Have You Ever Been A Stray?

While Superstorm Sandy ravaged the Northeast, we in the mountains of North Carolina found ourselves locked into sleet, snow, and cold just in time for Halloween. On that first day, when sunshine was consumed by clouds of gray and autumn leaves were lost to wind, my son Eli and I found ourselves looking for warm drinks at the Starbucks inside the Ingles in Waynesville, over a few mountains from our home. As we made ourselves comfortable at the store’s café seating, we noticed a gal striking up a conversation with a couple nearby. Her name was Leah. Leah was taking some time off of college and biking from Pennsylvania to New Orleans, Louisiana. She was all of maybe twenty years old. Bicycling. I looked out the window as rain started to beat the pavement. We conversed about her journey. She was asking me questions along the lines of such trivial topics as, ahem, how stewardship was viewed by local churches. I couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to bike up and down the mountains in this weather. My straydar kicked in.

It’s easy enough for those of us who are animal advocates to stop our cars on a busy highway to pick up a stray hound or check to see if an animal hit by a car is alive or dead. It’s almost rote, if not expected. Even my son has jumped on the bandwagon. The other day we were driving on some back roads, and we had to turn around because he swore there was a dead dog in a yard. It was just an old Newfoundland resting his bones in the sun, but that’s what we do. We take the time to stop and turn around. Coming back from one of our vacations late at night, I stopped to get gas when I saw a kitty dash into a culvert. Although I couldn’t get the kitty, I did happen to have a big can of food in the car, so we left him a meal. It’s what we do. But what about when the stray is human? Why does that seem to be so much harder?

While sitting there chatting with this girl, I decided to at least explore options. I made phone calls left and right. Friends called friends, but phone calls weren’t answered. My go-to gal who would have totally helped out this sojourner was, herself, going head-to-head with this climactic fallout while hiking in the Smokies. Yes, she could have probably gone to a hotel. I understand that. She wasn’t broke. But so far she hadn’t really needed to do that, and it seemed like such a shame that she would have to do that while in the bosom of my community. I would have given her a ride somewhere myself except the rescuemobile was piled high with laundry and a large animal crate, and the trunk was full of critter supplies. As I threw up my hands and wished her well, she told me she’d probably just make a sign and go stand out front. I felt like a failure as I walked away.

Starting the car, I was swamped by feelings of guilt. I felt like the Universe was testing me, and I was scoring a big fat ZERO. So, I picked up the phone a couple more times. A fellow animal advocate, whose heart is big and kind, told me if we could get her down the mountain to Sylva, we’d work on it from there. Step in the right direction. Light at the end of the tunnel. Silver lining in those gray clouds. My dearest friend, though, is the one who surprised me. She’s one to be wary of strangers, to put it mildly. Put a dog in front of her, and she’s just like me, but humans are another thing. I found myself stepping on those brakes when she said that she’d come pick Leah up in her car! What just happened? I don’t know. You’d have to ask her. But she worked a miracle.

Turning around and parking, I went back inside the store and couldn’t find Leah. I saw her bicycle outside, parked with its meager load and with a purple helmet hanging off the side. But she wasn’t anywhere to be found. I walked around the shopping center for a few minutes and eventually saw her at her bike. Rescue magic happened. I left knowing she was assured a safe ride through horrible weather, and as my cell phone was dying, I had hope that the rest would work itself out. I did have enough battery, though, to make two more important calls.

Driving down the mountain, I had to make a stop at an acquaintance’s home. This woman lives off the beaten track where roads end in forest and creeks are bold! It entered my head as I was driving that I should ask her to take in our traveler. I’d known the woman to be community-minded, and when I called her, I simply asked. And she simply said yes. A call to my dear friend who was on her way to meet Leah, and we were set. The cell phone died, and I drove until the road ended, parked, socialized, and waited. It wasn’t too much longer when Leah arrived. She entered a cacophonous, yet cozy, home. A fire burned in the wood stove. Kids were running around. We four adults, including my friend who stayed for a while, sat around a kitchen table and talked for a while, and then we parted ways. As we left, Leah was helping the family’s little girl build a fairy house by a big tree in the yard.

