which came first..the chicken or the egg?
rescue is kind of like that..
which came first..the actual wounded or the becoming maimed?
it is a conundrum, a circle.
the animals come in broken and wounded and in caring for them can break and wound us in return.
it is so easy to love dogs like minnie and mystic and tiny, sweet little zander but loving giant pissed off zander, utterly insane shyla, and rabble rousing ella...well thats a totally different kettle of fish.
this is because they are exhausting in their constant keeping everyone else safe needs.
yopu can't even pick up a bowl near big zander if he is in a bad mood..blind as he is..he will start growling and snarling if he even thinks you are looking at him. i am three weeks into his last bite on me and it still isn't fully healed. and yet..when he is in a good mood, giant zander is actually sweet.
just to take ella for a walk...all other dogs have to be accounted for and moved out of her vicinity...that girl just wants to kick ass...and taste the blood of any unwary and unknown human she meets. but ella does well within both her small circle of human and K9 family.
and shyla? good lord that dog is wearing the life right out of me. hyper-reactive, terrified, violent and nasty, super affectionate, and totally funny..she is just chock full of all kinds of multiple personalities. most of which drive me crazy.
i wanted to save old sweet dogs..like bill and moses but somehow the sociopaths and psychopaths made it in here and are sucking up our energy.
i used to be able to walk this property with every single dog at my heels...a giant pack of happy go lucky's would join our picnics or ramblings out in the fields.
not anymore..this one has to go there, that one can't be with others, another one has to wait while others are moved so she can go solo where ever.
an old time rescuer once told me..to know them is to loath them. and i know of what she was speaking.
yes you can and will love the broken, the wounded, the pain in asses but it comes with a cost. you find yourself one day imprisoned with them by gates, fences and pens, having to think and watch and prevent. some days you find in yourself the same kind of anger and resentment and frustration that is inside of them.
and as much as the care that they need wrecks you, you still love them again.
oh could we please just create one more barrier because of the nut bars, one more fence between me and the midnight bathroom door. the current count is...six. six gates to get thru, for their sixty year old in a hurry rescuer.
it is utterly stupid and this morning, it is pissing me off.
now i know how incontinence starts.