RESCUE DOGS ON A STORMY AFTERNOON

 

Winter storm
power out all day
trees fallen across the highway
and dervish-dancing
outside my window
little to do but read about dog rescue
(and the millions for whom
rescue does not come)
and break my heart.

I walk up the hill, walk down,
peek at the ocean, calmer now
that the storm has passed.
Then home, up the too-steep stairs,
down the dark hallway,
into rooms un-alive
when not plugged in
to the outside world.

I light four fat storm candles
for comfort
for company
for pleasure
for light,
pour a glass of wine
and watch birds at the feeder.
The small, shy birds take turns,
respectfully. The fattest stellar jay
intimidates the others,
takes more than his share,
flaps his wings and puffs his chest
and chatters.
(I am trying not to think
"Democrats and Republicans" here.)

Today I am reading a book
about dog rescue
by a woman who fosters dogs.
She wonders why the wave
of dogs never stops.
Her book tour took her through 
the shelters of the American south,
breaking her heart and mine,
the endless suffering of abandoned
and mistreated dogs. Their sad
and seeking eyes.

One shelter, run by a woman of vision,
worked well, gained community
and government support,
proving it can be done.
The author, inspired, thought
"If people knew, they'd care.
A shift would occur in how
we care for animals."

Take care of the ones put on your path,
Wise Woman says.

I call my poet-activist friend:
"It's good we do what we do," I say.
"We use our platform.
People would rather not know;
they try not to know. It's too distressing.
But once they know,
they can't not-know.
And once they do, surely
they will care that all these dogs
are needlessly dying."

We need a paradigm shift
in how we care for animals.

I read somewhere that poets
provide a moral compass,
tackle the hard subjects,
point the way to true north.
People read our words and say
"I've never thought of this before."

We do what we can;
it is never enough,
but it is something.
Who knows who reads our words
and walks away
with hearts
forever changed?

Deep thoughts on a stormy afternoon.