Archive for July, 2010

Rant of frustration

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Entry for December 21, 2007

Rant so pardon the language. If you don’t like it, there’s always ignore.

Dear 14 year old stepson. I know you’re 14 and immensely self absorbed. Not likely with your mother’s genes that it’s going to be getting better with age either, but I can fight the hopeless fight if I want to. However, would it absolutely KILL YOU to shut the fuck up BEFORE you say something hurtful about my cooking every time I cook? I know you have subsisted on french fries and fried foods before you got here 2 years ago, but God and Goddess…. GROW THE HELL UP ALREADY.

You have no idea how hurtful you are and probably don’t care. All is right with the world as long as all is right with Christopher. Well, I wasn’t raised that way. (reminds me of an adult I know.) So, from now on, when I cook, You are happily invited to make yourself soup, a sandwich, ramen noodles, whatever. But don’t even THINK about a snack later or dipping into the dinner I made if you can’t learn to hold your tongue for the sake of being nice to anyone.

Rant over. Thank you very much

New Year’s Day beginnings and ends

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

New Year’s Day…. beginings…. ends

Current mood: melancholy

New Years Day….. A time for new beginnings. But for a friend of mine, today was also a time for the end of a circle. My friend Jamie is a veterinarian. She’s conscientious, caring and extremely thorough for all her clients and patients. This goes for her own animals as well. Today, after having diagnosed her oldest beagle dog with end stage cancer, Jamie decided that the quality of life for her dear Buffy was at the end.

Jamie called the clinic this morning sobbing when I answered the phone. Buffy was really bad this morning and she couldn’t stand to watch it any longer. She was bringing her in to put the old beagle down. That was about 9am. An hour later, she requested no one in the room with her but her mom and the dog, and the necessary things to place an IV catheter to make it go smoothly. She also requested that no one do the obligatory “I’m sorry” at that time. She was certain she couldn’t handle it. 3 hours later, Jamie, her mother and Buffy were at the door. I let them in. I showed them to the equipped exam room and asked if she needed help placing the catheter. Jamie asked that I place it. I asked the Lady to please help me do this easily. I popped a 24 gage IV catheter in Buffy’s Left Cephalic vein, placed what’s called a T-Piece, and flushed. The catheter was patent and I taped it in. Then I quietly asked Jamie if she wanted me to do the injection or if she wanted to herself, or if she wanted someone else to do it for her. She asked me to do so.

crying silently with both Jamie and her mom, I slowly injected the euthanasia solution and Buffy’s harsh and strain wracked panting eased to a stop. Her body stopped shaking and she laid her head down peacefully. I checked with my stethoscope for a heartbeat. Unfortunately, it would require more than I had injected to close this circle. I drew up 2 more cc’s and injected them into the catheter. I checked a second time and Buffy was indeed released from this life.

She was Jamie’s best friend for many years. She’d seen her through all her college days, one engagement that was broken and a move away from home only to end up back home for the close of her circle. Jamie said, as I told her that Buffy was indeed gone, “Look mom, she’s not panting anymore, she’s not shaking. She’s at peace. She was ready. She told us this morning.” Jamie then asked if I would shave some hair off Buffy for her to keep. I did so and carefully placed it in a little ziplock bag for her. Jamie then asked if she could stay there a little longer and I told her to stay as long as she needed and to let us know if there were anything we could do. I quit the room quietly, tears running down my face, nose stuffy and it was all I could do to not run from the room sobbing.

My own older dog is 11 now. He turns 12 next month or so. My oldest cat is 16. She is the prissy pet of the house. They are both rapidly showing their age and I do not relish the decision I will need to make for them when it is their time. But I believe as Jamie did… that they will tell me in their ways. I think all animals do, we just have to be available to listen.

There are times when clients tell me “I don’t know how you can do what you do.” There are times I am not certain just how I manage it myself. I do know that someone has to be there, to fight that fight for those who cannot speak for themselves. If not myself and those like me, then who will? One more day, one more circle closed. Today, it was one of 10 circles that came to a close. These are the days that weigh heavy. The days that make footsteps sink deeply in mud, cloud the otherwise brisk blue skies, and deaden the taste of food. But, they are the days that come to us all. May we all have those who care enough for us to say goodbye with grace and dignity.

