The Fire Within

Gertie

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the path my life is on, and taking on my first foster dog in six years has had a great deal to do with that. Gertrude is a loving, itchy, smelly (lots of farts), silly, sweet English Bulldog from K-9 Angels Rescue here in Houston. She was found as a stray and was clearly used for breeding, so now it’s her time to be a puppy. Having had the pleasure of Miss Gertie’s company now for the past month has rekindled a flame that I’ve both consciously and unconsciously done my best to extinguish. That flame burns in my heart and in my soul, and it reminds me of why I believe I was put on this earth, and that is to work with shelter animals.

You’re probably asking why I would ever want to extinguish something that fulfills me so much. Well, simply put, while it does bring me so much joy, it also brings back extremely painful memories that I have struggled to overcome for the past eight years. I have been unsuccessful. I have made peace with so very many other things in my life, but the lingering humiliation, pain, and betrayal of this one event just will not stop. There are people in those memories that I still haven’t forgiven, and I know that is not the right thing to do, but I’m not sure how to let go.

From a 2008 calendar made by one of my coworkers. This was for the month of August. The pit bull’s name was Jordan. She was found in a high school parking lot with a litter of 13 puppies. I think the cat I’m petting was Bam Bam. He was a character!

I was the Animal Care Director for the Humane Society of South Central Michigan in Battle Creek, and on January 21, 2009, I was terminated. The night before my termination, the house next door to mine caught fire and burnt down in spectacular fashion. I remember being woken up by a bright light in my bedroom; it was from the flames coming out of the window directly across from mine. I watched in horror through my bedroom window as the fire swallowed the house. All the people got out safe, but I don’t know what happened to their animals, or if they even still had any then. I hadn’t heard any barking coming from their house in months. It was so cold outside that the water the firefighters used to put out the fire froze on my window. To this day, I cannot see a structure fire without a tremendous amount of anxiety. Talk about a bad omen.

I loved almost everything about my job at the shelter. I started there as a Kennel Technician, cleaning litter boxes, scooping poop, and cleaning out kennels. I was in heaven. I moved up to Animal Care Director and put my thoughts of veterinary school on hold because I was so very happy there. I had found my calling, and a new home. I learned everything there was to learn about Shelter Operations; I attended classes, took online courses, and went to conferences. I set goals for myself and was even invited to present a course along with one of my mentors at a national animal welfare conference. But that was not to be.

During the course of my time there, leadership changed often. A Board of Directors oversaw the non-profit, but the day to day operations were left to an Executive Director. One of these bosses had such erratic behavior that it caused us to believe he had early onset dementia. We learned, however, that his behavior was caused by drug abuse. Our concern turned to fear and disgust. I blew the whistle on what we’d learned about our boss to board leadership, and was led to believe that something would be done. I still remember one board member asking “Are you telling me the truth right now?” over and over again after two of us relayed to her some of the awful stories. Her incredulous reaction should have served as a warning to me, but I paid no attention. This boss ended up quitting on his own with no warning except for a message on the white board outside his office door, but not before almost the entire staff witnessed his car get repossessed in the Humane Society parking lot. He was soon replaced with a temporary Executive Director for a few months before a permanent one was found.

After I blew the whistle, things began to change. The atmosphere was different, and there were board members who became cold and indifferent to me. The relationship between me and the new Executive Director was frosty at best, and I already had enemies anyway; I had instituted changes at the shelter that did not sit well with some long time supporters, such as lifting the ban on pit bull adoptions. I tried to ignore the feeling I had in my gut and instead poured myself into my work. During the time that everything began falling apart, I was not only dealing with that boss who would fly into rages at the drop of a hat and fire off manic emails at 3AM, but I was also going through my divorce, my heart dog Copper passed away, and a dear friend was killed in Iraq. I tried to distract myself from all the pain. I took the GMAT and was accepted into an MBA program at Western Michigan University, but dropped out because I simply couldn’t handle the coursework along with all my other pressures. I wanted to get my MBA because I thought it would help me with running an animal shelter like a successful business sometime in the future. At work, I began missing deadlines, and the cracks were beginning to show. I know I made mistakes. I know my leadership at that point was stunted by the turmoil going on inside me. I admit to my wrongdoings and to my failures, but how it ended and how I was treated before, during, and after the end is something I simply cannot reconcile in my mind and in my heart. I won’t go into details of the events that transpired, mainly because I may finally be on the road to forgiveness, and now the details just don’t seem to matter as much anymore.

