Our Danish contributor, Jes Rasmussen, wrote for the April edition of the Seaside Gazette, printed copy, about the arrival of refugees... with their pets.
In my medium size city of Kolding in the southern part of Denmark, we are raiding supermarkets and pet suppliers, emptying their stores of food-pellets for pets, sand for cat toilets and toys for canary birds.
Luckily, the Russians are not coming – just yet – but the Ukrainians are.
We’re glad to welcome the refugees from the cruel war, give them food and clothes and things for their pets, and they’re safe and sheltered here by the thousands and thousands. We are happy to help, and I guess they are pretty happy, too, con- sidering the circumstances.
Only I’ve never seen refugees carrying pets before.
There were no Afghan hounds, the last time refugees were raiding our borders. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for helping people, pets or no pets, from other nations in distress, we might even do better. Especially regarding the Syrian and Afghan refugees, who didn’t quite meet the same warm welcome, that the Ukrainians do. Not even the Afghan interpreters and others who helped the Danish army during their – very long and not very successful stationing and fighting in Afghanistan.
The Danish government, I think, feels more sympathy for our neighbours’ neighbours, white skinned and Christian, than for war victims from the Middle East.
Never mind: You are more than welcome, Ukrainians; your pets too.
Wish we could do more to help you and your country against The Abominable Snowman from the East. Many things are happening these last few years, that I never thought I should see: a worldwide pandemic, isolating people in their homes; a terrorist regime attacking a sovereign European nation, killing its civilians, bombing their houses.
So, welcome, Ukrainians, welcome Ukrainian pets; go home, Putin, Hijo de Putin. If we have to let the Ukrainians do the fighting on their own, for fear of a next World War, we can at least take the refugee civilians in and sanction, boycott, hate and turn our backs on the mad new Tzar and his oligarchs placed all over the world; in luxury mansions in London on enormous billion-dollar cruisers in marinas in Spain, Italy and France, football and bike-racing teams all over Europe. Go home, oligarchs.
No more vodka for this old Viking, no more black Russian tea, no more caviar (never tasted it, but still). This old Viking’s bread will be baked not with Russian wheat, I’ll stay warm not with Russian heat. I’ll watch some other nation’s ballet troupe dance. I’ve even stopped playing Russian Roulette at home Friday nights. Might live a few years longer, then.
Editorial note: we continue with our new policy of reproducing the feature articles from the paper edition of the Seaside Gazette here, online, around a month after the mag was distributed on the streets. This is so that our readers outside the distribution area can also enjoy these feature articles – Martin.
(Feature: Danish Corner/Jes Rasmusen)