Leah brought her own little magic to western North Carolina. I will never forget how, upon my telling her that my friend was coming to pick her up, she said she was going into the store to buy flour because she carries sourdough starter with her so she can bake bread for her hosts. Sounds like a very threatening axe murderer, right?! A couple days later on Halloween I gave her a call and found out she was still here. She was trick-or-treating with the family! It warmed my heart to know that her time in my community was spent being cared for, and I know her worried family up north was grateful for the kindness that had been shown to their daughter. I hope that as she continues on her way south that she’ll be able to reflect upon what she experienced and that it will somehow impact how she lives her life. She seems like the pause-reflect-and-grow type of gal to me. The horrible weather we experienced those couple of days after her arrival had only cemented my feeling that we had done the right thing. And while so many people suffered, and continue to suffer, in the Northeast, at least we were able to bring comfort to a stray and be better human beings for it.

So, yet again, I reflect upon how each step, each breath has meaning. We let so much meaning slip away unnoticed in a life, but when we pay attention, the rewards of a purposeful life are endless and enduring.

Love from the Tailroad,

Chandra

Ludo's Legacy Fundraiser October/November 2012

Ludo's Legacy Fundraiser

The Leaves Aren't All That's Golden

It's been far too long since I've blogged. I have aspired to put my thoughts and experiences into words, but all too often the experiences, alone, fill every minute of every day, and then some. I've had to rely upon Facebook posts and photographs to convey to all of you my passionate quest for change. But today - TODAY - I bore witness to rescue MAGIC, and it behooves me to give this magic to the world.

Every moment in a life matters, and each little moment is filled with choices. Not one choice, but fathomless choices which we weave together in living a life full of its own twists and turns. I suppose I've been particularly sensitive to this phenomenon ever since I was a child. In one moment everything in my family's life changed. In a moment my father went from living a life of seemingly perfect health to one where life was fought for by him and by all of us. Those fighting moments strung themselves together into years, and so very many choices we had to make. We experienced the frailty of life, and we experienced fear; we experienced sacrifice, perseverance, and repercussions. We fought with attachment. I do not take my place in this life lightly. The significance of a moment, and my place in that moment are not lost on me.

Today's moment, though, was magical. It was to be a day spent mostly with my son, as we drove an hour into Asheville to drop a couple dogs off to be spaded...oh, wait, I mean spayed. Depends where you live, how you say it, it seems. I planned to take him to the North Carolina Arboretum on this fine autumn day. The sun was certainly shining, and sweaters were set aside. The arboretum had an 'After the Dinosaurs' exhibit running, and he more than earned a break away from the rescue routine which makes up not just my life, but his. I hadn't really charged the cell phone, and I even considered turning it off, but I hate to do that. It seems so final, turning it off, when I feel a sense of moral obligation to be available in case of some emergency. Lately those emergencies have included consultations which have sent three animals to the emergency vet, and I have a grandpa in the hospital, so it stayed on.

In a moment life shifted. I was called upon by a rescue associate to offer what I could for a dog that had been found in Jackson County, the county in which I reside. Yes, here we go again. A dog. There are probably quite a few folk who read that and want to cast this aside. But here's the thing. It isn't just a dog. There are people too. There is the woman who had found the dog and didn't know what to do. There are the staff at my county's animal shelter who are living the reality of what a full county shelter means - euthanasia, if we can't give them room, give them empty runs. There is the rescue associate who could offer a place for the dog after following a protocol that meant it needed a place for 3 days. There is my son trying to do a scavenger hunt among the gardens at the arboretum while I'm sitting on a bench with a cell phone in my ear.

The problem is that there wasn't a place for the dog to go to be held. It wasn't the Good Samaritan's fault. She wanted to help, but the law of the landlord definitely got in the way with this one. I wanted to help, but there was no room at the inn, plus I was hours and hours away from being able to physically help, and we had three - THREE - hours to find a solution, if we wanted to keep the dog out of the shelter. Now, I don't want anyone to think that we wanted to keep the dog out of the shelter because we are hate mongers who think shelter staff are the scum of the earth. Indeed, no. The staff of our county shelters are partners in rescue, and they are human, and under all that I do with the animals, I will never forget how hard their job is and how valuable they have been to so many successes I've been blessed to experience. We simply wanted the best outcome possible!

