I feel like I should apologize in advance for this post precisely because it is full of feelings, and, let me warn you, some are real “downers.” But sometimes we have to look at reality, and sometimes seeing what one person went through gives another strength. (That’s one of the appeals that history had for me: historians don’t look away from the shitty things that humans have done in the past and they try to make sense of it. I don’t know that I make sense of this by the end, but I try.)
The Mistake
I made a mistake. I’d like to explain how I got to the mistake and what it led to.
Stories about individual animals stir people to action.
I’ve been spending too much time on YouTube, looking for motivation and meaning, finding some here and there. It didn’t take long for the YouTube algorithm to learn that I “liked” animal rescue videos, especially ones of incredible people rescuing incredibly, terribly sad dogs. “Takis Shelter” on Crete puts out daily “as they happen” videos. “Happy Doggo” tells a dog’s life story from the streets of Thailand to a shelter and occasionally even to a permanent home in the UK or the US. “Hope for Paws” Animal Rescue posts similar stories that are so thorough that they are educational as well as inspirational. My favorite local rescue, Home for Life shares a few of their activities and doesn’t get nearly enough views. And everyone’s favorite, Dodo presents consistently a neatly packaged story of a dog from hardship to happy home. Stories about individual animals stir people to action.
Being on YouTube was not the mistake. The algorithm put one of Sue Lafaver’s video in front of me and I clicked on it. Sue posts very short videos about the dogs in the “Animal Care Services” in San Antonio, Texas, in the hopes that a rescue organization or a person will see and get the dog out of the shelter. Watching the first few videos, I thought, “Wow, this person figured out one thing she can do to help. She’s spreading the word, making the dogs visible, and showing them to be kind, playful individuals.” I was and am astounded by Sue’s strength to do this every day.
After a few days, I became more curious. I looked up the shelter.
Then I saw the faces on the list. On Sunday, September 24, I saw the list of the ones scheduled to be euthanized the next day. The list included their photos, their names, and their cute habits. The shelter must hope that someone will see a photo and call the shelter with a stay of execution.
I nearly did, after a fitful Sunday night of knowing that those fuzzy faces would be extinguished the next day. Couldn’t I save just one? What’s the saying? “You can’t save the world, but if you save one animal, you’ve saved their world?” Surely Ande would eventually adjust to a new sibling? (Not likely, given how she loses her mind when I bring a lost dog into her yard until the owner is located.) Monday came and the impracticality of driving nineteen hours to San Antonio sunk in. Other sobering thoughts of reality sunk in. I was gutted and crying about those fuzzy faces.
I even got angry that this shelter was called “Animal Care Services.” Anger expressed itself as unfair thoughts. What “care” are the slaughtered receiving? How much service — how many days — are they giving these dogs? How many euphemisms do humans need to hide their true actions behind? Feelings piled up and anger and sadness and futility overwhelmed me that afternoon. I was wading through too many emotions.
It’s easy to forget that adoptable animals are euthanized all around us, every day. But we do know that they are, at least on an intellectual level. We know that thousands of dogs, cats, and other potential pets are killed every day and that this situation is not about to change. I’m not pointing my finger at San Antonio or Texas. Minnesota has kill shelters. On an emotional level, however, when one pauses and thinks about how and why they are killed, it can put a hole in one’s soul.
Massive numbers paralyze people.
We have come to my mistake. My mistake was that I forgot how empathetic I can be, and maybe because I was already starting to get sick, I was feeling extra unable to do anything. (Is that a proper phrase, “extra unable?” Who cares? It describes the feeling.) A spiral of “catastrophizing” gripped me Monday afternoon. I looked up how many animals are slaughtered every day in the U.S.1 It’s staggering. Hard to fathom. Unfathomable to the point of being nearly meaningless. Massive numbers paralyze people. My thoughts ran in a negative direction like rainwater seeking out the sewer. Through tears, I thought things such as, “For what are these animals killed? For humans’ convenience. So we can stroll to the grocery store, commenting on what a beautiful day it is, and pick up a nice juicy piece of meat wrapped in plastic, without having to think about the way that animal was forced to live. So we can live in concrete slabs, in cities, and not have stray dogs following us around, begging us for a piece of that meat. For our convenience, we hide what we do to animals. On an industrial scale. This is madness.”
Anger. Sadness. Futility. Despair.
(I warned you there were real downers.)
Moving Forward
How did I get out this downward spiral? Let’s assume for the moment that I did and that I am the healed soul mentioned in the subtitle. What did I do to stop the spinning?
