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Living the Dream?

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A full moon shined down on us as I stood in the back yard waiting for Dory to do her business at 2:15am. The October night was silent, no more croaking frogs or chirping crickets. We are outside because Dory had been screeching at the top of her lungs for my attention for several minutes. I welcomed the quiet and solitude once we were outside. I was alone with my thoughts, just like Dory, being deaf and blind, in her own little world. As I watched her tiny illuminated white image teeter around the fenced yard, I struggled with my mixed feelings of frustration and exhaustion from lack of sleep clashing with my strong desire to protect these old, forgotten, and vulnerable dogs.


Not a day goes by that I don’t feel like giving up. We get daily emails from shelters and individuals asking us to take dogs. People on social media beg us to save these souls. Where are those people now? They disappear once they learn that the dog has a rescue, not considering the rest of the dog’s journey and the people who are often struggling to help them. Life would be so much easier if I didn’t live with challenging dogs. I could sleep through the night and later in the morning! I wouldn’t have to worry about finding homes for the more behaviorally challenged dogs. I wouldn’t have to stress about creative ways to get more donations. I mentally walk through the steps I would need to take if I closed the rescue and I feel a sense of relief. Ah! Peace.


But then I’m hit with tremendous sadness. What would I do with my life if I wasn’t doing this? This has been my dream for many years. I’m here, living the dream. But nobody told me that living your dream is no different than life, made up of yin and yang – where there is a dream there is a nightmare. Well, maybe nightmare is a little too strong a word but it’s definitely not all sunshine and roses.


The difficulties that I face melt away when I look into Olive’s sweet eyes and know that she feels loved and safe (even though she’s always mad at me for not feeding her more!). I ask Ransom for a kiss and he gratefully complies. Boomer no longer hides in fear and sits on my lap with his ball. Those are my rewards. I come back inside and look at the photos of the dogs who have lived here and am reminded of the exhilaration when some were adopted. The yin. Then there’s the sadness when one passes away here. The yang. At least they knew love until the end.



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