . For “508 ” his days were spent staring at a concrete wall except for a few minutes when he was walked around the Canidrome laneways to stretch his legs in preparation for racing . His feet had never touched grass , he only knew that the humans around him were too busy and unfriendly to give him the time of day. Never had he been spoken to with kind soft words , brushed , patted or even given a scratch under the ear . Like most of the other greyhounds that were barely existing in the Canidrome , 508″ withdrew into himself to survive . Then one day a kind human lady and a man came to visit him and told him that everything was going to be ok and to just hang in there a little longer ….if he could. A few more friendly humans also began visiting him regularly and taking him out for walks .. ….along the same concrete laneways but they would at least allow him stop and relieve himself . They didn’t pull hard on his lead or yell at him to hurry up . He had a bath , and photos taken . The cuddles were nice and he really looked forward to them but the months dragged on and he was still confined to his cell for long long hours each day . His bones ached from never having a soft bed to sleep on , his teeth were sore and rotting in his mouth from not having ever eaten good or nourishing food . He was melting in summer and freezing in winter . His shivering causing callouses to build up on his elbows from the hard concrete he layed on . But the day did come for ” 508″ . He didn’t know it when his cell door was opened that day on 16th March 2019 , or that it was going to be for the last time . He stepped out of his prison cell and into a new life that was just about to begin . Firstly , he was off to a foster home with a kind Portuguese man and his family, to wait until his turn came to head back to Australia and whilst living in an apartment many many floors tall might sound unconventional for an ex racing greyhound , it was actually the perfect way for him to transition from cell life to eventually life on a farm. He now had the comfort of a soft bed and more freedom to move around. He was escorted down in the building’s lift three or four times per day to relief himself outside and most of all he was shown love and compassion . Smelling , seeing , hearing so many new and strange yet wonderful things in a crowded city would have been daunting for most dogs locked away for so long and deprived of everything a pet would normally experience but “508” took it all in his stride . Each day became more wonderful to be alive . His foster family made sure of that . Then on Monday 20th May two months after being freed from the horrors of The Canidrome , this little brindle greyhound , who now had his very own official pet name ” LENG CHILL ” ( Cantonese for beautiful Chill ) – CHILL for short , said goodbye to his temporary foster family and headed home to Australia. Our little ( and he is small for a boy ) greyhound is finally home . Back in the country where he was born and should never have left . He has felt the grass beneath his feet for the first time and smelled the fresh country air . He has the freedom to run and play on over an acre of land when ever he wants . He has people who love him and he is truly alive and able to be ‘ just a dog ‘ at last . Welcome home CHILL โค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธ. One of the 18 who made it home when 18,000 others didn’t ๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข
โ€” Read on m.facebook.com/story.php

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Australia and Ireland ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ช

This was taught us some years back & many believe all Aussies should be aware of it, if not know revere it.

THE CROSSES OF THE FLAG ST. PATRICK’S CROSS

Diocletian Constantine became the Emperor of Rome, elected by legions of the army while he was still in Britain. When the whole Empire had acknowledged him, he stopped the persecution of the Christians. During his reign of about 30 years, he himself was baptised, & he proclaimed the Christian faith to be the official religion of the Roman Empire. Teachers, protected by the highest authority, travelled to the furthest boundaries, encouraging those who were now relieved from the burden of oppression, receiving all those who would believe. When the Roman Empire was threatened by invasion the armies were withdrawn from the most distant colonies to defend the central provinces. From the year 400, hordes of heathen Angles & Saxons from the continent came swarming into Britain, raiding the towns & cultivation that had prospered under Roman rule, burning the churches.

They drove the Christians before them to the mountains of the west. Patrick was born in a Christian family, on the west coast of Britain, possibly in southern Scotland. One day when he was herding his father’s sheep along the grassy dunes beside the sea he was kidnapped by Irish pirates & carried away to slavery. Taken to Western Ireland, his master set him to work to feed the pigs. In a few years he managed to escape on a boat that was trading Irish Wolfhounds that was sold in France. Landed in France, he made his way to monastery to claim protection after his adventures. During his years of education at Tours & Auxerre, he kept in his mind & his prayers the wild Irish who had captured him, their ignorance, & their rough & heathen life. He was determined that, with God’s help, he would return & teach them the truth.

Ordained to be a Bishop, with a band of volunteers to be his companions, he landed a second time on the coast of Ireland. The heathen belief of the Irish, with Spirits of earth & water, field & forest everywhere among them, was a form of worship of the sun, with fire, as symbol of the presence of the sun on earth. Tara was the central shrine; the home of the High Priest, the fortress of the High King. On one day of the year every fire must be put out; no glimmer of light must be allowed until at night, with awe & incantation, priests kindled a new flame on the altar of the sun, the all-powerful God. From the altar, torches were lit in the hands of swift runners, who sped among the country rekindling the fires on every hearth, while the King at Tara held high festival.

