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Hello dear readers,
I wanted to let you know how excited I am to attend the American Humanist Association’s annual conference this year. None of the cost was paid for by those of you who are generous enough to support my work with your hard-earned dollars. I get on a plane on Friday, and I will be sharing what happens.
Rather than using my subscription proceeds for other purposes, I pay your generosity forward to help dogs and cats in need. The two primary recurring donations go to my local Humane Society and Grey Muzzle.
I was a bad pet owner the first time around, and I’ll never stop trying to atone for keeping Monkey in a crate while no one was home. She was a lovely creature, and she died in my arms after being with me for about five years. I think she had a brain aneurysm. I miss her still. She taught me about myself, and about why dogs are in many ways better than we humans. Mostly, though, she taught me about love.
A dog’s love is precious, and yet so many of us take our dogs for granted. Monkey taught me that I can be a better human, and she taught me patience, and forgiveness. One day, when I am ready, I will post a picture. And give more context.
I used to be married, and my ex could not pass a stray dog without stopping to coax it into the vehicle so she could help it thrive. It got crowded in our 2,000 sq. ft. ranch house. It was raucous. It was chaotic. It was filled with love until I went to war. That’s another story for another day. Sometimes things spiral.
This story is about how dogs and humans connect, and about where your subscriptions go. They go towards being kind to dogs, and supporting their needs. In particular, abused dogs, and senior dogs who do not have a forever home.
It is because I am evolving, and I am trying to live what many canines have showed me about what matters in life.
Sweetie dropped dead in the hallway while I was getting ready for work. I didn’t go to work that day. Instead, I dug her grave by hand, and I said some parting words to thank her when I lowered her into it. We had 21 acres, and I dug in a place where I thought appropriate, and planted a tree on top. Sometimes I dream of finding her in the hallway, gone.
She was a rescue.
Gilbert died of a brain tumor, and Maggie passed away from the varying afflictions that come with surviving until it all comes together and shuts you down. Both had many good years in between this picture and their expirations.
They were both rescues.
Bandit was deaf, so he didn’t know that his bark sounded funny. He was incredibly smart, and spent his life herding all the other rescues, because that’s what he was born to do, and that’s what he did until he passed away.
I’ve been a part of rescuing hundreds of dogs from other humans who didn’t live up to what these beautiful creatures were offering. When I’m laying on my deathbed, I’ll be thinking of all the fur babies who crossed the bridge before me, and I know that they way I’ve treated them, and every living thing my life touched, mattered.
Thank you for being a subscriber, and thank you for sharing these memories. If you stick around, I promise to share more memories of the many amazing mutts (and purebreds) who forced me to become a better human just by being themselves.
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