You Never Know the "Moment"

Yesterday I had a moment that stopped me in my tracks.

I noticed that an acquaintance had posted a new Facebook picture with a puppy – the same person that had not even a month before asked me for resources to find a dog to adopt.

I commented on the photo, inquiring where he had adopted the dog from, and he replied that he got it from a guy in La Junta or Lamar … I don’t remember even a day later where he said he got him … but it doesn’t matter, it was clear to me that he had purchased this dog from a breeder.

The fact that someone I knew – someone who saw my Facebook posts about dogs in shelters and the need for foster homes to save these dogs, someone who was well-educated, someone who I respected in many other ways, a compassionate someone even – would buy from a breeder, crushed me.

I know that often my first reaction is not my best, so I waited.

I waited an hour. I waited two hours. I wrote a couple friends and asked them to help me be more rational about it.

First replied my friends in dog rescue – the ones who have first-hand seen the despair that a shelter brings to the eyes of dogs of all kinds: purebred dogs, puppies, old dogs with once happy memories … all dogs. These are the people who know what it is really like and who put the needless deaths of millions of adoptable pets into a realization that they can only do so much; moreover, a group that to cope has to have a morbid acknowledgement of the death, to allow them to live their daily lives despite what they know.

These friends replied to me with empathy that despite their efforts, their friends, their families and their colleagues had all purchased dogs from breeders at some point, too, making them also feel like they made no difference at all.

While their replies resonated with me, perhaps the most insightful response was from a friend that recently had come to an understanding of my animal rescue efforts. This friend told me that “ultimately it’s human nature to sometimes be selfish … when you think you want something, or think it’s easier when it’s to, you go do it or buy it or whatever. Discipline, self-control and knowing is half the battle.”

 
He reminded me that I didn’t always “get it” – that I wasn’t always the way I am.

To be honest, he’s right.

Before I first stepped foot in a shelter, I was afraid of it. I thought I would just cry and thus I inevitably was a person that would rather be blissfully ignorant than gain an understanding.

That “me” that had never seen the horror of people dropping their dog off at the shelter because it was too old, too young, they were moving across town, or they just didn’t want it.

That “me” that hadn’t seen a man threaten to let his dog loose in the street if the shelter wouldn’t take it.

And that “me” hadn’t seen a dog there one day and gone the next because space and time ran out.

While I’ve seen things I wish didn’t exist, and I’ve shed tears, I’ve also found a deeper joy than I knew existed through the other things I’ve seen. For while there is evil, there is so much beauty to be seen.  

I have witnessed the precious scene of a dog cozying into a fluffy blanket on the couch when they used to sleep in a cold, damp cage.

I have seen people who never knew what a foster home was (myself included) welcome a dog into their home and save a life.

I have met many people who always bought dogs from breeders in the past, decide it was time to rescue a dog instead and still find the perfect dog.  

Perhaps like everything else there are some people who will always prefer to ignore the facts and voices of reason.

Yet, in my blissful awareness, I chose to continue to try to make a difference.

Even if someone doesn’t listen now, they may someday, for as my friend reminded me “knowing is half the battle” … and we never know when that moment will be that someone choses to not only listen but also to hear what is being said.