Patrick & his companions came to Tara on this night. On the hill beyond the town they lit a great fire that went leaping into the darkness. The Irish rushed towards them for vengeance on those who had dared risk the anger of their gods; ready to throw the strangers onto the flames. Patrick stood waiting; a great cross held besides him showed clearly against the blaze. He called aloud to the angry throng. They held back – they quietened, they listened. So great was his influence, the King offered the Christians his hospitality. inviting them to tell him more about this different faith. Soon the King, the priests, the people were baptised, the altars were thrown down. Patrick devoted the rest of his life to Ireland, & drew many helpers to him in his task. Under his leadership the Irish became Christians, churches were built, & monasteries with schools throughout the land.

Patrick died about 461, possibly later; he was buried at Down Patrick with greatest reverence. His festival is 17th March commonly known as St. Patrick’s Day. In the years of turmoil when the power of Rome was withdrawn from Western Europe, Ireland isolated, protected by the sea, became a centre of art & learning famous throughout the continent. Among some manuscripts that have been preserved, the Book of Kells is one of the most famous in the world. It is a treasure of beautiful writing, illuminated capitals exquisite miniatures, delicate borders & traceries. The emblem of St. Patrick is not a cross, because he was not murdered for his faith; the symbol known as St.Patreick’s Cross, red slanting on a white background, is the badge of an order of knighthood, created in his name long after his death. Accounts of the life of St. Patrick give various details; one is that he was a modest man who wrote little about himself.

Our flag three crosses showet, the third slants white & red.

It stands for good St. Patrick, in scotland born ’tis said.

He gave his life for Ireland, he lies ‘neath Irish sod,

& now his cross reminds us to win the world of God.

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Who are we to seek Judgment ~ Judgement was made on behalf of the poor victim โœŒ๏ธ

A Perth prison is under fire for not doing enough to stop baby killer and torturer Mervyn Bell from killing himself. Do you think they should have done more to save him ?

Mervyn Bell kidnapped, tortured, sexually abused and killed his partner’s 10-month-old son over 15 hours in March 2013. Bell was serving a minimum 27 years behind bars when he took his own life in his cell at Casuarina Prison in September 2015. Thatโ€™s the monster we are dealing with here. We just wanted you to know this before continuing.

According to findings handed down on Thursday, Bell revealed to a psychologist in November 2014 that he frequently thought of suicide and mentioned ways he could do it. The same psychologist spoke to him in August 2015 and noted “ongoing vague, fluctuating suicidal ideation” but Bell denied any intent or plan.

Just before his death, Bell left a voicemail message for his sister saying goodbye but the call was not monitored because he was, at the time, not regarded as being at imminent risk of self-harm. “For that reason, several other messages and one call made by Mr Bell in the week prior to his death, in which he clearly indicated suicidal ideation, were not detected,” coroner Michael Jenkin said.

We hope the Coroner did as thorough an investigation into the death of the little 10 month old baby boy Bell murdered.

The findings also revealed that Bell had complained that an officer swore at him and abused him, while his family was concerned he had been shackled when he made telephone calls, which they said would have been degrading.

Does his family not know that he murdered and tortured a 10 month old baby boy ? He โ€œdegradedโ€ himself the day he chose to torture and murder a baby boy.

They also expressed concern that two of his relatives, who were inmates in the same jail, were refused permission to visit him in the special handling unit. There were no records of Bell being restrained or of any prisoners asking to visit him.

Bell’s sentencing judge described the case as one of the most evil he had encountered and here we are holding inquests into his suicide, hearing from his family members who are in the same prison as him, complaining that they are not allowed to see one of the most evil men his sentencing judge had encountered. Yes, this is clearly a good way to spend tax payer dollars.

The inquest looked at a spate of recent suicides at the prison. 5 deaths recently were by suicide and of those 4 of them were by hanging, with Jenkin concluding that authorities at the West Australian prison had not done enough to remove an obvious means for inmates to take their own lives.

Jenkin said in his findings handed down on Thursday it was not acceptable that only about 40 per cent of cells at the facility have had hanging points minimised.

“The department should increase the number of ligature-minimised cells available at the prison without delay, and cells routinely used to house vulnerable prisoners ought to be prioritised,” Jenkin said.

He noted that in 2008, the then state coroner called for an ongoing review of hanging points and funding to achieve their removal. “I hope that the department will now make this issue an absolute priority,” Jenkin said.

It was the subject of one of eight recommendations, which included a triage system whereby all vulnerable, new prisoners are reviewed by a mental health professional within 24 hours of arriving. Now that is a recommendation we can get behind here at FACAA, mental health is everyoneโ€™s problem, even that of prisons.

