My two cents on the Dolphin Killer

by Albert Nuel Navarrete

I was supposed to make a blog in response to a post by Rand Fishkin about whether or not you are pushing your team too hard. But I just couldn't collect my thoughts because of this news I got about a person/people killing dolphins off the U.S. Gulf Coast. This is a barbaric act, one that has no end other than the pleasure of a crazed and deranged person. Dolphins usually interact peacefully with humans. I tried searching the internet for cases wherein dolphin attacks have actually killed people, but I found myself empty handed in the end. Yes, they do attack people occasionally, but never in such a manner that one has actually endangered the life of a human being. Which leads me to question the sanity of the person committing these crimes. According to the Hare Psychopathy Checklist Revised, a diagnostic tool used to assess psychopathy, here are some of the symptoms of psychotic behavior:

Factor 1: Personality "Aggressive narcissism"

• Glibness/superficial charm
• Grandiose sense of self-worth
• Pathological lying
• Cunning/manipulative
• Lack of remorse or guilt
• Shallow affect (genuine emotion is short-lived and egocentric)
• Callousness; lack of empathy
• Failure to accept responsibility for own actions

Of the symptoms listed, I would like to point out two that are particularly relevant in this matter: (a) lack of remorse or guilt; and (b) callousness or lack of empathy. From what we have seen so far, it is quite clear that the perpetrator of these crimes is capable of inflicting great harm against animals without remorse. Some dolphins were found with multiple gunshot wounds. Others were found in worse conditions. One was found cut repeatedly and severely. One got washed up at Perdido Bay, Florida, with a screwdriver driven deep into its head. Another was found at Dauphin Island, Alabama missing its tail. There was even one that had its jaw cut off. According to investigators, none of the parts that have been taken from these dolphins are of any value whatsoever.

 

A victim of the 'dolphin killer.'

Photo lifted from the Huffington Post.

Authorities are considering the theory that the perpetrator might be a 'thrill seeker' who is getting a 'kick' out of killing dolphins. If that is the case, they better act fast. As of the latest reports, a total of seven dolphins have been found dead. It is highly plausible that the thrill of killing dolphins is wearing off for the criminal by now. The perpetrator might look for other means to satiate the hunger to kill, at which point, it becomes a much more fatal situation because he or she might turn to objects that are at a closer proximity: humans. There is reason to believe such a proposition based on the components of the Macdonald Triad, which consists of three behavioral traits often exhibited by violent offenders. As proposed in the American Journal of Psychiatry, the three behavioral traits are animal cruelty, obsessive behavior towards fire-setting, and frequent bedwetting beyond five years old. Although studies have failed to find enough proof connecting serial killers to this set of traits, some serial killers have exhibited at least one or two of these behaviors.

If the authorities don't find a way to resolve the matter in a timely manner, there are only two scenarios that are likely to surface: (a) the criminal continues to kill dolphins, thus endangering the fragile marine ecology along the Gulf Coast; or (b) the criminal turns his/her attention towards other objects that are in closer proximity, thus endangering the local community. Either way, he/she is a threat that must be put to justice soon.

Lt. Col. Claude Pittman, an officer of the Mississippi Department of Marine Resources who patrols the area of the killings, said in an interview with CNN that he had not witnessed a case where a dolphin had been shot in his 22 years of service. This recent spate of killings are worrying, he says.

"You don't know what type of person is doing this," he said to CNN. "Would they carry it any further? I have no idea."

Having a Pet: A Realization

by Albert Nuel Navarrete

I realized something today: taking care of a pet is a lot like parenthood. You see, I have a pet dog. She's a Labrador-Rottweiler mix I got from a friend in my office that I named Derpina (yes, she's 9gag-inspired like that). I got her a few weeks after her mother gave birth to her and her siblings in January. Yes, she's turning a year old a month from now, and she's changed so much ever since she came into my life.

Here she was when I first got her. 

Sleeping on my lap, on the sofa in our living room (d'aaaaaww).

