12/23/2024
This happens more and more every day, and there's no reason for it. It is not acceptable.
Some aspects of rescue are so hard to explain to other people who aren’t in the thick of it.
Sometimes a call comes in for help and your gut just insists that this one has to be handled right now, no matter what; drop what you’re doing and run out the door.
Unfathomably, your entire brain shifts into triage mode and adrenaline shoots up; your being becomes consumed in handling this one animal right now. It’s like the world shifts.
That’s what happened with Julius.
Julius, who was neglected and starved for ten years, openly admittedly by his previous owner.
Julius, who had a solid coat of live fleas crawling over his beanpole frame when he was trundled to us.
Julius, a shell of a cat who must have been so beautiful in his prime, whose eyes had withered away and organs had started to revolt against him.
Julius, who despite being so cold and unloved for so very long, made it a point to creakingly, haltingly, push himself into the nearest person’s arms and purr from the depths of his soul at every opportunity for the almost four days we had him.
Julius, who didn’t deserve the lack of empathy or love during his time on Earth, and who owed us nothing but made it a point to love us anyway, who gratefully snuggled and ate anything out before him.
Julius, who broke our hearts when he left us. His body couldn’t physically come back from the frozen winters and starvation and infections he had amassed.
Julius, who we will never forget.
It’s hard to explain to you how we rage against losing the battle for them.
It’s hard to explain how rescuers give their hearts completely to an animal they’ve just met.
But Julius took ours.
Don’t forget to send us a sign, buddy. 🌈
