Never Forgotten

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Last night one of our rescue dogs passed away suddenly.  Major was an old timer with a sweet soul.  He was a GOOD boy.  He could hit a ball right back to you with his nose.  He was intelligent, but goofy when he wanted to be. I only had a very short time with him, but I wish I had more.

His passing left me tossing and turning all night long.  He reminded me of all the others that have been lost.  I cried for them, for their foster families that cared and nurtured them, and for each beautiful soul that was abandoned by the only family they’ve ever known.

Major reminded me that I had been part of a wonderful cause, a unit of women bound and determined to save lives and not allow these dogs to die in the shelter, but in someone’s arms who guided them to a better place where there was no pain.  I will always be involved in rescue in some form or fashion, and that is something I will take with me when it is my time.

Major made me cry for the inevitable.  I wanted seniors, and here they are, living and thriving in my home. Some not so much, though.  I know their days are numbered.  I know that day will come, and I know it will have to be me that does it.  My mind knows, but my heart looks the other way, because the thought hurts too much.

How do you keep moving forward when you lose your family dog/cat?  How do you walk by their beds and bowls and toys?  How do you stop crying, when you could swear you heard them bark or whine, or their steps in the hall?  How do you fill that emptiness after they are gone?

I asked my friend, why can’t dogs live as long as we do?  Her answer has resonated with me in the most comforting manner.

“Because they will become bitter in life.  They teach us how to love and not to judge”.  Rachel Cameron Bell

*Some of the dogs that have been lost are above* #Rest In Peace

My targeted heart

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First, let me start by saying this….this blog is not about any one person, or any one particular situation. This is a series of events throughout my lifetime.

I’m not looking for sympathy, and I am not breaking out my violin or breaking into a tearful song. I am merely admitting the fact that I am way too sensitive. And this is why.

My childhood was abusive, up until my grandparents took me in. Many of the memories as a child weight heavily on me today, and they will never let me go.  For this reason, I have an overwhelming need to help others see their own worth.  I gravitate to those who need to hear words of encouragement, support, and I cannot stand to see someone who has lost their way.  This is hugely why I entered into the dog rescue world, and hugely why I will always be involved in the dog rescue world.

This should be a positive, but it is not.  It puts a target on your heart. It puts you in a defensive position. It mostly makes me want to crawl into a hole with just my kids and dogs and never come out.  It makes me want to leave social media forever, and it makes me hesitant to say anything or type anything.

I do feel like a victim, and technically I was as a child, but I hate that persona of playing the victim.  I do not want to be THAT person, bitching and moaning all the time. But you know what?  I am aware. I am aware that I can be, and I wish that wasn’t so.

Why do some feel inclined to walk over me as if I am not there?  I can hear, I can see, and I do have feelings. Being excluded is very isolating. Being verbally hurt by someone that doesn’t know you at all, in your truest form, shouldn’t kill me as much as it does. Being verbally hurt by someone you are close to, or thought you were, is not something I cope with well.

I think that I am a good person. My heart is big, and I have many friends who also have big hearts. I will be the very best friend till the end, but as the expression goes, don’t mistake my tears for weakness. I’ve been through hell and back, and I’m exhausted by people making me feel like I’ve done something wrong. I am always here to help, but I’m done with second chances.

I shake my fist at you, Giraffe!!!

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We get home from a really long day and everyone is trying to relax. Right on cue, I checked the mail, and there was a toy cat that Bailey has been wanting and pining over for weeks. I was in a good place, and took my shower and fed the dogs.

But wow, I should be so lucky, LOL!!  Here it came……Bailey was upset because she couldn’t find the giraffe from her Mouse Trap game. At the time, I didn’t understand why, but somehow her new cat was connected to this mouse trap game. Her dad found most of the pieces, but there was that one “bleepity bleep” giraffe. Boy, did I HATE that giraffe. I looked for the longest time, anywhere and everywhere, while she proceeded to go into her meltdown.  The giraffe was never found, and I ended up taking her to bed earlier than normal to calm her down. Not a great way to end a day, to say the least.

This morning, though, I grudgingly woke up, waiting for the next giraffe storm, only to find Bailey at the table with another giraffe she had found. She was making it work on her own accord, substituting this giraffe for the lost one. She was problem solving!!!

My Bailey, with her creativity, beauty, and her memory like a steel trap…..she is such an Einstein in disguise.  She is on the spectrum, but she is a little girl first and foremost, and last night, she was very sleepy. She is just like any other child that is tired and grumpy. I’m a proud mother.

 

Simplicity

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I’ve never paid attention to my limits.  I’ve been overwhelmed for many years, and yet I kept juggling and taking it all in, even though my cup runneth over.  This is what mothers do, though, right?

Dog rescuing was always in my heart, from day one when I was 7 years old, and my mother and I witnessed her boyfriend shoot my irish setter, Big Red. We also had to watch our german shepard, King, die from poisoning, because we could not get to the truck to get him to a vet. I will never forget my mother and I, screaming and sobbing, and grasping each other.  It’s shame that most of my memories are devastation and loss.  And you know….I could go on and on, but I know that people who don’t know me personally, become uncomfortable when I address my childhood, so I will stop here. Point being, I saw things that a child should never see, but it made me who I am today.  Now I have 6 dogs in my home, and they have a home for life, because that is how it is supposed to be.  They are my family.

At this time in my life, I choose to simplify.  The kids need more from me.  My daughter has spiraled out of control.  My own dogs need more from me. This are true statements, but my heart is broken nonetheless. Rescue is where I belong, and I believe that to my core.  I’m not sure where that is, or will be, or even if I need to stay put on a smaller scale, but I will find my way back once I get my second wind and attend to priorities that should have been priorities all along. Sometimes you have to sit down, and really contemplate what is best for you, and your family.  The struggle is real.

I know what I want and need……I want that warm fuzzy feeling when you save one that captures your heart. I want to save all breeds and all sizes. I will always be committed to making our city a NO KILL city. I will always love and respect my team. For now, though, I am redirecting most of my focus to my family, my sanity, my health.

The worst thing about walking away from something that you love to do, isn’t that you don’t belong to an organization any longer…….it’s about loss, and those friendships that you built and nurtured for years.  At the end of the day, you have to push forward and hope and pray that you find your place in this world, and that those who call you their friend, are still by your side, and still believe in you.

#ILoveRescue #NextChapter