Richard joins the family

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Saturday, February 09, 2008

Richard joins the family

Ok, So I go in on February 2nd for yet more tests. At noon the nurse

tells me to not drink anything more because my OB doctor might want

to take the baby today. At 3pm, Dr. Cotes comes in, says he’s

consulted with some other OB’s and they all agree….. gestational

diabetes and high blood pressure even things out. How would I like

to have my baby today?

*blink blink* Um…. Ok. When?

In about a half an hour?

Well, Ok then…… I am then tag-teamed by no less than 3 nurses

for additional hospital bracelets, a 16 gage IV in my left wrist,

prepped for surgery, gowned, Foley catheter in and had my bags of

stuff that I came with stashed in the room I was to spend the next 3

days in. Forms are signed, explained and questions asked. I met the

anesthesiologist. I called Matt. As fast as he could, he called his

mother and sister. His mom beat him to the hospital. Christina, his

middle sister came to get the two older boys and take them to her

house. Matt shows up at the hospital just in time to have to turn

around and walk out of the room so that he doesn’t faint when my

foley and IV catheters are put in. I’m transported to another bed,

taken down the hall to surgery. I was wheeled in at 3:45pm, felt

the warm blanket of anesthesia spread from just above my hips down to

my toes, laid back, strapped in and draped. Dr. Cotes comes in,

checks for a good block. Matt is then escorted in wearing what looks

like a white paper jump-suite, a surgery hat and little booties. I

laughed. At 4pm the Dr. made the first cut. at 4:19pm Richard was

born in screaming protest to the cold outside. 1 minute apgar was 8,

5 minute apgar was 9. Weighing in at 7pounds 6 ounces and 19.5

inches long with…. BLONDE hair and blue eyes. LOTS of blonde hair

I might add. Both sets of great grand mothers had blonde hair and at

least one set had blue eyes, so I think that’s where all the

recessive genes came from. He’s beautiful though.

I spent until late this morning in the hospital. One more night in

one of those beds and I think I might have been crippled for life. I

dunno how anyone can sleep in those things for any length of

time. I’m sore. I’m told that repeat cesarian sections can be more

painful, but especially so with a Tubal Ligation that follows which

is what I had. I came home with 6 more bags of stuff than I went to

the hospital with in the first place. I took my living will and

power of attorney just in case. Always good to have that stuff around

if it’s needed.

I kept telling Dr. Cotes that the baby wasn’t going to wait until

February 19th as he wanted…. but *shrug* Neither, apparently could

I. My blood pressure was up enough and my body started getting puffy

in places that it was going to be dangerous to wait much longer. So,

all in all, everything worked out. I’m sore. I had to borrow

Connor’s stool to get up and down from my own bed because it sits so high.

Richard is currently sleeping in his little Moses basket by the

bed. He’ll be using that until we get Christopher’s room

finished. Then Chris will move downstairs and Richard will share the

room with Connor. Connor already dotes on his baby brother and talks

to him. When Richard was screaming in the car on the way home due to

hunger, Connor had sympathy tears for his brother because he couldn’t help and so desperately wanted to do so.

All in all, though it was a day different than I initially expected

it to be, things went well, everyone is home, healthy, happy and

settling in. I am blessed with the best family and extended family

and friends a person can have.

Amazing loves

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Amazing Loves

Current mood: melancholy

Category: Life

When I was a little girl, like most little girls, I had the princess syndrome. I wanted to be swept up off my feet by someone dashing, brave, dangerous and all that. As I got older I realized that it just doesn’t happen that way. The men I got involved with for what ever reason were always either too independent to have a relationship, too vain to deal with, or too full of themselves to care about anyone other than themselves. Until I met Matt. I swear he’s the most kind, caring and patient individual I have ever known. He treats me better than I could wish for and certainly better than I deserve. We started out as friends and fell in love not long after that. 7 years later it’s still going strong.

When I had my son Connor, the world was new again. Watching him grow from a tiny infant to a person with quite a personality has been a joy and a challenge. It’s a different kind of love. Connor has special magic. He charms everyone and always has. Sending him to school this fall will be both an adventure for him and a learning experience for me. I will miss him. Probably more than I’m willing to think about right now. It took a while after he was born for me to come to terms with the huge change in my life, but I have fallen in love with my son. I never knew that could really happen. I’d heard about it from other moms, but never knew just how much it could affect me. I am filled with joy and wonder everyday that I was given such a gift in him.

