I don’t enjoy it. Okay, there are things about doing rescue that I enjoy. But honestly, for the most part. I don’t enjoy it.
There was a line on one of the CSI shows a week or so ago. Someone asked a CSI if he enjoyed his job. Or maybe it was NCIS. Either way, the person just looked, and said something like “there are aspects of the job that are satisfying.” But really, I feel the same way.
Rescue is heart-wrenching. It’s emotionally taxing. It can be an emotional rollar-coaster. It can be heart breaking. It can also be rewarding.
Why do I do it? Because I feel like I have to. These dogs have no choice. They really are basically slaves (2. one that is completely subservient to a dominating influence). Humans do to animals whatever they want. Experiment, cut off body parts, feed whatever, move them around, leave them in back yards to spin and spin from boredom and frustration. Even the happy dogs have no choice. Humans have bred them to be how they are. And so they are that way. It’s really stunning, if you think about it.
And since the dogs have no choice, they need someone to speak for them. To do for them. I feel as though I am obligated to do so. I must help them. Until there is no longer a need for help. Which I desperately wish for some day.
I rescue because I must. I do sometimes get a great deal of joy from it. I love the dogs. And I love to feel the love for the dogs.
Cheyenne went to his new home today. I miss him. I hope he doesn’t think I’ve abandoned him. He will always have a place in my heart, and he will always be welcome in my home. I miss him. I bonded to him more than any other foster I have ever had. I love that baby boy. He will get more attention and time in another home, though. More than I can give him. Having four dogs of my own is enough to occupy me. Five, or even six, are too many. We still have Jewel. And I do hope that Cheyenne works out so well, that they will adopt Jewel too. I think he is in a good home. I just miss him, and worry about him.
I love you Cheyenne my baby boy.