Molly

Today I read through some memories of that time, and I read the letter I wrote to the editor of the Battle Creek Enquirer a week after I was let go. After I finished reading the letter, I bawled like a baby. Miss Gertie immediately came over to me and began licking my face. I was sitting on the floor, so she moved from one side of my face to the other, occasionally leading with her mouth and hitting me with her underbite and not just her tongue (ow!). That made me giggle a little, and brings me to the reason I’ve been able to begin climbing out of my most recent black hole: Gertie. She reminds me so very much of a Shar-Pei we had at the shelter named Molly who stole my heart. She’d been brought in to the shelter by a man in his 50’s who was sobbing as he signed the owner surrender paperwork. He told me that she was the sweetest Shar-Pei he’d ever known, with no aggression whatsoever, even though she seemed to be in pain most of the time. He told me that he just couldn’t fix her skin problems, she’d bled all over his house from scratching her itchy skin, and he kept giving her baths but nothing seemed to work. He said he just couldn’t help her anymore and it broke his heart. She looked up at me, this little dog with so many wrinkles. She smelled of yeast and had scabs all over her body, but her tail was wagging. I bent down to say hello, and she gave me a kiss. I knew we had to save her. I talked to our vet to try to determine the problem, and promptly decided that Molly would stay with me down in our basement offices at the shelter instead of in her kennel during the day. Out of my own pocket, I bought her Science Diet wet and dry food to try to get her well. The only time she spent in the kennel was when I was at home (believe me, in those days, I was ALWAYS at the shelter, and my dogs were usually with me….that’s the benefit of working in an animal shelter!). Finally, her skin began to heal and she was comfortable and healthy. We marketed Molly through Shar-Pei rescues, and just when it seemed like no one would adopt her, we finally got a hit. Molly went to live a dream life with an incredibly wealthy couple in Chicago who had six other Shar-Peis. When they came to pick her up, I couldn’t stop crying. I remember the woman asking me if I was going to be okay; she was very concerned. I told her they were tears of happiness, and all that mattered was that Molly found her forever home. I have no idea if Molly is still hanging out in that palatial home in Chicago, but I do know that she and Gertie share a soul. I truly believe that Gertie came into my life because I was struggling and needed to be reminded of my purpose in this world. I owe her a debt I can never fully repay.

Molly at the shelter….she loved me and I loved her. That girl had my heart.

Posting this tonight took courage I haven’t been able to muster in a very long time. As a matter of fact, the reason I haven’t posted on this blog in months was that I simply couldn’t do it. I found joy in almost nothing, and my depression consumed me. Then I saw a photo of Gertie on Facebook asking for a foster home. And I said yes. A couple weeks later, I volunteered at a Clear the Shelter event at the Harris County Animal Shelter, and I felt alive for the first time in years. The sights, the sounds, the smells (yes, even of mangy dog and poop)……took me back and finally brought me something other than heartache. I could barely walk into a shelter for so very long without feeling like I was going to have a panic attack, and now I finally remember how I felt the very first time I walked into one. I felt like I was home. The people there were my people; they understood me, accepted me, and in them I recognized myself. Even though I have not fully climbed out of the hole, I finally don’t feel like there’s a hand pulling me back down. And it’s all because of a stubborn Bulldog with bad skin and the sweetest soul I’ve come across in a very long time.

If you so choose, please do read my letter to the editor, posted below. I also posted the comments my letter received online; the last comment, which is actually a reply to someone else’s comment, is the funniest.

If you’re wondering if I’m adopting Gertie, I am not. Her permanent place isn’t with me, although she will always occupy a place in my heart. She has touched my soul and brought me back to my life’s purpose. Oh, and do you hear that? That’s the sound of forgiveness. And of letting go. It’s beautiful.

Thank you for reading, and stay tuned.

The Letter