Now I have my other son Richard. He has a different kind of magic. One I have not figured out yet. He’s blonde rather than dark, with blue eyes rather than brown. He’s a chubby baby rather than the long legged baby with a big head that Connor was. He wants to be held all the time. Connor didn’t care one way or the other. But, also with Richard, I have fallen in love with my son. His special smiles that are only for mommy make my stomach flip over. Just as Connor’s still do. I just never knew that this kind of very special love existed. I am so very lucky that I have a wonderful guy who is an amazing father and two wonderful sons that have made the world new for me every day in different ways. The love between my sons and me is rather amazing. The love between Matt and myself is also. They are also very different, even though they continue to amaze me every day.

Now there is also my stepson Chris. He’s 15. He’s heavy in the middle of teen angst and the PPPM syndrome. Monosyllabic answers, grunts and slamming doors are his mantra. There are times that I wonder if he’ll make it to the next year before either Matt or I kill him. The world according to Chris is that it should revolve around Chris. He’s only lived with us for about 3 years now. He is a victim of an abusive stepfather (both physically and mentally) and a biological mother who can’t take responsibility for anything she does to save her life. I’m pretty sure she’s a meth addict at this time also. He’s come a long way. He bought me a mother’s day card but not his “real” mom. I was shocked and kind of proud. But I am still reminded everyday in some way that I’m not his real mom. IN the long run, I know I make a difference and I love the kid, but I’ll be honest, there are days when I want to run screaming from the house with my two boys to save my sanity too.( I won’t tell you what I want to scream.) But I do the best I can. The rules here have not changed in 3 years. The expectations are the same. Punishment to fit the crime so to speak also exists. No homework completed? no tv, games, books, nothing. chores only. Yes, I’m a horrible mean stepmonster. But the kid isn’t failing out of school this year. He’s not been suspended so many times he’s in danger of being expelled, and he’s not retreated into himself so far that Matt couldn’t reach him. He’s getting better. It’s not easy. Hell, there are days it’s downright awful for me. But he’s Matt’s son and part of this family too. A stepmother’s love is a harder love to describe. It is laced with frustration, insecurity, loathing for the biological mother who hurt this child so much, and a want to do the right thing, knowing it may also be the most difficult.

Time to go have a conversation with Richard, kiss Connor in while he naps and become the homework Nazi for Chris. All day, every day……

Perspective

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Perspective

Category: Pets and Animals

Last night, amidst the calls of stupidity that everyone I work with hates to get at 11pm, someone called about a stray kitten that had wandered into her yard. She wanted to do something for it, but she could tell it had maggots and it had a bit hole in it’s back. I told her that she could bring it in, turn it in as a stray. We would do what we could for it, but if the infestation of maggots was bad enough, we would, most likely put the kitten to sleep. The woman started sobbing on the phone saying she didn’t want that to happen because she cares about animals so much. I tried to explain that I too, care about animals, but sometimes the cure is worse for the animal than the disease, and sometimes the best thing we can do, is end suffering. She thanked me and hung up.

About an hour later, a young man showed up with the kitten. He turned it in as stray, filling out the card that states that once it is turned over, the person turning over the animal cannot call to get information about that animal later. It becomes property of the county. This protects us and the shelter from horrible accusatory calls about killing animals because all we care about is money…. ad nauseum.

The kitten indeed had maggots. Hundreds of them. Tiny though they were, they were well dug in. The kitten also had been partially de-gloved on it’s hind end, had a hole near the spine from anything like a BB gun to another animal to what ever one might imagine. It looked deep enough to have compromised the lower intestine. She had some odd wound on the lower joint of a back leg that had abscessed as well. She was able to walk despite all this. To top it all off, she was purring. Rubbing her little cute tabby face all over my hand as I looked her over. Unfortunately, we are not allowed to perform extensive care for strays. Had we just cleaned her up and put wet-to dry bandages on her and sent her to the shelter, they would have put her down right then, rather than take the time and give her a chance. We all knew this. I asked for the keys to the lockbox so that I could do what I hate doing most of all. I felt the tears well as I told her I was sorry over and over and over. I laid her on her side to find her heart and promptly inserted the needle. It sounds horrible, but it’s faster and easier on them than trying to find a vein in something so small and squirmy. She was probably in so much pain anyway, she didn’t feel it. She never even flinched. She kept purring as I pushed the pink solution and held her little head sobbing and saying I’m sorry. As the pupils of her eyes dialated I started to sing softly the only song I know to sing at a time like this… No Nobis. Everyone thinks I’m strange at work anyway, but they look at me even stranger when I do that. When I could no longer hear a heartbeat and her blink reflex was gone, I curled her up as she should be, placed her in the big blue bag and secured it closed. Another life ended…. so little, so innocent and so unfair. There are times when I hate what I do….. that is one of them.

