I love you all the same
just don't call them Fur Babies
I never wanted kids.
I’m not sure I would have been a great mom but either way, the timing and the guy and the lifestyle was always a big no, so I just let it slip away.
And by slip away I mean a very organized condom hoarding, rhythm method, pull out or die, Plan B walk of shame to the Walmart pharmacy, keep it light, shag the gardener kind of way. I knew what I was doing.
I don’t want to be attached to anyone legally and financially for the rest of my life with a bambino. For sure I don’t know how some of you do it. I’m sure it’s magical and all that but zero tears were shed when I finally really hit menopause.
I’ve had employees over the years that were much younger and I’ve got the mother hen vibe and all that but…and now here I am living accidentally for three years like Old Mother Hubbard in back water Mexico with all these dogs who are NOT mine. The “miracle” of not spaying and neutering is creating real problems on these streets. The smart ones find my gate and stare inside until I let them in. Not everyone, obviously, I could easily have 100 dogs.
I can still see Mattie’s sad face peeking around the corner back in 2021 during Christmas. All shaky and his eyes glued shut with pus and looking like he was 18 years old. He’d sit under the street light at the Green House where I was living and wait. After a couple meals he was there all the time even if he’d get beat up by other dogs.
Inside I had only Dusty, Brady, River and Tony. Oh and Betty. And Foxy. At that time, I was still in denial that I was really going to have a mountain of dogs and run a shelter.
I finally got Mattie to come inside and lay on this big foam mattress I used to have before everyone chewed it to bits. But it was magic for the bony ones to lay in the sun and feel safe and eat meals of bone broth and good hearty lard and protein and drink water for what seemed like the first time ever.
After I fixed his eyes it turns out he’s not blind. And he could walk. And he’s not even that old, he was just dying from neglect. Maybe a broken heart, even. He has a little bit of an old man personality and is very easy listening (unless chasing an intruder cat or seagull) but Mattie is the sweetest, best boy on the leash, what can I do for you mama sweet boy ever. Occasional pee pee marking on an indoor potted plant but he’s been low on the irritation scales forever.
Others were found in trash cans, like Cookie and her sister Brindy. Cookie, the Velvet Pickle, still acts like she’s not going to live here forever. And I’d love to find her a home. I don’t bond with all of them but we have a cordial feed, walk, play, grooming time. It’s a Shelter after all. A Shelter where they lay over the furniture and run free and get nice bones but it’s a Group Home.
I resent the gig some days, but not for long and I never resent the dogs. I’m sure they’d all be totally fine and happy running freely on the beach and the streets tipping trash and finding fish heads and dirty diapers to eat and not needing me at all. For about two weeks. Maybe a month or more.
Then they’d get run over, distemper, fight wound sepsis, that gross TVT venereal disease that’s going around and giving dogs big giant tomato tumors on their genitals. It gets ugly out there. And then there’s the city employees and others who put out poison and that’s the version of Animal Control in a town with no vet and no support at all for animals.
So we go for walks and play hide and seek with tortilla chips and meat nuggets and listen to old Italian music and dance and some go in the house and some go to the back yard and some are on the patio and then we switch and start again.
There are ear drops and eye drops and tick meds and combing and toy shredding and eating and more walks but I don’t regret any of it. When they finally (hopefully) find homes and are living on some ranch in Montana or Guatemala, I’ll be proud of them and the dogs they have become.
For more info on my rescue efforts, StreetFeed, StreetSpay or to buy a tshirt or donate go to linktr.ee/lolasdogrescue