 |
| Meagan and Jed |
 |
| Jumbo Jed |
By Meagan Michele Downing
Ihate people.
Iam often chastised for using the word ‘hate’ but I actually meanit since my definition of people seems to be vastly different fromwhat seems to be socially acceptable. It encompasses those who arebigots, racists, who conform to what society says they should be rather thanwhat they really are, and those who are mean to children as well asanimals. By the time I reached the oh so tender age of twenty three,I managed to swath myself in hypothetical armor to protect myselffrom my fellow homosapiens.
Ihave always been awkward.
Thatkid who could read by the age of six and spent most of her highschool years writing rather than worrying about makeup and boys.
Humansmake me wary.
Iam convinced cats are one day going to attempt to enslave the humanrace. Keyword is attempt since they’d be foiled by a laser pointer. I, for one, may welcome Overlord Mittens until the laser pointertechnology is perfected.
DogsI love.
Adog will never judge you for twenty minute rants that start out aboutthe socio-political climate but somehow end up about how the Topsaround the corner stops carrying salt water taffy once the leavesstart to fall. A dog will lay next to you while you’re sick andjust want to main line OJ while watching movies from the 1990s.Without arguing about who’s the better actor in What’sEating Gilbert Grape?Depp or DiCaprio. To quote George RR Martin: “A hound will die foryou, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face.”(AClash of Kings: A Song of Ice and Fire.) Loyalty and love they give willingly.
Iwent on the Tennessee basset transport. It wasn’t until we reacheda rest stop in Pennsylvania that first sadness and then rage took over. Most ofthe mission had been devoted to getting there, retrieving the dogs,and returning to New York. At this rest stop we took just a littletime to play with them. I saw ribs, bad skin, infection, andparasites. At the same time I saw a pack of dogs that were simplyoverjoyed that they were in the sun with soft grass under their pawswith strange humans. Rather than cringing away or snapping theywanted to give kisses and play. In that moment I was their wholeworld. Never mind the fact they only knew me for under twenty fourhours.
Animalabuse is the face we see most often. In posts on Facebook and thoseawful Sarah McLachlancommercials with the depressing song that invokes tears andpractically assaults your heart strings. Not that it’s a bad thing. I expected the dogs would probably snap at me or avoid touchcompletely. Animal neglect is far worse since it demeans the animaland it can be assumed they were probably never loved.
Iam familiar with anger. I run on it and stress very well, but sadnesscripples me. I convinced myself a long time ago that sadness meansyou are weak. Instead of showing it, I learned to hide behind a mask so itcould not be exploited. To never let them see you cry. I hated that this made me feel sad to the point where I could not put the mask back on. Ihated that it made me feel weak. I hated that there were people outthere who could do this to creatures who only wanted love - who wouldprobably still look up and wag their tails for their negligentmasters because they loved them. I hated myself just a little for notbeing able to snap back from the sadness in order to function.
ButI loved their spirit.
Whilethey frolicked in the sun I saw their new lives beginning. Remusliving among books with a lovely basset sister. Holly and Yahtzeeliving out their golden years on soft beds with humans that loved tospoil them and didn’t care if they moved slower or needed specialattention. Seymour with a kid that would hold him tight in the darkto ward off imagined bogeymen. Norman living in a house with a bigback yard to snuffle and occasionally bark at the mail man becausethat’s how he rolls. And Camilla getting a “Princess” beforeher name since she is so sweet and will enthrall any human sheadopts. I know these are inaccurate fantasies, but I also know thatABC will place them in homes where they’ll be loved and cared for.
Bythe time we returned to New York and I got back to my apartment Inever wanted to go on another transport. I marched from our parkedcar, up the porch stairs in a black mood and wondered why I would putmyself through something so emotionally exhausting. Then I got intomy apartment.
Jedbarked when he saw me while he tried to head butt his way out of hiscrate. I’d been gone forever to him and now I’d returned. Nevermind that Scott had been home to spoil him. Never mind that it hadn’tbeen forever but two days. I opened the crate and instantly Jedstarted to hop then run circles around me. I knelt down to greet himproperly but ended up on my back with a face covered in drool. Hespent the night on the floor next to my side of the bed instead of onhis couch. Sunday I couldn’t move around the apartment withouttripping over him or having a fuzzy head on my thigh while I read,wrote, and watched movies. When we went for walks he put himselfbetween me and anything he perceived as a threat. I joked with Scottabout how Jed thought his arch nemesis, the black lab across thestreet, kidnapped me and now it was up to Super Jed to not let ithappen again. With his power of the Sonic Headbutt he would shadowhis Mommy even if shadowing included almost tripping her in thekitchen.
Scottasked me if Jed’s costume would need a cape. After a few momentsquoting various movies and comic books I realized I frequently createscenarios where my dog is a superhero, and that wouldn’t be possibleif he’d never been on a transport to New York.
Onmy first transport I met the people who’d brought Jed the finalleg. I spent time tracking down his story and his files. I emailedthe woman at the shelter where his journey started and she was simplydelighted at the fact he’d been adopted. I thought of when hewalked up to me at Laura’s house as if to say “You’re myhuman.” I realized he’d come a long way but his progress wouldn’thave been possible without someone devoting their time and energy tobring him to New York - eventually to me. They were surprised whenI thanked them for taking the time and they just shrugged. They’ddone it because it was the right thing to do.
Afterreflecting over this I knew I’d go on another transport. Probablyto Tennessee and maybe I’d deliver a rehabilitated basset to theirforever home. I will endure the heart break even though I know theending will be a happy one. I will drag myself up my porch stairs,cursing people and myself.
Iwill open the door and be reminded of why I do it.
Ido it because maybe one day I can stop hating people because I seeeveryone at ABC coming together from different walks of life to savethese dogs. Together they shoulder the heart break when it descendslike a storm.
Ido it because maybe it can be argued philosophically that a dog withPTSD saved my soul while making me a better human in the process.
Ido it because I want someone out there to create memories like myown.
Ido it because of Jed.
Ido it out of love.
Sothe end of the story will be a happy one.
 |
| Scott, Jed and Meagan |
Hiç yorum yok:
Yorum Gönder