People involved with animal rescue are a special breed of human, oftentimes not for the better, as I found out during several unique situations in my life. After my werewolf, uh, M'Loot Mal*, pulled me aside for a bagel bite early one morning, I was too fucked up to care for him anymore. I had promised Ted that if couldn't take care of him, I would always provide for him (ALWAYS), and as a woman of my word, I always keep the promises I make. Me and my mom placed him with a loving "empty-nesting" wacko; someone we would never trust in our day-to-day lives, but at that point, it was either some kook in upstate New York who used to kennel Mals, or we sold him on the open market like he was a car from Craigslist. Uh uh. Not happening.
So, one afternoon, a couple of uneducated hicks from rural suburbia picked up my Mal at a boarding kennel in Brooklyn, but before that, they sat at my mom's small kitchen table, giving me the final sales pitch about why they would be good "pet parents", watching me avidly with greedy beady little eyes that tracked my signature across his breeding papers granting them ownership, with my crutches leaning conspicuously against the chair I sat on, but not without first asking me if he really was "free". If you don't know what Snow Dogs represent to me in my culture, try this one on for size: ask a professional working cowboy to part with his favorite work horse, or the barren cat lady next door to give up her little "Snuggly Wuggly" with all the cutesy-poo outfits, too, and you've got it down pat. I spent many hours creating the perfect companion, of a kind that brought my people to this land from very far away. They gave us this life we have, this destiny that we are so blessed to receive daily. It's, like, "way spiritual"**, in Anglo terms.
It hurt, but it would allow me to keep tabs on him through them, and that crazy-ass woman cared for him until the very end, because I saw the pictures she posted on social media (almost in real time), as she sat in the backseat of her car saying "goodbye" to one of the most rockin' spirits this planet has every seen, her eyes red from crying, but he was dying, and that was that. Honestly, I'm glad it was her and not me, though I offered to pick him up for her, or be there to hold her hand. I was sitting in another car when my mom and middle bro had put down my Samoyed many years ago, and it is one of the most excruciating pains I have ever felt in my life, but that's the way real life is. It hurts so good, you know? I wouldn't trade the love of a childhood best friend, so special to my particular ancestry, for all the tea in China. It means everything to me. I owe them my life.
But, that's not how fucked up people treat animals. They don't come from animist cultures that revere them as part of the Holy Spirit powering the entire universe, sacred fellow life forms that are a crucial part of this biosphere we all live in, worthy of our respect, just like we do it. Crazy Euros are no different in this "new" world sometimes than they were back in the old countries that place objects far above people, for no good solid reasons that make any real sense, other than their own rampantly unchecked ill health. I worked with such a violent, foaming-at-the-mouth bitch, who told me she rescued just one type of dog that she liked (letting all the other types of dogs die in "kill shelters" or puppy mills, if they weren't "her" special little breed), because, like I said, she's a real fucking bitch. She wanted me fired for getting injured, not once offering to shelter my type of dog, the very ones that brought Indo-Americans to this world across the Bering Land Mass many moons ago.
No, that fucking cunt wanted me and my dog dead, but she pretended to be a typically "bleeding heart liberal" to get free passes for her psychotic behavior openly manifested between calming doses of Valium at this particular wacky family business. Yeah...like that. Another no-talent dipshit even went so far as to tell her in front of me that she was, like, the best person ever, for using animals like pawns in her fucked up game of "madness played to look like pure chance". She justified her hatred towards her fellow humans by telling me more than once that she liked her terriers way more than me (and her beautiful, orange shorts-wearing daughter), because her parents (who met at the psychiatric institutional facility) "never showed her affection". That's right, this bitch tried to kill me because of her neurotic wealthy parents from Connecticut. Makes sense, no?
No, it doesn't. But that's not all. She went on to tell me (within clear earshot of the entire small company, because she yelled all of her answers by deliberately neglecting her hearing loss), that she adopted a terrier to a family with toddlers after finding out that the dog she "rescued" had eaten the face off of an elderly woman who died in her apartment alone. Wait a minute...what they fuck did you just say to me? I was baffled by her intentional neglect towards people. It was positively shocking. What about the children now left alone with the animal? How long had the dog been alone?! Dogs don't just start chowing down on old dead people unless they're absolutely starving to death. Well, she explained in a condescending tone, she didn't "have to" tell them by law, because dog rescue doesn't work that way. OK, bitch, fine, but don't you think this family has a right to know? Jeezus, you had small kids once, you fucking horror show. What about that?
Even without the cursing in my head (she'd use that as leverage against me, if I dared to use "unprofessional" language in front of her), my intent was perfectly clear. She narrowed her eyes at me in obvious disdain, and typically at this point, she would either A) clam up completely by turning her back on me, so she could play the "deaf card" and/or B) gloss over my point by waiting a beat, to make it seem like I did something wrong, then continuing on after a moment or so: "...anyway...", like I hadn't just made perfect sense, which I did. She closed her eyes halfway to telegraph her dislike for me, then said "Well, the records are sealed", turning her back to me completely, like the conversation was over. Except for this, Lisa. It's not over, bitch. It's over when I say it's over, or until I prosecute you for every legal infraction you've made. This conversation is still on the table, because now I hold all the cards. Is that clear enough for you? I think it is.
* http://omalmalamutes.com/omal/kotzebuevsmaloot.htm
** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animism
