It’s been almost 2 days since Chumley (his story will be coming soon, check back later for it) made it back home to Colorado and now I sit here wondering, “Now what?”. I know he’s gone and he’s back with his family but I guess I am not ready for his story to be over. I’ve caught myself numerous times, just as I am about to post another Chumley status on Facebook or make some reference to how awesome his story is. Yes, I know, it’s over. The world has moved on and I should, too. I wish I could but I guess that I am just “stuck”.
Chumley’s story was extra special for me for a number of reasons. The main reason is that he happened upon me while I was “off guard” and contemplating my place in rescue at all. It was an accident, right? That whole, “right place-right time” thing? Or was it? If you believe in what so many do, they claim we are all here for a reason. During the course of my 33 (I think) years of life, I’ve come up with a billion reasons why I am here and a zillion thoughts of what my real purpose is. So, are we not here for one singular purpose? I’m thinking we aren’t. Our sole purpose in life is to make as much of an impact as possible. So really, it’s one thing with a whole waterfall of work.
After Chums left for home and I got the word that he was safe, I knew it was time to move on to another needy case but I still seem to be in neutral, going nowhere. Do I reverse back to the chaotic life of rescue? Do I shift down in to park and get moving on to something else? Or, do I just sit here stalling on the brake hoping that my foot gets tired enough that it slips off and I am moved by some other force? If I’m not holding myself back, where exactly will I go? I think I already know the answer. I’m that car stuck in a hole while you wait at the longest traffic light ever. You sit there holding on to the brake and eventually, you get tired. The car seems to be stopped so you ease off the brake to see if you can just sit there without doing anything. You slowly ease your foot off the petal and then BANG!! you roll backwards into the car behind you.
Rescue is a gigantic pain in the ass. Think of the worst hemorrhoids ever. Half of your intestines are hanging out and try as you may, you can’t really get them back in. It hurts, it burns and you can’t stop thinking about it. Every once in a while you catch some relief but most of the time, it’s always right there waiting to catch you off guard. By stepping back for a while, I am sitting on that cushy donut-butt-pillow-thingy and it’s honestly not giving me much relief. The need to “fix” things is still there. The intensity is still there, although muffled at the moment. The urge to return things to normal hasn’t went away.
The one thing I do know? As long as there are animals in need, they will scream to me. I will try to block my ears and try to protect myself from the screams of anguish and despair but I know I will still hear them. It’s not going to go away. As long as there are animal abusers, neglectful owners, and irresponsible people, I will always be needed and I will always hear the screams for help. What to do now…
Get off the butt-pillow, yank my foot from the brake and slide that bitch into reverse. I’ve got shit to do. As long as society is irresponsible, I’ll live my life in reverse. One step forward, two steps back. One life saved, 2 more lost.