Passion: strong and barely controllable emotion• a state or outburst of such emotion *an intense desire or enthusiasm for something Yep. that pretty much describes why I am a day late and combining post f0r 47 . Though, it could have truly been the obsession(the state of being obsessed with someone or something• an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind) OF my passion that interfered with my obligations.
A puppy. An abandoned puppy, and the search for her other rejected companions. Lee came to the house and said “A spy cam needed to be set up at the corner, to catch the fools who dump dogs out here.” Then proceeded to tell that he saw four puppies and a chihuahua mix up the road as he drove in. This is the same place we found the puppy, Lucy, and a brown lab, that he now owns. Keith gave me a look and said, ‘No.”
I respected that ‘no, I have no need for another dog. Don’t want one. I have 3 dogs, 4 if you count Evan’s dog I babysit, 2 cats and 2 horses. I started thinking about them: “Maybe they are just a litter that wandered off their property with their chi friend, and happen to be in the area we have found 2 dog’s who now have ‘tags’ purchased by us. Or they were dumped and hungry and this will be a cold night. If they are still there in the A.M. the truck traffic from the caleche pit may kill them. Maybe they will make it to the caleche pit office and they will care for them, as they do often. How little are they? Will the coyotes kill them?” The passion is turning into obsession. Meg comes in with Tanah, they just drove past the same corner, and did not see any pups, but did see a couple of trucks making a u turn up the road. ‘Maybe someone else came and found them. Maybe the dumpers conscience got to them. The text I receive from Lee as he is driving out, about an hour into respecting Keith’s ‘no’, reads ‘1 left.’ I tell Keith then I plead to rescue. He said”, Take your phone.”’ I drive to the corner and see nothing first, then look on the side under a small mesquite and see that piece of trash is a pup. I get out of the car and it does not move. Maybe it is dead, and not the one Lee saw. It must have heard me, it lifts it’s head, then lays it back down. So lost. I reach down cooing ‘Puppy’ which receives a slight whimper from her, and a bark in the distance from the brush behind. I pick her up and start to look for more. I see none, I hear none. I look and walk, and drive on dirt road to a place people dump trash illegally, as well as dogs. I find nothing. I call, I whistle. All the time the pup has her nose pressed in the crook of my neck, holding on to me as well as a dog can without baby arms. My passion. It is beyond compassion.
The bark I heard did not sound like a puppy, I think maybe the chihuahua mix Lee had described. Maybe someone picked up all the pups they saw but missed this one and the scared older chihuahua. Coyotes will eat it. Why won’t it come, I know it is out there. I finally give up. One puppy in my arms Praying the others are safe somewhere. Keith went with me a couple of hours later, so I could search again, now that it is darker and colder. At 4 AM I hear what I think is an unfamiliar bark in the distance, maybe it is pups, or chihuahua on other side of fence, barking at ours dogs, maybe it is a dream. Keith reminds me the small dogs can fit through the gate, I dress and go out anyway. Obsessed.
I do love animals. I have always loved animals. I am passionate about animals. My heart breaks, my soul aches when I lose one of my animal companions. My throat tightens and my eyes tear at each animal I see dead on the roads. Animals wandering the roads catch my attention, always. Animals gravitate to me, I walk in a yard, the first to greet me is the dog or cat of the family. I wanted to be a veterinarian. God has gifted me with the ability to relate to animals. I see every stray, injured, lost animal that I touch, as a responsibility God has blessed me with.
My pets have influenced, my 50 years, given me comfort, and yes, love.
Our Missy, a collie would steal kittens from Boots, our cat, she would mother them until Boots would come and swipe Missy’s nose and take her babies back.
Mom would tell Missy “Watch the baby” as she worked in the yard, and I played. I would be herded by my canine nanny into the rose bushes next to the house, to keep me as far from the road as possible. The same road that Missy crossed to play with other dogs, the same road she was killed on one foggy morning. My brothers and I were visiting my grandparents, after receiving the call my grandmother came to us crying and saying ‘OUR Missy was killed by a car.” Mamaw explained through tears the poor girl who hit her had cried in Daddy’s arms. Mamaw said surely a dog as loved and able to give love as much as Missy, would be with Jesus. I believe that is true, somehow.
I have shared my life with many many animals. 29 Cats, 18 dogs, two rabbits, 3 horses, 3 goats as pets, and more goats as weed eaters and arm breakers and 3 horses. 2 dogs co owned with Evan. 2 dogs re homed for their sake and mine. Goats ‘rehomed’ never eaten, by me. 1 horse rehomed. (To me rehomed is just a step above abandoning) 4 cats and 2 dogs died of OLD age 16+. I have lost my dear pets to cars, poisoning, kidney failure, old age, becoming lost(rapture?).I have grieved the loss of all. I don’t value animal loves over my human loves, but I do grieve loss with the same heart. With my animals I have an added sense of responsibility that I don’t have with the humans I love. I take on the responsibility to care for and provide for my animals seriously. I am their caretaker, if they get lost, they get hurt, they get killed, it is because I failed somehow in the care of them. When they die of old age, I have succeeded, yet I still mourn a life that I loved.
Beyond the animals I have spent time and money on, there are those I have rescued, those I have been a halfway house for. 4 puppies have found me here in my home google can’t find. I found a mama cat and kittens and a billion fleas in an abandoned building. I fed a baby hawk deer meat for a week, until I could get it to a bird sanctuary. I have nursed birds back to health after they bash into windows.
A cat with a hole the size of a quarter in it’s neck found care, then a barn to live in. A cat hit by a car, lived in my bedroom for a month. I have fostered litters of kittens for the Humane Society.
Poor Keith. Zoophilia makes no sense to him. Keith can not feel the love I actually DO receive back from these critters I love.
It is not that he hates animals,
he just knows that cute kitten walking in the alley has siblings and a mother, and I will be crawling through the trash can till I find each last ‘mew’ and bringing them home. I will set up cat boxes in the house because the temperature may drop below the temp they experienced alone in the alley the night before. He knows this is the time no one will want any cats so we will end up with them all and that 5 out of the 6 kittens will be female and need to be spayed, and none will run away until we do spend money on them. He knows those kittens will grow up to be cats, laying around doing nothing. He knows we will walk past another alley and see more kittens. He knows the list of animals I have in my 50 short years. He knows I can at least double that in the next 20 or so left. So Keith sneezes loudly scares the kitten away and turns me quickly, before I catch glimpse of the furry ball of fluff and love.