Sometimes I look at the statistics of who, if anyone, might be visiting my ill-tended little blog, and today looking at the details of one individual who stopped in here by accident left me feeling a little sickened. This person had been directed to Barbiturate Bimbos via Google by employing the following search words: homemade euthanasia cocktail for dogs.
This does not portend good things, folks. It's just plain bad. I love my dogs. I love dogs in general. I'm a touchy feely animal lover. I don't want to think about nefarious dog killers even taking a glimpse of my blog . . .it sullies my cyber aura. So, in the figurative tradition of taking a pill to make the pain go away, I've created a little alternative explanation so that I can feel a less creeped out. It goes something like this: Someone has a dog with a terminal illness. They're low on funds because they've already spent oodles of cash on treatments that didn't cure their pet, and now, well, they are turning to google for a painful solution. Understandable, right? (Except for the part about how only someone with a little medical knowledge and access to appropriate chemical compounds would be able to achieve a humane euthanasia, which hints at torture rather than euthanasia, which by in Greek means "to die well").
But wait. I've brought this on myself. Barbiturate Bimbos . . . sodium pentothal . . . euthanasia . . . see where I'm going with this? This is what you get for dabbling in the dark arts or the perverse fun of laughing up the shadowy underbelly of the macabre stuff around us all the time. Sooner or later it becomes more serious, more concrete. Sooner or later it's no longer a joke . . .
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