Turbulence

Annie, my mum, with Clara

I've slowed down just lately, on these entries to the blog.  I am overwhelmed in my desire to express thoughts.  And, just because I have "feels" (to coin a current phrase) doesn't really mean that it's got to be written.

I write because it's satisfying, most of the time, and cathartic, almost all the time.  I often sit down to write intending to write one thing, and then--as if my fingers on the keys had a mind of their own--my writing is off in a different direction than I'd even known it would be.

So much is swirling around in my little world right now.  Some of it overlaps everybody's own experience, such as the emotions around the recent wildfires, being wrought from an already raw population of people in our state.  I am certainly one of those people, yet, the fires have not directly touched me and my family, blessedly.  But, all around me, people I love have been directly touched by, or impacted by, the fires.  I feel powerless to help in most ways.

My mum recently discovered that two greyhound dogs that were adopted by her neighbor a few doors down were being starved, and kept outdoors.  If you don't know a lot about greyhounds, they are NOT outdoor dogs.  Their coat is so thin that they over heat and over-freeze very easily, and they also have no padding to soften their contact with hard surfaces when they lie down.  When you see greyhounds with sweaters and jackets on, don't conclude that it's a silly affectation for the owner's delight.  It is necessary.

The dogs that my mum noticed were suddenly looking thin were dogs she had been visiting with on her daily walks for some time.  They had been, sadly, adopted by their owner as a "safe home" from a greyhound rescue.  These people who had promised to take care of dogs who already had been in a place that was not safe had, themselves, begun to quietly torture these poor, wonderful, dogs by slowly starving them.

How do I know this?  Because, thankfully, my mum decided to take the step that many people stop themselves from taking.  She contacted the authorities.  And, when the local police didn't seem concerned, she went on to somebody who had the authority to act.  And, luckily, these two beautiful dogs were pulled from their torture mere days before they likely would have died.  This was confirmed by the vet who oversaw their rehabilitation.  They had become mere skeletons between the day I went to see them with her, and agreed they were thin and it was a concern, and the day, a week later, that they were seized into protective custody.

This has a happy outcome.  The dogs are gaining weight, and will survive.  It was really a question at first, as the vet was concerned their kidneys would shut down, which is one symptom of starvation.  Also, they were so underweight that they were not allowed to even move around because they could not afford to burn the calories, and moving around--at all--added a risk of their breaking a bone.

The thing that has been a recurring, echoed, statement through this story; from the rescue; from the investigators my mom and I spoke with; from the vet; and especially from the two amazing people who are fostering and rehabbing the dogs in their home, is that they were so thankful my mom spoke up.  That she pursued it after the police didn't respond.  They keep telling us how unusual this is.  And each time they say this, my heart breaks just a bit.

In another compartment of my world, I just walked through several months of turbulence that I could not make any sense of.  I had people I know and who know me suddenly just pull away from me.  Reasons were slim, and when I got them at all, they made no sense.  People do strange things to each other when they are under extreme stress, and I have recognized that some of these people were carrying their own heavy burdens, and so I chocked it up to this.

But then, out of the confusion, a friend and I were speaking, and suddenly a ray of clarity shone through without either of us expecting it.  From there, a litany of abuse and damage and destruction was revealed.  One that I had been carefully shielded from by two people in my circle of people; people I had trusted as friends and business associates.

After an exhausting conversation in which more was revealed than I could ever have imagined, my friend said, "Here are all the people that these two people have mentioned.  Please don't simply take my word.  Talk to everybody, and then talk to everybody else."

And, do you know what?  I did.  And, once the sheen of silence was pierced by me, people admitted they had heard things; were approached; were recruited; were warned; were gossiped to.  But, I couldn't begin to fathom why they hadn't come to me.  All of the people I spoke with were either friends, associates, or both, whom I'd known and trusted longer than I had known or they had known, these two instigators.  Yet, people listened to terrible, damaging, statements about me and never said a word.

And, in all of this, at the same time, we are connecting with an ever-expanding circle of people who rescue and protect animals, and they, too, are saying, "the biggest battle we fight is people not speaking up when they see, hear, or know of something that is not right."

It makes me wonder, mostly to myself, what has happened to us?  Have we become so afraid to stand up to our neighborhood bullies that we have begun just looking the other way?  We as a community are all that stand for the people and the creatures that don't realize they are in harm's way; or can't speak for themselves.

The sweet greyhound girls are named Star and Clara, and they came to know my mum over the months she walked by and said hello to them through the railing of the deck where they were kept.  We went to see them this week, 7 weeks now, since they were rescued.  When we walked through the front door of the home, both the dogs came to my mother, and recognized her and suddenly stood up to kiss her on the face over and over.  As she sat on the soft carpet in the living room, they climbed into her lap as best they could, one at a time.

We make a difference when we stand up to bullies and monsters of all sort.  I know I even allowed my mum to make the call, believing that action would be taken, when I should have also been on that phone myself, demanding intervention.  Those beautiful souls were so near to dying, and if that had been the outcome, I would never have forgiven myself.

I feel a bit like I came near to a strange sort of social death, being victimized by these two people I trusted and kept friendships with.  I am not entirely sure that somebody couldn't do it again, because it was so deeply contrived.  So I will continue to speak out and hope those close to me recognize a viper in the garden if ever one should reveal itself.