Makes my own world seem so trivial sometimes when I have days like that…. yanno?

trust

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Thursday, November 13, 2008

finding out who you can trust at work… and who you can’t.

This last week I found out who I can trust and who I can’t at work. Childish pranks that mess with someone’s home life is not cool. But it has given me a different perspective on the two people who did it. One I didn’t trust anyway…. the other, well I was greatly hurt and surprized. I don’t know what I did to either of them to warrant such a thing, but they now have Karma to worry about. Blood magic is powerful. Karma is even more so. So now Mandee, and Adrian, not only are you not trusted, you aren’t even in the circle of friends I can talk to at work. Sad really… your loss. And whether you know it or not… those of us who know you did it look upon you in the same way…. distrust, disgust, sadness and pity. You did it to yourselves…… You get to pay for it.

The Face of Death

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

The Face of Death

Most people who work in any kind of healthcare field know that death has a smell. It is distinct, ever permeating, lingering and tell-tale. Death also has a face. That of giving up, been trying too long, in too much pain, the suffering, the abandonment, devoid of all hope. This is the face of yesterday which haunts me still today.

A man brought in a coonhound of some sort to the ER yesterday afternoon late. She’d had 3 puppies. He thought he had seen one the night before coming out feet first. That was over18 hours ago. She was branded. She lay on the floor of the lobby, too weak to stand, or even attempt to get up. I don’t even remember her name. I picked her up and carried her to the back treatment table where I took her vitals. Her brown eyes looked up at me. “I’m tired”, she said. “I hurt so much”. She stank. She had horse manure and hay stuck to her feet. Her tail was covered in dried blood, placenta and merconium. Her ears were dirty inside and smelled like rising bread. She was so miserable. I stayed with her while the doctor went to talk to the owner.

She had her first three puppies on WEDNESDAY. Today was SUNDAY. Five days she lay trying to have the remaining puppies. Five days. I bent over her and held her head in my arms telling her how sorry I was. No one should have to go through this. No one should have to live like this. She sighed and nuzzled closer. Probably the first human contact she’d really had like that ever. She was, “an outside dog”. She’d had her puppies outside in the snow and cold on the coldest week of the season thus far. I was livid.

A few minutes later, we were given permission to do the emergency C-section on her. I placed an 18 gage IV catheter in her right cephalic vein, started the fluids and carried all 65 pounds of her to surgery. We masked her down with ISO, intubated her, flipped her over and shaved her belly. Scrubbed and prepped, with heart, breathing, temperature and O2 monitors going, the Doctor started the surgery.

The first horn of the dog’s uterus looked normal post-partum. The dog’s heartrated held at 130, resperations at 14 and O2 sats at 99%. The other horn came out. Perforated in more places than a soak hose, the foul stench filled the room. Both the Veterinarian and I gagged and did our best to not vomit into the kick buckets on the floor of surgery. Clammped off, tied off and cut off, the leaking rotting uterus containing three rotting dead puppies was tossed into the trash. The dr. said she wasn’t going to tell us not to try to save the remaining three puppies, but didn’t think we’d have any luck. Between you and me, I wasn’t going to cut into that mess to reveal what I knew to be decaying bodies to try to save them for a life like this dog had led. It was better this way. At inspection of the intestinal tract, it looked as if the dog might not make it out of the clinic after the surgery, the walls of the intestines were becoming polka-dotted. Something called Petichia which heralds the onset of DIC. (Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation- imminent and painful death) But on we tried. Then the dog’s breathing stopped and the heartrate dropped to 35. We have a kick ass team at our clinic. We’ve worked together so long that we all knew what to do. The words “Crashing Dog in Surgery” rang out and drugs appeared as I bagged the dog, Kimmie did CPR and Adrian shot drugs through her IV ports at amazing speed. Two rounds of drugs and we had a strong heartbeat with spontaneous respirations. We finished flushing out the abdomen and began to close. She was doing well. We’d been in surgery an hour now. Then her breathing stopped and she flatlined. Drugs came again, more CPR and more bagging. We worked her for 25 minutes this time, 4 rounds of drugs. Still flatlined. We let her go.