Self-care is a phrase thrown around a lot; I don’t like using such phrases without knowing what they mean in reality. Self-care looks straightforward in hindsight but it’s a messy thing when one is in the midst of it. I talked to my best friend, who helped me identify other emotions at work in my tears. I was questioning my abilities and the direction I have been focusing my energy. Should I, for example, be doing more to help move legislation in the direction of protecting animals? Animal Folks (www.animalfolks.org) works in Minnesota to promote and educate people about legislation that helps animals. As part of that same self-care, I wrote in my journal about it. I could see more clearly that I am spread fairly thin and taking on more projects would likely derail the ones I am working on.
Another part of self-care was reminding myself how I felt when I watched a particular video by Takis. On top of running a shelter that houses 400 or 500+ dogs, Takis regularly checks surrounding areas, “the rubbish,” where he feeds strays until they trust him well enough to be taken in. In this particular video, however, Takis found a stray dog who was in critical need of care. The video is graphic and if you don’t want to watch it, I’ll understand. The little pup appeared blind and standing in a bucket of water at first. Takis could say only, “oh my god” over and over as the poor thing ran but couldn’t go far; he had diarrhea and who knows what else. It was one of those “as it was happening” videos: raw footage and uncertain future. Not a neatly packaged story. And I happened to see it just as it was released so I was caught up in the real-time drama. (To set your mind at ease, the pup got the help it needed, was only temporarily blind, and has settled into the shelter, from where we hope he will get adopted.)
Watching that first video and the emotions it sparked got me thinking: Takis is ready to help. He goes around on his moped and has methods and teams for taking care of animals both inside his shelter and around it. He has built a routine and a network that allows him to act when needed, which for him is pretty much a daily need. My take-away from it: Takis is one exemplar. I want to be ready to take care of an animal when the time comes.
Another part of self-care last week was…literal self-care, because I got a bad head cold and spent more hours sleeping than awake for a couple days. A forced break from thinking was helpful in the middle of this “mistake.” Idealism is wonderful but pragmatism is also necessary, and if you aren’t healthy, you can’t take care of another creature and you can’t be ready.
The final part of self-care was thinking about compassion fatigue2 and full-time rescuers. I am very grateful for them and I hope that they are taking care of themselves, too. A positive message inspires people to take action better than a negative message, but the negative is part of reality. Too often full-time rescuers are built up like superheroes, impervious to pain, and able to work “tirelessly.” They are told by social media marketers to put out positive messages, for good marketing reasons. But there’s no such thing as working tirelessly when the work is never-ending and no one is impervious when the victims have no voices of their own to ask for help; full-time rescuers see and absorb the animals’ pain and ask for help on their behalf. If too many positive messages dominate the scene, the result can be an image that no one can live up to. Compassion fatigue has been a lesson learned thanks to people paying attention. My “mistake” gave me the tiniest taste of it.
So many web platforms encourage, wittingly or unwittingly matters not, a type of performance. I believe that a piece of writing ought to have purpose; on the other hand, I also believe that writing is thinking. This piece falls more in the latter category than the former, because I wanted to get it out quickly. It’s raw thinking yet to be forged into purpose. I try not to perform (generally speaking and here especially), but I also don’t want to leave you hanging. For me, my conclusion is that I need to keep taking steps in the direction that allows me to get ready.3 I do have a direction that I know will lead to a life that allows me to contribute both to improving animals’ lives as well as my own, and I have a plan that is flexible. I am willing to change as circumstances change. This substack is part of it.
Pledges
As a small step in the right direction, I would like to ask you to consider pledging to this substack, A Good Spot, as it would be greatly encouraging and well, simply, AWESOME. (Pledging is not paying right away; a subscriber pledges to become a paid subscriber if and when I turn on paid subscriptions, which I don’t plan to do for a long while. When I do, every thin dime will go directly to rescued animals.)
And, if by the end of 2023 I have five (just 5!) people pledging support, I will donate $100 to one of the animal rescues I talk about (but I won’t turn on paid subscriptions to do that).
If you have to change your subscription with me to pledge, here’s a link to Substack’s help page for doing just that: https://support.substack.com/hc/en-us/articles/360044105731-How-do-I-change-my-subscription-plan-on-Substack-.
P.S.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. I apologize if it was tough to read, either stylistically and emotionally. Be assured, I am fine. I wanted to share emotions and thinking through emotions as an interesting and potentially helpful exercise. As always, I welcome your thoughts.
If you are ready, take a look at the U.S. Animal Kill Clock: https://animalclock.org.
The link is to an article from 2022 about compassion fatigue for animal rescuers. Here’s the URL: https://missiondrivengoods.com/blogs/stories/what-is-compassion-fatigue-in-the-animal-rescue-community.
I realize that “to get ready” is ambiguous here. “To be ready” to rescue animals means, to me, to have the time, resources, and infrastructure that all allow me not to let a rescued animal down. Right now I work full-time as a history professor and am working toward creating A Good Spot in the Upper Peninsula. It will take time.