11/05/2024
Under-talked about part of rescue….
The biggest thing no one could have prepared me for getting into rescue is the constant guilt.
Guilt for the dogs you can’t help. For walking out of a shelter with one dog and passing by a line of others just as deserving practically screaming help me. For that litter of puppies you got an email about, likely to be dumped and face a life of suffering because as so many other, we are full and have no where for them to go.
Guilt for having to tell people sometimes in the lowest points of their lives that you can’t help. For the good citizen trying to help a stray in an area without an animal shelter. For the overworked animal control staff pleading in your inbox. For simply not having the physical space, fosters, or funds to help and having to relay the bad news time and time again.
Guilt for the dogs you were too late to save. For looking in their eyes laying on that vet floor and know they never got to experience the life they deserved. For the dog in heart failure or puppies with parvo, too far gone to save. For knowing they very well may be leaving this world having only known suffering.
Guilt for missing a thank you to a donor or not saying thank you enough. For them not knowing how much you truly appreciate them and couldn’t be more grateful, but in the midst of all things rescue, you haven’t had a chance to get that thank you note out.
Guilt for always feeling like the time you spend with dogs isn’t enough. For having vet appointments, meet and greets, rescue missions that go longer than expected and cut into your time with them.
Guilt for having your own aging dogs at home who so much irreplaceable time with is given up. For watching, or missing watching, them age before your eyes because rescue takes over. For how much they have to share, cope and adjust to meet the needs of the constant revolving door of fosters.
Guilt for the mountain of emails and messages that go without a response because there’s simply only so much time in a day. For some messages going unopened because the subject line alone is enough to tell your empty tank at the end of a heartbreaking day, your heart literally could not bare it right now.
Guilt for taking a moment to do anything other than rescue knowing there’s that inbox full of unopened messages waiting, dog to walk, kennels to clean, appointments to schedule, so. much. paperwork. to do, the list goes on….
Guilt for not always immediately replying to foster or adopter texts because your hands are full of p**p covered puppies, in the middle of a rescue mission or other. For them not knowing you really did glance at the text on your watch to make sure it wasn’t an emergency, told yourself you’d reply as soon as you finished, but end up forgetting for a couple hours.
Guilt for being absent from family and friends, missing events, celebrations, time together. For holidays turning into some of the only times you spend together, and even then, there‘s always a good chance a rescue emergency will interfere then too.
Guilt for your own spouse at home getting whatever is left in your empty tank at the end of the day. For gracefully dealing with all the new dogs to show up out of the blue, jumping in to help get them set up. For the messy house, for the garage and spare bedrooms turning into storage rooms for supplies.
For me personally, it is the guilt.
I know I can’t be the only one either.
Be kind to your small rescues. Chances are… behind that rescue name and fancy licensing is just a single person or couple person team doing they best they can — and carrying an overwhelming amount of guilt already.
-Heather
