I mean, some parts are funny, like when the gates to the outside kennels were all frozen shut so to clean them, I had to crawl through the kennel doors. I got my fat ass stuck: my hands were lower than the rest of me, my ass was stuck, my hands were in shit and piss, and I started crying and then laughing so hard because the dog in the kennel was jumping on my head and licking me.
And the group of pups I will never forget – they came from a shelter that I caught heartsticking the dogs without anesthesia. Roberson, North Carolina. The monster who ran it, Jeff Bass, was also eventually caught selling dogs for experiments and keeping the money for himself. They would kill the dog as soon as someone said they were coming to get it for rescue and pour bleach right over the dogs to clean the cages.
Anyway, Chipper, the ugliest pup I have ever seen, like an ugly greyhound, Rags, a sweet little doll girl, and an ugly brown pit pup, Gabe, somehow got out because of me. They were the sweetest pups ever, all about 5 months, an age that usually gets killed. Not cute fuzzies anymore. And they would play and run in my kennel, and I would go down there and sit on the couch we had in there, and hug them and laugh and cry as they jumped all over me. Even now, I wonder, Why? Why were they the lucky ones to get out when tens of thousands were killed there in horror? I cry as I sit here and write this, so so grateful that they got out and so heartbroken for those who didn’t, and those who still don’t. So confused about the mysteries of life like why I live here and why others are born under a bridge in India? And praying that there is a reason, because if there isn’t, I don’t know that I can live in such a cruel world.
The only things that bring me peace are being in nature, being with my kids and creating. Between my family and dog rescue, I have some pretty deep scars.
This is why I don’t write about it. It’s locked in there. I don’t think I’m strong enough to take it all out yet. The ones who died in my hands. The ones I missed. So damn painful; it still is, which is why I still donate my time and money to dog rescue. I can’t do active rescue much anymore. The pain is too much for me. But I try to help others who can.