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To be honest, the story of my journey into rescue isn’t very easy for me to write. Like many of the wonderful people that I work with in the animal welfare community, I’ve spent a lifetime loving animals. My childhood was heavily colored with experiences that included a variety of creatures, including ducks, chickens, rabbits, small mammals, cats, and dogs. But I never intended to dedicate my life to helping homeless pets. When I finished my undergraduate degree, I had big plans for my professional future — to go to law school, get a job at a firm, and live a fast paced life of late nights at the office and billing as many hours as possible. I was hungry for work and education and excited about pursuing “Big Law” dreams.
That all changed when I had, what I now refer to, as “My Day Without Dogs”.
Back when I was fresh out of undergrad, working on law school applications, and plotting my future, I bought a house. And even though I couldn’t schedule movers until the following day, I wanted to sleep at my new place right away to get a feel for it. Little did I know that decision would result in a breakdown that would affect the trajectory of the rest of my life. Until that night, I hadn’t given much thought to the role that all animals, but particularly dogs, had played in my day-to-day. My family, college roommates, coworkers and friends all had dogs, which meant that, even though I didn’t have a dog of my own, I still had them around me constantly to keep me company. The day that I closed on my house, June 5th 2015, was the first time I could acutely remember not seeing, petting, holding, cuddling, a SINGLE dog for an ENTIRE day. And although I’m sure that in reality, there have been many dogless days… this one was especially poignant. So that night, camped out on the floor of my empty living room, I cried myself to sleep, knowing that it was not the right time for me to get a dog, but also knowing that I couldn’t live without one in my life. I was in a period of intense change and rapidly evolving plans, so I knew it wasn’t fair to commit to an animal, but I was depressed at the thought that I was so tangibly alone.
The next day, I submitted an application to foster for a local animal rescue . Within a week I had my first foster dog and for a while I suffered under the delusion that animal welfare could be a hobby for me. But nothing really went according to plan from there. A dog I was supposed to foster overnight as a temp, went into early labor and had 8 puppies in my living room. A puppy that was supposed to be adopted, broke with parvo, and, after I fostered him for several weeks of intense illness, ended up being my first foster fail. Time after time, I told myself that I was just doing the “foster thing” temporarily and that I still could have the fancy career that I had envisioned for myself. But it wasn’t long before I got tired of thinking about what my life was supposed to be and realized that I had been blind to the reality that had been staring me in the face all along. Law wouldn’t be my life. I would never have a fancy office and a giant paycheck. I’d have drool on my jeans and pet hair on all my furniture. Now, over 8 years after that fateful night, I’ve lost count of the number of critters that have come through my home although I’d guess it’s somewhere close to 200. I’ve taken orphaned newborn kittens, senior dogs with severe medical conditions, and really everything in between. So when I’m asked about my “journey into rescue”, it’s tough for me to explain, because it honestly boils down to one night. And one flicker of loneliness that sparked a wildfire of passion for pets.
Working in animal welfare isn’t easy or glamorous. It’s grit and grime, heartbreaks and headaches, tears and triumphs. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
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