The Gaza War: So much for “operation” Cast Lead—this is now starting to look more like a war, as we get a barrage of Ketushas in Nahariya on Thursday morning, and already get our emergency instructions from city hall. I get several phone calls and SMS alerts and for the rest of the day we go into “twitch” mode, expecting to hear the sirens at any moment. But it stays quiet in Karmiel.
While the world oozes compassion for plight of the Palestinians in Gaza, no one seems to think it untenable that Israeli cities are being constantly pelted by everything from small mortars, Qassam rockets, and even big Grad missiles. Why is it so unthinkable that we would strike back? And yes, I feel sorry for the Gazans who do not support Hamas (all two dozen of them), didn’t vote for them, and object to their thuggish behavior and violent take-over of Gaza, including whole-scale murderof Fatah opponents. I feel sorry for the little kids who must be scared by the noise and commotion. But I am well aware of the extraordinary measures that the IDF employs to minimize civilian casualties. Pretty hard to take out missile sites when Hamas uses human shields. Meanwhile, the sirens are still going off in Ashkelon, where more rockets fell this morning. So much for the cease-fire, eh?
And why did we reject the UN so-called Gaza resolution? Well, it is a bunch of nice “let’s all be friends” blah-blah that doesn’t buy us anything. Doesn’t get us Shalit back. Doesn’t get Hamas to say that they will stop all rocket fire into Israel.
Woo-woo Doggy: Terri finally meets Woo-Woo Doggy face-t0-face. WWD is what I dubbed a large, goofy Boxer that lives along the walking trail. WWD stands there and says, “Woo-woo! Woo-woo!” in a voice more suited to a tiny lap dog. She’s at the park with her human, a young Russian guy, and another family dog. There are also a bunch of other dogs, including Snoopy, a very plump Dalmatian with her human, Boris. While Terri plays frantically with all her friends, Boris and I discuss politics.
By the time we get home, Terri is so muddy that I have to pop her into the bathtub. She stands there, looking unbelievably sad and pathetic, while I wash off all the mud.
Bad joke of the day: (Hat tip to DW.) Eleven people—ten men and one woman—were hanging on a rope under a helicopter. The rope was not strong enough to carry them all, so they decided that one had to let go, otherwise they were all going to fall. They were unable to choose that person until the woman gave a very touching speech. She said that she would voluntarily let go of the rope, because, as a woman, she was used to giving up everything for her husband and kids and men in general, and was used to always making sacrifices with little in return. As soon as she finished her speech, all the men started clapping.
Nadine update: My poor little dumpling, once the best bed cat in the whole world, is now an angular sack of bones. Not very cuddly, but she still wants to be close to me under the covers all night long. She emerges a few times a day to drink water, wander around, and, if coaxed, lick a tiny bit of tuna juice. So sad.