Twenty-Seven Days

I’ve been home from the emergency rescue transport for a little more than twenty-four hours. It was a grueling trip. I’ve mostly slept since and tried to recuperate. That amount of driving would be hard on anyone, but battling lupus the way I do, it really took my feet out from under me.

I don’t regret stepping in to help. Not at all. I’m very lucky to have the ability to take downtime and recover. But make no mistake--I feel every mile in my body today, even after more than eighteen hours of rest.

I do think mood and emotion affect us, though, sometimes as much as physical stress. For years I’ve been walking a fine line between being extremely vocal about animal welfare hypocrisy and keeping my mouth shut about certain things. Once my plane lands in France, however, the rules change. There will no longer be anything left in Southwest Virginia to threaten me with, whether my own health and safety, that of my animals, or property damage. I will be gone, untouchable. And the gloves will come off.

About an hour ago, photos landed in my inbox of a truly appalling situation. Another Virginia rescuer was arrested today on multiple counts of animal neglect and cruelty (I don’t know all the charges or their specifics, but I know her arrest is fact.) She has been active in rescue as long as I have or perhaps longer and is a vocal presence on Facebook. At this point I won’t identify who she is or name her rescue. But I will show you a photo or two. And you’ll see why I feel sick now, despite resting for almost an entire day.

I feel for the animals who had to live in this. I do. Truly. But I’m also reminded of yet another “rescuer” who had it in for me since “helping” with an adoption event a few years ago. Even though she never set foot inside my house or saw how the animals actually live, she went on a tear about them having “no toys to play with,” which is ridiculous because we’re piled to the ceiling with dog toys. She also criticized my adoption event and my volunteers quite heavily. Oddly enough, this same “rescuer” has been an advocate and supporter of the group responsible for the living conditions shown in these photos. It also appears that she’s coming to their defense on social media...God help me to stay silent for twenty-seven more days. I have soooo much I want to say about so many things.

There is a whole universe of shit wrong with the sheltering and rescue industry--it’s highly unregulated and filled to the brim with incompetency. Over and over I’ve seen good rescuers hung out to dry, marginalized, diminished, and excoriated by unqualified shelter staff and inexperienced “advocates” who hide behind a name or association that makes them look important. I’m sick of it. I’ve had enough. People in my part of the world may think that when my rescue closes, my mouth will do the same. I have news for them. Once I drive away from Southwest Virginia for the last time, I will have nothing left to lose by turning on all the lights as I go. It’s time for change in the animal sheltering and advocacy world, and I intend to do my part explaining why.

cover image source

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Other Posts in this Series

Forty Days
Thirty-Nine Days
Thirty-Eight Days
Thirty-Seven Days
Thirty-Six Days
Thirty-Five Days
Thirty-Three Days
Thirty-Two Days
Thirty-One Days
Thirty Days