Tears rolled down my face as I watched Dr. M close the abdomen with continuous sutures that she never uses on a live animal for fear of them ripping open like a petfood bag. The monitors were left on and the Oxygen was left running. Hoping for what we knew wouldn’t come, we finished closing and Adrian got the cadaver bag, removed her IV and I extubated her. We turned her over and I watched her spirit leave her body, her eyes blank and unseeing stared out.

“Time to call the owners, they are going to be mad.” Said Dr. M. I wanted to scream. It was all I could do not to go out there and beat this man with a baseball bat as it was when I found out he’d left her like this for 5 days. I didn’t give a rat’s ass how HE felt about this at all. All I could see were the unseeing eyes of this poor dog who had pleaded with me just a couple hours before to make it all stop through her eyes. Well, it was over now. She’d never have to go back to being a breeding dog who never saw people except to hunt or check on the puppies. She was 7. 2 years older than is recommended to breed and have young, she’d suffered and endured that which no human or animal should for almost a week.

It’s been a day now since this happened almost. I am still seeing her eyes. I can still smell her as she was when she came into the clinic. Usually writing this stuff down helps me to not carry it with me so much, I have a feeling that this will stay with me a while. A few of them have over the 13 years or so I’ve been doing this. Some of them wonderful memories, some of them like this one, haunting, sad, infuriating. I dreamed about her last night. I saw her face this morning when I woke up. How much longer I can do this remains to be seen. I think I care too much sometimes to be effective, to do a good job and stay sane. But if I don’t at least try to fight the good fight and help those who cannot speak for themselves…… who amongst us will?

Would you?

Owl update

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Friday, June 22, 2007

Owl update

Well, the baby Barred owl went to a vet for the pinning of its legs. The first vet said it needed external fixation… and she didn’t have enough of the right pins to do it. So, he went to another vet. He survived surgery. Was standing after surgery and seemed to be doing well. However, when they came in this morning, the little guy was dead on the floor of his cage. I guess it was just too much for him. It’s sad, but at least we gave it a valliant try. Maybe next time. Barred owls are my favorite owls.

On a happy note, I drove north an hour to pick up a bird for transport to TRAC and I don’t think there’s a thing wrong with it other than it’s thin and needs hunting/flying practice. So, off he goes today to TRAC and a “mommy” red tail hawk to teach him what he needs to know, a flight barn where he can bounce around with no fear of getting shot out of the sky, or flying into a car.

Some days, you’re the windshield, some days you’re the bug….. Today is a little of both.

Deep in the night…..

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Deep in the Night

Current mood: accomplished

Category: Pets and Animals

I volunteer for Three Rivers Avian Center here in WV. ((www.tracwv.org)). They rescue, rehab and return non-game wild birds. Most of what they do are birds of prey. Ron and Wendy are two of the most amazing people I have ever been gifted to know.

Tonight, a baby Barred Owl came into the clinic. It was about 12:30am. The girl had found him on the side of the road lying there, flapping its wings. He wouldn’t get up. Upon intake, I found that he wouldn’t get up because he was unable to do so. He had two badly fractured legs. One is bad, two is…. well, it’s not good for the home team. He also had a wounded wing. Xrays would show that the wing may have bullet fragments in it. For me, there was enough density to the little fragments that I didn’t think it was anything else.

Not wanting to give up, even though I’m not certain even now that he’ll make it through the night, I did basic life support. Wendy asked if I felt like I could splint the legs. I said I would give it a try. I cut open a syringe case, and used it to splint both legs. After he was awake from anesthesia, I tube fed him, gave him stress vitamins, fluids, pain meds and steroids. He clicked his little beak at me in the way that owls do telling me he wasn’t pleased. Warning me that he’s big and tough. Right now, he’s in a carrier, looking like the prince and the pea with all his padded bedding. He’s on the back porch. He still can’t stand, but at least his legs are not going to flop around in there and damage more muscle tissue. We’ll see what happens.