Witness the magic. I have been blabbing away on the phone in the office of the Great Outdoors when enter the Outsiders. A couple was visiting the arboretum, and they had the NERVE to interrupt my scheming rescue-the-dog-and-rescue-the-people shenanigans. They couldn't help but overhear me. Yeah, them and the rest of the world. And they just happen to volunteer with a rescue in the area. And they just happen to have a thing for Golden Retrievers, and I'm very certain the whole of The Great Outdoors heard me mention, oh, maybe, a hundred times that this found dog was of Golden Retriever descent. They seized a moment, and they created change. They made a choice. They gave me an opportunity, their names, and a cell phone number, and as they wandered away, I was aghast. What just happened?

Magic happened, for as my cell phone began flashing and beeping its battery warnings, and as my son was counting audibly (and irritably) to 120 in order to drive home the message that he was more than ready to move on, I began rapid fire phone calls and text messages and phone number exchanges and prayers that one Good Samaritan might connect with the other, that strangers might truly connect. The phone died, but my hope didn't. Nor did my faith, although it might have been on some shaky ground. I simply had to hold onto it, though, and go about my day. Eli and I whiled away the hours of the afternoon exploring and hunting art installation pieces among the gardens. We picked up our fosterlings from their spay appointments. We drove the hour home.

I don't like to leave things unfinished. I like to follow through and follow up as much as possible. I am far from perfect in that regard, but in this case, I made the time. Well, of course it was a happy outcome! Of course it was! The connection was made. The dog is safe. Landlords are, hopefully, appeased. Golden Retriever lovers are, hopefully, enjoying the gift they took into their home to hold for three days. Are strangers really strangers? Are we really strangers in this world, you and I who may never meet face to face or might just pass each other on a street? On a day like today I believe that no, we are not. We choose to become strangers when we turn our backs on each other. We find lots of excuses - that is, we make lots of choices - to become strangers. But today we allowed ourselves to be friends and to bring a little peace to the world in our way. And our doggy friend? Well, it looks like she definitely deserves a bit of peace too! The poor gal has three microchips which lead to dead ends, including, apparently, one where a rescue or shelter lost her after chipping her and simply doesn't want her back. Suffice it to say, I think she has happy days ahead of her, and I am not going to criticize any of it, because I'd rather like to think that it must be meant to be. Don't you believe so?

I urge myself, my son, and all of us to remember those around us. We rarely know a whole story, let alone a fragment. Fragments are all too often facades which mask realities we may not be able to understand. Compassion, making time for each other, pausing, caring, and asking questions instead of preaching and criticizing and closing doors...today, I know that I am not alone in seeing that these are the qualities we need to build a world which thrives for all. Such qualities ARE the magic of living, in animal rescue and beyond. Definitely beyond.

Love from the Tailroad, Chandra

The Season Where Kittens Rain

My co-conspirator tonight is very small and rather quiet. She is resting on my shoulder, nestled at the nape of my neck. Her name is Fergie, and she is a kitten about six weeks old. Fergie and I would like to let you know that kitten season is upon us. It is whipping through The Underground Tailroad like a hurricane. You know it’s coming, you prepare, and you dread the arrival, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Well, that’s not really true. There is something you can do about it: spay and neuter your cats.

I will abstain from flouting statistics. I’m not one for scare tactics either. I’m not going to conjure up some graphic showing 1000 cats in a pile. I’m simply going to ask us to be mindful as stewards on this planet. Humans domesticated cats, and we have a responsibility toward them. It is our job to keep them healthy and to keep their numbers in line. Nature suffers from too many cats, and the kitties suffer, too; and, honestly, during kitten season, which really can stretch for months across the warm part of the year, animal rescuers everywhere suffer. We suffer from lack of sleep, bottle-feeding orphaned newborns who show up on the street or in shelters. We suffer from the burden of numbers, making space wherever and however we can. We suffer from not being able to save them all…these wee, harmless kittens which grow into lovely, adoptable, and often-euthanized cats. The same goes for dogs.