Here she was a few months after, 

when beaubie and I brought her to UP for the first time. :)

I saw her turn from a small pup barely able to walk around on her own to a full-grown dog just barely a year after. When she was a little puppy, she used to run around the house, chasing after this rubber ball we gave her for hours on end. She loved drinking milk, more so peeing afterwards, and she was seemingly tireless, up until the moment she actually sat down on a rag we put down for her in the living room, which worked as her sleeping quarters. We tried making her sleep on a makeshift sleeping basket made out of an actual egg basket and some cloth, but she preferred sleeping on the floor, with her head resting on the lower shelf of our dining room coffee table. In the morning, when she woke up, she'd continue running around and pooping everywhere - typical doggie. 

She used to wake me up in the middle of the night with her little whines and whimpers, and she'd stand on her two hind legs to lick my face as I slept on the sofa. So I'd pick her up and place her beside me. After a few minutes, she'd fall asleep, with her head resting on my stomach or my chest. I didn't realize it then, but it dawned on me just now that she was actually like a little baby, waking you up in the wee hours of the morning and sleeping only when she felt like she was safe and warm and comforted. I had to look after her because she might creep between a bundle of wires, or get too close to an electric socket. I had to be constantly in the lookout for her because she was so small and brown that it would be all too easy for anyone to step on her and hurt her. 

Once she started eating solid food, I had to rush out and go to the market when supplies ran out, even if I haven't had a wink of sleep, and I just came home after working 12 hours in the office (mind you, I am working the night shift too). I've since worked out my measly, yuppie-grade monthly budget to include her dog food because I'm responsible for feeding her dribble-filled mouth. And now that's she's much bigger, I've also taken to the tremendously taxing task of giving her a bath, albeit usually with the help of my beaubie, and occasionally, my little brother. Just to give you an idea of how big she is now, here's a pic:

Our princess with her mommy. :)

She's a tad heavier now, and she's so much stronger. When beaubie and I try to walk her, we end up having to hold the chain together because she lurches forward with so much strength that she could overpower anyone if caught by surprise. She jumps so high now that she can practically lick our faces when she does. And when she stands on her hind legs now, she's nothing like the little puppy that used to lick me in the face while I was asleep, at least physically. She stands almost as tall as a little kid now, with her head reaching up to my chest. I remember, I usually got surprised every time I got home from work because she seemingly grew a few inches overnight. She has stopped growing, or at least it's slowed down a bit. But she's still every  little bit of the small, timid puppy we first brought home. She's still playful, still energetic, still youthful, still loving. Inside, we know she's still a baby, our baby. 

And after I fed her tonight, while rubbing the soft tuft of fur under her neck as she rested her paw on my knee, I realized she's teaching me something - she's teaching me how to be a father. How to be responsible. How to be loving and caring and strict and disciplined. She's teaching me how it feels to worry about your child when you're uncertain of her safety. She's teaching me how to manage my money, how to bring a child to the doctor for shots, and how it feels to actually comfort a baby after one. She's teaching me the joys of seeing a loved one grow beautifully and in good health. She's teaching me that life isn't just about me and what I want. It's also about family and taking care of those you love most. It doesn't matter that I earn a mediocre salary, or that I feel like a trainwreck coming home from work. When she sees me, SHE MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I'M THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD. She'd wag her tail and jump around. She'd snuggle tightly and lick my face. She doesn't care if I had body odor, or if my breath reeked from stale saliva. She does everything to make you feel that she loves you with an unconditional love.

Beaubie and I usually wonder how long we'd be able to keep her. Our wish is that she'd be able to play with our kids someday, along with other dogs in a house we'd own in Bicol province. We know dog years run faster than human years, and that at some point, we'd probably lose her (my hope is of old age). But for now, we're thankful we have her. And my only prayer is that I'd be able to let her feel the love that she makes me feel - UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.

Princess Derpina. :)

“Dogs, lives are short, too short, but you know that going in. You know the pain is coming, you're going to lose a dog, and there's going to be great anguish, so you live fully in the moment with her, never fail to share her joy or delight in her innocence, because you can't support the illusion that a dog can be your lifelong companion. There's such beauty in the hard honesty of that, in accepting and giving love while always aware that it comes with an unbearable price. Maybe loving dogs is a way we do penance for all the other illusions we allow ourselves and the mistakes we make because of those illusions.” 

― Dean Koontz, The Darkest Evening of the Year