I am always amazed and honored that Ron and Wendy trust me enough to give me leave for such proceedures. Their trust in me with the birds of prey means more than they can know. I hope that this owl makes it. But, even if he doesn’t, I will have tried with everything I have for a cause I believe to be noble. My co-workers basically put up with me and my “bird love” when it comes to the wild birds. Most of them, though they love the hawks, owls, falcons and eagles, don’t like to handle them or are afraid of them. I guess I just treat them as I would wish to be treated if I were that scared and sick or injurred and some strange species found me. They are truly majestic creatures…. I am honored to work with them… even when it’s

Deep in the night….

LH

Animals and the lessons they teach

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

animals and the lessons they teach

Current mood: contemplative

This is taken directly from the DVM magazine which comes to our clinic every month. This is from August 2007.

A Cat’s actions teach a lesson about life.

Here is a true story about the value of life. Its profound message rises out of the ashes of a potentially deadly fire, and the heroic efforts of man and animal. As you read it, ask yourself about the value you place on life.

She was just a stray, short-haired, nameless cat with five kittens, trying to make it on the mean streets of New York City. She had set up housekeeping in a dilapidated, abandoned garage, recently subject to a number of fires. She scoured the neighborhood for scraps of garbage fo help nourish her growing brood.

All of this changed at 6:06pm on the evening of March 29, 1996. A fire of suspicious origin quickly engulfed the garage. The cat family’s home was in flames. Ladder Company 175 responded and soon had the blaze under control. One fireman, David Giannelli, heard the kittens’ cries. He found three of them just outside the building, another three quarters of the way across the street and the fifth on the sidewalk. The kittens were too young to have escaped on their own.

Giannelli noticed that each kitten’s burns were progressively more severe; apparently some waited longer for rescue as the mother carried them to safety one at a time.

The New York Daily News of April 7, 1996 gave this account of what happened next:

Giannelli discovered the mother cat in a nearby vacant lot, unable to move without pain. The sight filled him with compassion. The cat’s eyelids were swollen shut, apparntly from intense smoke. The pads of her feet were badly burned. There were second-degree burns on her face, ears and legs.

Giannelli found a cardboard box and gently placed her and the kittens inside. Though she couldn’t see them, she touched her offspring one by one with her paw, as if counting them, Giannelli said.

When they arrived at the North Shore Animal League, the prognosis was “guarded” (They could live or die, but at this time the outcome was unpredictable). Medication and intravenous fluids to combat shock were administered to the brave feline, followed by soothing antibiotic creams for her burned skin. She was placed in an Oxygen cage to help her breathe. The entire staff was anxious about the outcome but with in 48 hours, the heroine was sitting up. Her swollen eyes opened. There was no damage to the sclera or corneas.

One of the tiny kittens died.

Stop and reflect

Now put yourself in the situation that faced this courageous mother: Despite her natural fear of fire, she entered the smoke-filled, burning building to rescue her crying babies. To go in once to carry out one or two of the kittens would have been incredible. But for her to put her life in jeopardy five times, each time suffering additional burns to her feet, legs, ears and face is difficult to imagine. The courageous feline was named Scarlett, because the extensive burns caused her skin to turn red.

What can we learn from this incident? Simply this:

The lives of all living beings, animal and human are precious. I’m sure you will agree that none of us can create a living being. But we do have the capacity to destroy life – all life on this planet. Each of us who reads and contemplates this story has, in some way, the opportunity and obligation to sustain life. Before our actions directly or indirectly take the life of any creature, we should ask ourselves: What is our motive for doing so?

This essay was adapted from an article titled, “A mother’s bonding with her babies, ” in the journal Awake, Sept. 22, 1996, pages 24 and 25.

*****************

There are many times I take my work home with me in some form. I have posted several times about the really bad days. This article hit me in a way that said what I know in my head, but sometimes my heart feels otherwise… I am not the only one with such compassion for animals. I am not the only one who cries from being so damn angry at people and the way they treat pets and strays. I am not the only one who has rescued a debilitated animal for whatever reason….. It made my heart sing to read the story. It made me think…. More than I probably wanted to at the time. I hope it makes those of you who read it think also.