In May, alone, over forty kittens joined The Underground Tailroad. Some were old enough to go directly to rescues and adoption room floors. Some were visiting guests from partner organizations who needed bottle feeding and TLC. Many, many, many were from the Jackson County Animal Shelter or from community members who were going to take them to the shelter. In a lot of these cases, these are kittens born from owned, unneutered cats…not foundlings picked off the street. In some cases, these are litters born to mamas who had litters last year. I have people calling me, asking for help rehoming cats, and when I ask how old the cats are, I find out we’re talking great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, and their children – kittens, that is. We do not have places for all of these cats, and we don’t like to watch them die. I’ve watched my animal control cohorts become attached to lovely creatures, only to have to kill them for lack of space or a cold induced by stress and a lack of a home. It seems hardly fair to the animals or to the people who care for them. If we care, really care, we spay and neuter.

Fergie has moved to the keyboard now. She is sleeping, curled up between my wrists. I love this little girl, with her orange forelock and kitten curls. I also don’t know if she’ll live. It’s tough being an orphaned kitten, and anyone who knows me knows that I fight for my kittens. Veterinary nursing training and a streak of obstinance, along with a deep-running sense of responsibility, mean that I battle hard for these darlings. But Fergie is having a really rough time. She doesn’t feel well, and she hasn’t felt like eating much. Bottle feedings are bittersweet. I work to save her with injectable fluids and oral medications throughout the day. She has her own little bed space, nice and warm, a nest where she can be comfortable. When I check on her, my pulse quickens a little, because I don’t know if I’ll find her alive or dead.  So, tonight, she is here with me, gently wheezing as I type. Her mama was feral and too hard to handle, and since we don’t yet have a program in place to help ones like her where we live, she was euthanized, leaving a whole litter behind. Fergie didn’t need to be born, but she is here, my little messenger, breaking my heart with every uncertain breath. If only we could combine breath and tears together to create a magic spell, one where humans take the initiative and spay and neuter, realizing such magic is a gift of love within our grasp.

I’m not sure what the answer is in order to make spay/neuter for our domesticated animals a societal norm. Some places do better than others. We have low-cost spay/neuter clinics across the country. Indeed, our own Asheville Humane Alliance in North Carolina performed 23,290 spay/neuter surgeries in 2011, alone (Humane Alliance, Facebook, 2 January 2012). Organizations provide vouchers to help lower costs for the surgeries, to make them more affordable, sometimes free. Transports are arranged to shuttle animals to and fro. Where I stand, outreach seems to be badly needed. We can’t count on people to take their animals in to be fixed, and often people are misinformed about when and how often animals reproduce. It takes them by surprise, and quite quickly can become overwhelming. When people are overwhelmed, sometimes they lash out and blame, and sometimes they shut down. Problem-solving becomes stuck in a bottleneck of frustration, perhaps even apathy. I know as well as others that there are some people who just don’t care. They don’t see a problem in the first place. But I am here to try to help change that.

I am sensible enough to know that change takes time. We have made strides in animal welfare through the years, so it isn’t all bad news. I’m also an optimist, with a keen belief in our human capabilities. At the same time, there are so many social issues we do not yet have a handle on. Realistically, it is going to take a lot of work, dedicated effort, and sacrifice to ameliorate this human-caused state of affairs, just as it is with pressing issues across the globe. Children go to bed without food. Mothers walk ten miles to get a couple gallons of water. Families lose their homes due to financial crises or the turbulence of nature. People fight and kill each other every day. But I believe if we turn to our communities, work together, depend upon each other, we create an infrastructure for a caring society. I believe we each have skills to bring to the table, and it is how we tie them together that matters. Honestly, I want to live in a society that cares about kittens just as much as it cares for humans, because THAT society demonstrates deep empathy. Deep empathy is strong. That’s an infrastructure which can withstand the challenges of life, overcoming them with creativity and purpose.

For my part, I am here with Fergie, whose tiny paw is draped across the back of my hand. I am here with her sisters and brothers. I am here with some mama cats and their kittens. Heck, there is even a litter of puppies riding the Tailroad that is my life these days. We are in this together, just as you are with us. My son is eight years old, and, if anything, he is a testament as to the potential the future may bring, for he witnesses the work, the triumphs and the suffering and the losses, and he understands quite easily what it is I am asking for. He believes in it. I’ve woven it into his reality. Reaching to our children is one of the best things we can do for the future. But for now, it is midnight, and it is time for me to bottle feed some more babies before heading to bed and hoping that Fergie may live to purr tomorrow.