However, should it be up to prisons to stop convicted child torturers and killers from taking their own lives ?
Is it wrong to think that he did the state a favour ?

No, I donโ€™t think itโ€™s wrong to say that, the fact is Mervyn Bell was an absolute monster. A total waste of space on this planet. He offers absolutely nothing to society that makes keeping him alive worthwhile. Simply put, he should have been taken out the moment he was convicted of torturing a 10 month old baby boy for 15 HOURS !

The fact is he would have never been rehabilitated, he would have forever been a threat to children everywhere and when he got out, he would have probably struck again so by killing himself he protected the children of Perth.

All he was doing behind bars was costing tax payers money, I donโ€™t think what he did was a bad thing nor do I think the coroner should be wasting tax payers funds by holding inquests into his suicide. He wanted to die, he died . Simpleโ€ฆ. inquest over.

The question Iโ€™d love you to answer FACAA is this, is it up to prisons to stop child killers from taking their own lives ? Do prisons have a responsibility to protect child killers from suicide ? What do you think, my thoughts are quite clear but we want to know what you think.

As far as Iโ€™m concerned child murderers do not deserve to live, with capital punishment off the table in Australia we believe in files being marked โ€œNever to be releasedโ€ but do we owe those child killers a duty of care to save them from themselves ? I donโ€™t believe so.

Rest in peace little Charlie, while youโ€™re flying high in heaven your killer has now taken his rightful place much further south. We hope this brings you peace.

FACAA #ProudFACAA #WA #WAPOL #WAPolice #WAPrisons #MervynBell #Suicide #WhatMoreCouldBeDone #GuardiansOfTheInnocent #VoiceForTheVoiceless #HopeForTheHopeless #ChildrensChampions #EndingChildAbuse #RaisingAwareness #ChangingLives #HealingSurvivors #ChangingLaws #Legal #Law #LegalReform #JuliasJustice #PhoenixProgram #WeWillFight #StandUp #FromHellWeRise #JamiesGuardians

https://7news.com.au/news/wa/perth-prison-didnt-stop-the-suicide-of-convicted-baby-killer-mervyn-bell-coroner-finds-c-141240

stice will be done. Who are we to judge whether or not?

Canโ€™t live with them or without them ๐Ÿ•บ

“CAN’T LIVE WITH-‘EM!” a poem, a.k.a.: “Welcomes Husband Home!”

“Men and women are doomed to fail!”
Said Jesus Christ, over-a-pint-of-ale!
“They always fight – and-they’re-on-each-other’s-case,
And, once a gal gets her house, She-wants-Him out-o’-the-place!”

“Men MUST[?] always go on, searching for another,
Conquest! and-He’s always under cover,
Hiding the fact – that he’s a man with ‘drives,’
And-a-REAL-man must-have about at-least 9 lives!”

“For, just today, my-wife-Sharon SHOT at me!!!
I had to run – away! I had to flee;
So, I hightailed it HERE, to have a drink!
The-last-words-I-remember: ‘J-BOY, YOU STINK!’ “

So! There we were, disciples ALL,
With Jesus Christ! who had the gall?!
To tell us – we should just give up,
‘Cause our marriages-are-doomed! “Pour another cup!”

“More fine ale,” Jesus said, to Delores,
“The Barmaid of Maids,” who [regularly] listens-to our chorus,
Of: “Woe is me!” and “I am hated –
By THE woman to-whom I-AM mated!”

Yet, Wise-Delores-knows, when the sun goes down,
And, when it comes back up, the biggest frown,
Is found on the face – of a woman without a man!
Oh, sure! IT’S NOT EASY! but-even-The-Great-I-AM,
Knows that His wife Sharon – will be there pretty soon,
Because she REALLY – loves her J-Jay, who’s-a-big-goon,
And – SO IT’S BEEN – FOREVER AND A DAY
Eventually! Differences – will-melt a-way! ๐Ÿ™‚ – Whew!

fin <3

And if the cat got pregnant, yes I did that too ๐Ÿ˜‚

Starting over again ~ oh my goodness gracious heโ€™s lovely ๐Ÿ†

“IT’S TIME TO START OVER; IT’S NEVER TOO LATE!” a poem June 8, 2019 (Saturday)

“It’s time again! It’s time again! Time-t’-listen-to-me-moan!

I got a lotta problems! My weight is 20 stone!

My neck is stiff, I want some ‘sweets,” (pause) and-my-back-is-awfully-sore!

I don’t-like-the-neighbor’s-doggie, and I’ve-got-a so much more!”

“Before you go-on, Dear Sweetie, could-I-ask a little favor?

