Do Cats Go To Heaven

Do Cats Go to Heaven?

A cat dies and goes to Heaven. God meets him at the gate and says, “You have been a good cat all of these years. Anything you desire is yours, all you have to do is ask.”

The cat says, “Well, I lived all my life with a poor family on a farm and had to sleep on hardwood floors.”God says,
“Say no more.” And instantly, a fluffy pillow appears.

A few days later, 6 mice are killed in a tragic accident and they go to Heaven. God meets them at the gate with the
same offer that He made the cat. The mice said, “All our lives we’ve had to run. Cats, dogs and even women with
brooms have chased us. If we could only have a pair of roller skates, we wouldn’t have to run anymore.”

God says, “Say no more.” And instantly, each mouse is fitted with a beautiful pair of tiny roller skates.

About a week later, God decides to check and see how the cat is doing. The cat is sound asleep on his new pillow.
God gently wakes him and asks, “How are you doing?
Are you happy here?”

The cat yawns and stretches and says, “Oh, I’ve never been happier in my life. And those Meals on Wheels you’ve been sending over are the best!”

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Raising Turkeys

Written By: Gary Wonning

After we started raising turkeys, the manure which is rich in nitrogen and smells of ammonia, greatly enhanced the soil. As a result, the corn yield increased to around a hundred bushels per acre. That was quite an improvement from the early years.

The young chick turkeys were housed inside until they were about four months old. The houses they were living in were equipped with wire flooring so the droppings could fall below where they were walking. This made for a very slippery surface and resulted in some interesting situations when it was time to catch them and put them out on range.

The turkeys were caught individually, so there was much slipping and sliding while performing this function. When I got a little older, I was allowed to help, which I thought was big stuff, until one night as I lunged for a turkey, I slipped and only grabbed one of the turkey’s legs. The other leg swung around and the turkey claws made a large gash across my right cheek.

It healed after a time, but for years, every time I exercised a lot and my face became red, the scar would be visible.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

The Old Gas Station

The Old Gas Station

The service station trade was slow.
The owner sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick.
Piled shavings on the ground.

No modern facilities had they,
The log across the rill,
Led to a shack, marked His and Hers,
That sat against the hill.

“Where is the ladies restroom, sir?”
The owner leaning back,
Said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack.

With quickened step she entered there,
But only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed, just like a snake,
Or spider might be in it.

With startled look and beet red face,
She bounded through the door,
And headed quickly for the car.
Just like three gals before.

She missed the foot log — jumped the stream,
The owner gave a shout,
As her silk stockings, down at her knees,
Caught on a sassafras sprout.

She tripped and fell — got up,
and then In obvious disgust,
Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
And faded in the dust.

Of course we all desired to know,
What made the gals all do,
The things they did, and then we found,
The whittling owner knew.

A speaking system he’d devised,
To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall,
Beneath the toilet seat.

He’d wait until the gals got set,
And then the devilish guy,
Would stop his whittling long enough,
To speak into the mike.

And as she sat, a voice below,
Struck terror, fright and fear,
“Will you please use the other hole,
We’re painting under here.

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for

over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape

photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States,

as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as

the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the

opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

 

Two Cows

Two Cows

Democrat:

You have two cows. Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
You vote people into office that put a tax on your cows, forcing you to sell one to raise money to pay the tax.

The people you voted for then take the tax money, buy a cow and give it to your neighbor.
You feel righteous.
Barbara Streisand sings for you.

Socialist:

You have two cows. The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor.
You form a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.

Republican:

You have two cows. Your neighbor has none.
So?

Communist:

You have two cows. The government seizes both and provides you with milk.
You wait in line for hours to get it.
It is expensive and sour.

Capitalism, American Style:

You have two cows. You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.

Democracy, American Style:

You have two cows. The government taxes you to the point you have to sell both to support a man in a foreign country who has only one cow, which was a gift from your government.

Bureaucracy, American Style:

You have two cows. The government takes them both, shoots one, milks the other, pays you for the milk, and then pours the milk down the drain.

American Corporation:

You have two cows. You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the second one.
You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. You are surprised when one cow drops dead. You spin an announcement to the analysts stating you have downsized and are reducing expenses.
Your stock goes up.

French Corporation:

You have two cows. You go on strike because you want three cows.
You go to lunch.
Life is good.

Japanese Corporation:

You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary
cow and produce twenty times the milk.
They learn to travel on unbelievably crowded trains.
Most are at the top of their class at cow school.

German Corporation:

You have two cows. You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer,
give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year. 

Italian Corporation:

You have two cows but you don’t know where they are.
While ambling around, you see a beautiful woman.
You break for lunch.
Life is good.

Russian Corporation:

You have two cows. You have some vodka.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You have some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
The Mafia shows up and takes over however many
cows you really have.

Taliban Corporation:

You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two.
You don’t milk them because you cannot touch any creature’s private parts. Then you kill them and claim a US bomb blew
them up while they were in the hospital.

Polish Corporation:

You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.

Florida Politics:

You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who like the brown one best, vote for the black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can’t figure out how to vote at all.
Finally, a bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which is the best-looking one. 

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Neighborhood Politics

photo of a distinguished older gentleman

Wisdom lost through the ages, common sense is no longer common.

Neighborhood Politics

During a neighborhood party here, I got into an argument with my neighbor about presidential politics.

Finally, he asked me why I was such a dedicated Republican.

I told him that my Father and Grandfather were Republicans before me and that I was carrying on the family tradition.

“That’s it ?” said my exasperated neighbor. “What if your Father and Grandfather had been horse thieves ?”

“Well…” I replied, “I suppose then I’d be in the other major political party with you.”

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

School Voice Mails

photo of tiny church

Tiny Church on Half Moon Cay

We have employed a new voice mail system and would like the staff to have knowledge of how it operates.
When you are dialing school, please call______________.

You will then be answered by a cheery voice from us that will give you a menu of options to meet your needs.

These are:

To lie about why your child is absent Press 1
To make excuses for why your child did not do his work Press 2
To complain about what we do Press 3
To cuss out staff members Press 4
To ask why you didn’t get needed information that was in your newsletter and several bulletins mailed to you Press 5
If you want us to raise your child Press 6
If you want to reach out and touch, slap or hit someone Press 7
If you really have an emergency, dial 9-1-1 because all these other
lines will be busy.

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Christmas Shopping

Written By: Gary Wonning

In those days, living in the country as we did, there were no large department stores nearby. I don’t remember ever being in a large store until I was in my teens.

Therefore, our Christmas shopping was out of a Sears and Roebuck catalog. I couldn’t wait until the Christmas catalog arrived in mid-October and would anxiously shuffle through it to find things Santa could bring. Of course, I was always threatened, if I misbehaved, Santa would bring a lump of coal, It seemed there was always someone we knew would get lumps of coal on Christmas morning instead of presents.

Relive live life in the fifties

photo fo two people, a child and an adult looking at a sunset over the ocean

Life was a lot slower and simpler in the fifties and sixties.

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

photo of the Pilons

The Pilons, historic landmark in St. Lucia