Beginnings that Continue

I’m not very certain how The Underground Tailroad began. All I know is that I live and breathe it every day, just as it challenges me every day to be a better human being. It isn’t just an animal rescue effort; it is a state of mind. You see, I believe we have the power as individuals and organizations to work together to make life better for all living things on this planet. Too often we cut ourselves off from one another, and gaps arise. Gaps are insidious and open the door to the creation of bigger problems down the road. We become entrenched in our own visions and miss the blind spots. We strive to reach goals while ignoring the goals of others. We look to the now or live in the past and forget there is a future, especially in this time of instant gratification with technology at our fingertips. With so much information available to us, it can be overwhelming, and we can easily fall into the trap of circling the wagons instead of exploring new horizons.

The Underground Tailroad loves new horizons, the creation of new solutions to old problems, seeing problems as opportunities, the building of relationships across cultures and organizations. It asks only that one keeps an open mind and a love for others at hand. It offers a welcome mat for those standing out in the cold and rainy moments of life, and, I hope, offers them sunshine and optimism. It will continue to be a constant work of progress, just as a human’s journey is. We strive, we triumph, we fail, and we have to continue striving nonetheless. We also need to remember that there are neighbors all around us, and they come in all shapes and sizes and forms. We need each other in order to thrive.

Now, I AM an animal welfare advocate. It is as natural to me to fight for the feathered, furry, and purry, as it is to breathe. It spills out of my pores and has throughout the entirety of my life. But I see our relationships with animals as being integral to having a prosperous society. Humans can be cruel, and it has been demonstrated that humans who are cruel to animals lean toward being cruel to other humans, as well. So, on the one hand, we have animals as an indicator as to how humans may treat each other. But we can flip this relationship, too, as I choose to do, and see animals as a driver for change.

For example, the number of children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) is on the rise in the United States and beyond. So much is still being discovered about ASD, but it is recognized that animals, particularly our canine companions, can truly help children on the spectrum with their sensory integration issues. A dog can connect a child with his or her family and world in a unique way. If we can truly recognize this tie that binds, how a furry friend can open doors, then we become better human beings. This relationship is not limited to children with ASD. We see such relationships, this building of connections and empathy, across many levels, from therapy dogs for veterans with PTSD, to children becoming confident readers with dogs as reading buddies. With bullying becoming a mainstream issue in our public school system, it would seem to me that we’d do well to look to the opportunities of the human-animal bond to create confident, caring children who can grow into resilient, compassionate adults.

I’d also like to take a moment and focus upon our relationship with animals through the lens of what we eat. We stuff our faces with whatever is presented to us, most of the time. So often we are hustling and bustling through life that it is just easier to grab something to eat without a moment of conscience, but if we are going to create a strong global society, we are going to have to slow down and consider the ramifications of our choices and actions. We allow animals to suffer through farming practices that are degrading. They aren’t just degrading at a level of quality of care and lack of scruples for the animals. These practices are degrading in reflection of being human. We tolerate cruelty at an epidemic level because it isn’t staring us in the face. By the time a chicken is on our plate, it has no voice, and our cravings take over our conscience and commitment for compassion. We take very little ownership as individuals for the suffering of others, but the truth is that, as individuals, we are responsible for the suffering of others every day.

Every day of my life I wake up with a to-do list a mile long. The list is not just one of action but one of thought, and it is constantly evolving with much room to grow…so much room to grow. It isn’t without frustrations. There are plenty of those, most of them my own making. It takes an extra second to reflect upon one’s self-made frustrations, and when we live busy lives, taking that second requires an effort than can definitely be a personal challenge. Pause and reflect is easier said than done. Yet, as I work with various organizations and with community members, I find the personal growth to be remarkable. The Underground Tailroad thrives upon these relationships because they go to show how easily we build walls instead of bridges, but bridges are so much better. I choose to build bridges, and I hope you make that choice too.