Could you please undress, for I love your skin; it’ll-sweeten-up- the-‘flavor,’

Of-all-these-‘well-known-complaints’ you’re-about to-‘lay-on the table!’ “

“Well, heck-a-no, you silly man, I’m wearing my rich sable,

And-I’m-not-gonna-smile-either; you’re gonna-HAVE-TO-suffer!

IF I-have-to deal with life, you-of-course-will-have-NO-buffer!”

“But, Honey Pie, why? would-I really wanna-stay,

And listen-to-all-these-complaints if-there isn’t some-little-way,

To sort-of add a-bit-of-enjoyment – into This-Here-Mix?

Otherwise, while you-are (pause) “having your fine KICKS,”

I MUST just-wait and nod my head – silently! [PERHAPS] FOREVER,

Until you finish . . .” “Wait a sec’ now, it’s time for-me to-pull The-Gosh-Darn-LEVER,

On these ‘negotiations!’ You-just stay-put and listen!

I’m-gonna-be FULLY-CLOTHED, while I’m moanin’ and a-hissin’ !”

[The lights dim, and the sweet sound of-a-dove is-heard “in-the-distance,”

As we hear the reverberations – of “Honey Pie’s” in-sistence!]

She looked around! There-was-no-one-there!

She couldn’t understand it! How dare, dare, dare –

Her “sounding post” LEAVE THE SCENE!

She shouted: “You’re rotten! and AWFULLY mean,

To leave from-here – and-leave-me-[all]-alone!

Now! Who’s gonna-listen to-me-AS-I-MOAN!?”

Her words gently echoed – off the wall!

Suddenly, our-heroine – began to-bawl,

Recalling:-she’d-sent-her-husband to-an-early-grave,

Perhaps 10 years earlier! Still, she-would-rant-and-rave,

And imagine – that “Samuel” was still there at her side,

Perhaps, they-could go-out-that-evening – for an auto ride!

Afterwards, they could return-HOME – and make such pure, sweet love!

But Sam was, obviously! SIMPLY NOT THERE, and a lonesome, snow-white dove,

Pecked upon the window – and coo-ed a little bit,

While-our-hero-ine, with-tears-in-her-eyes, stroked a lonely teat,

And looked up at the ceiling – and wondered-what-had-possessed-her,

To gripe so much at Samuel! (pause) and cause their life to fester!

A-comforting-touch she could have offered! and NOT SO MUCH COMPLAINING!

The dove continued tapping, and then it started raining!

“Maybe if-I’d-been sweeter-and-somewhat-more-understanding!

Sam would still be here-with-me, and we’d-have-a-Happy-[A]Ending!”

She opened up the window, and a-wet-dove-came-gently-in!

And nestled there within her heart, and-COO-ed: “Let’s start again!”

fin <3

What a wonderful world

Coffee ves. Poets Heads and minds. Wisdom ยฉ

“UNDOING THE NIGHTMARE!?” a poem June 8, 2019 (Saturday)

Life can be a nightmare! TURN IT ALL A-ROUND!

Say: “O. M. G.! The-Mystic-Poet! He is who I’ve found!!!

He has made my life – in-to-wine and sweet-a-cheeses!

All my monsters? They’re-SUBDUED! He’s kinda like-a Jesus!

Jesus Christ! My dream – has suddenly brightened-UP;

I’m sitting in a coffee shop, with-an-espresso in my cup!

The Poet is a-there, a-cooin!’ a-cooin’-in my ear!

Hay, now! Stop-that, Mr.-Wise-Guy! That’s MY-under – wear!”

[An aside:] {But, as he takes it off, with such eager charm,

I-guess-I-needn’t-have-had such-tra-a-gic alarm!

Oh, my! How nice! Coffee-and-a-cuddle!

Yummy, yummy! Yeah, but-He’s-not-very-subtle!}

fin? <3

Does the trick every time

This poet is John Keats! He-lived ’til-about-25,

And wrote some stuff about death; then, suddenly-he-wasn’t-alive!

He was-what-you-call-a-dreamer, but, of course, most poets are!

I think he dreams from Heaven now, sitting upon a star!

You ask, was he an-underwear-man-too! I gotta say, “I don’t know!”

John Keats

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Painting: “ZEN MOO: OUTSIDE BUILDING 98, MARFA, TEXAS”

An origami cow stands on the fence, as we look in the direction of the famed Chinati Foundation in Marfa, Texas, U. S. A. "Building 98," or Fort D. A. Russell, is the headquarters for The International Woman's Federation and is "next door" to "Chinati!" Tours are available to see fascinating designs and shows, including The Room of ART, created by German prisoner-of-war officers, who were housed here during World War II and allowed to do murals on some of the interior walls. Tour Times: Thursday - Saturday, 1:30 - 5:30 P. M. or by appointment! Phone: 432-729-1852.

$50.00

PicsArt_12-15-09.42.12.jpg
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