14 hours. That’s how long I spent today working a cruelty case. My t-shirt is covered with flea dirt, dewormer, bath stains, and blood (mine and theirs). But this face, 19 pounds of gratitude that came many hours after we first met, makes it worth it.
I don’t make a habit of sharing the heartbreaking stories because I’ve been told it turns people off and hurts us getting support. I try to share little vignettes for people to see that our team is working hard to change lives, which today, brought seven neglected and confused souls to safety.
Coastal Pet Rescue has been going hard since 2003, but I have been doing this work since 2000. I see a lot of things that are heartbreaking and at times, soul crushing. But I’ve learned to thrive in the crisis, make lists and work through what has to be done first and work until most things are settled until another day. But today, today was hard.
We were already overflowing with not enough fosters and not enough resources when a message came to me yesterday afternoon asking if we had room to take six dogs seized from their owners. I had few details, only that there were actually seven dogs, but one was “snarky” and may not be able to be handled. I connected with my intake coordinator and messaged back that I would be there this morning to grab whatever we could take.
As the story goes, I didn’t want to leave anyone behind, and little Ms. Snark had changed her tude when I approached, so seven were headed for freedom rides. As we got the paperwork together, I got more details: there were actually more dogs, almost twice as many, but these are what had survived being left in a camper that registered 104 degrees (f) inside when discovered. Given their smells, I could only imagine the other living conditions.
Once we arrived to the shelter, we got everyone situated out of my car – which required almost a full bottle of Febreeze spray for me to make it home tonight – and it was time for me to start baths. The great thing about dogs who have never properly been groomed is they immediately see that you are trying to help them feel better and are eager to cooperate… and if you don’t know me that well, that was most definitely sarcasm. My arms are scratched up (thus, some of the blood on my shirt), and I wanted to cry when I watched the water run red as I bathed each of the puppies from all the fleas, but them trying to bite and claw me as I tried to kill their nemeses kept the tears from falling. The adult females fared slightly better in the baths, seeming to realize how much relief their skin was getting not to mention their odor. And then, there was Nubby… We’ll just say that we came to an understanding eventually as he was trying to launch off my shoulder and over my head and I heard something in my shoulder pop, which didn’t drown out the sounds of laughter from down the hall as we were apparently giving great entertainment to our admin volunteer who stopped in to help on paperwork for a bit.
In a manner of divine timing, I had a group of 15 youth volunteers coming for a couple hours of service, and I managed to wrangle a few of them in to helping comb fleas out of puppy fur for nearly an hour. The puppies gave it up as they settled into each lap, probably just grateful to be out of the soapy water which I was also wearing.
After the youth left, it was back to putting together deworming meds, which meant getting weights on everyone. If you think getting dogs to cooperate for a bath is fun, trying to get them to stand still on a scale. I could not plead with them enough for cooperation, but finally got weights-ish to be able to dose, and each puppy was kind enough to share their dewormer with me (joke’s on them, I’ve tasted it lots of times before). Repeat process for three more adults while working in a kitten adoption and a meet-and-greet for one of our longtime residents.
I of course then realized I needed to go get photos of my adults for their intake, and made the mishap of sitting down in the pen with them. I don’t know if being accosted by Dachshunds can be considered a hostile work environment, but they did at least lavish me with kisses as I made attempts for profile photos, none of which came out well.
The rest of the evening came and went, sending out two puppies and one female adult to foster and prepping to give a lift to the last puppy on my way home. Paperwork finally done, all other dogs shored up for the evening despite their barking protests, headed out to finally start my way back home to spend time with my own neurotic canine who was kind enough to share his joy of my being home by breaking off a cabinet door.
Not every day in rescue is like this, but so many are and just get done like another line on our daily checklist. We’re so busy doing the work, we can’t always make the time to stop and get people to understand why we need their help, too. So, this is me and Tippy saying thanks to those of you who continue to support this crazy journey, for the slow days and the long ones.
TL;DR: Tippy says rescue is good, donations are appreciated.