City of Angels

Pondering the kindness of strangers, I feel the need to share a tale of what transpired only two nights ago:

Jackie and I were out traversing the neighborhood, I in the hopes she would actually pee and poop, neither of which she had done in over six hours, she in the simple ecstasy of exploring a new place with no thoughts of defecation.

About an hour into our walk, my hopes dashed but Jackie's come to fruition, I heard a "Mew!" come from the darkness around me near the sidewalk. I looked up into a tree thinking maybe it was a bird. After a few more "Mew's" I came to the conclusion it was clearly a kitten. I couldn't see her anywhere so we walked on a few more steps. Hearing the call again I said to Jackie, "No, wait. Let's go back."

Jackie was kind enough to succumb to my request and I stood beneath the tree trying to figure out where the call was coming from. I was sure it was a lost kitten, and there was a sound of desperation in its voice. I heard it again, only this time it sounded like it came from under a car. (Clearly I need my hearing checked). I turned on my flashlight and saw the outline of a grey kitten mewing beneath the back wheel of a parked car.

Jackie didn't seem the least bit affected, but I wasn't about to try to maneuver her and grab a kitten from beneath a car that might bolt out into the street. I looked behind me, and a house that had been empty only two months ago had a light on. A car was in the driveway and even though it was 11 o'clock at night, I took a chance and knocked on the door.

A woman appeared, clearly taken aback by someone knocking on her door at that hour and her little dog started his alert inside. I motioned toward the car and said, "There's a kitten under the car. Is she yours?" In response she opened the door for me. I was happy to be a girl at that moment. Had I been male, I don't know if she would have opened the door for me at that late hour.

I told her the situation and she grabbed a towel from inside and went out to the car with me. In her nightgown, this Good Samaritan knelt down and picked up the kitten with the towel. As she brought her up into the light I saw the source of the kitten's desperation. She wasn't just lost--she had been attacked. Her front leg was hanging by a thread, the open wound covered with so much dirt and filth I couldn't even see blood coming out. The Good Samaritan pointed out that the kitten's ear was also torn and just as we were about to discuss our next step, the sprinkler system went off.

My cell phone was charging at home, which was the only reason I hadn't called animal control to begin with. The woman ran through the sprinklers to her porch and said, "Okay, I'll take care of this. I don't know what to do with a cat! I don't have cats!" Sounding exactly like me when a kitten enlists my help.

I asked if there was anything I could do and she said, "Maybe you can take your dog home and come back and help me," and ran inside her door.

I knew I couldn't leave Jackie in my apartment, but I could at least grab my cell phone and call one of the numerous cat owners in my building who might know what to do. The fact that I actually had taken a Pet CPR and First Aid class had slipped my mind. This kitten needed more than first aid--she needed a vet who could perform surgery.

After speaking with a cat owner whose only suggestion was to call Animal Control since the kitten could have been attacked by something with rabies and who knows what else that could infect Jackie, I booked it down the five blocks back to the woman's house.

By the time I arrived back, she had called Animal Control, given the kitten baby aspirin, and made a tourniquet in the hopes of stopping the bleeding. The kitten began to cry again, so I left so she could get back inside, thankful that she opened the door to a stranger that night.

As Jackie and I continued walking, I wondered what the kitten's outcome would be. I figured that Animal Control would euthanize her. You see three-legged dogs all the time, but three-legged cats? Probably too hard of a life for them. And who knows how long she had been crying in the darkness while her life source drained out of her. I could only hope that if she could not get veterinary care that she would die knowing at least one other being on this planet cared and tried to help her.

The Good Samaritan wasn't home the next day when I walked by, and today I left a note on her car asking her to call me. While I was writing the beginning of this tale, she called me. So now you too will know the outcome of this story. It was heartbreaking. Animal Control said they euthanize most kittens that young and small because the survival rate is so slim, regardless of if she was injured or not. The lady offered to adopt her even if she did have three legs. She called the next day, not sure if she really wanted to know, but knowing she had to. She was informed that the kitten had passed away due to natural causes, not euthanized.

Probably the shock and trauma was too much. I don't consider it "natural causes", but I suppose an attack by a natural being makes it a "natural cause." I had written in my note to her, and reiterated over the phone again, that I suspected the kitten wouldn't make it, but was glad that before the little life ended that she knew the touch and love of human hands, even for just a brief moment. She didn't die alone in agony beneath the wheel well of a car.

At first I was upset that I couldn't help the kitten because I had Jackie with me. But had I not had Jackie, I never would have been walking down the street and heard the kitten's cry. Had I had my cell phone, I simply would have called animal control, instead of enlisting the help of a stranger. And just by this woman opening the door, it brought back to me the kindness of strangers when a helpless animal is involved. She probably had to go to work in the morning unlike me, but she stayed up, trying to calm the terrified kitten who was in pain so excruciating I can't even imagine. She waited for Animal Control and did her part for the little life that somehow ended up outside her door, not anyone else's.

We didn't save that life. Her physical injuries were far worse than either she or I could fix. But maybe that's not why we were all placed together. Maybe some benevolent spirit knew that the pain of living was just too much for this kitten. Our purpose was not to save her life, but give that life just a glimmer of love, a moment of caring, before returning to the spirit world. She was in too much physical pain; but we could try to ease the emotional pain. She did not die alone beneath a car in the darkness of night, the feline angel of death beside her. Instead an angel reached out and tapped me on the shoulder and enlisted my help to find other help. Before this life ended, she would know love and care from human hands. And she would bring two strangers together in this city, to prove that when it comes to the welfare of an animal, the walls we put up between us can be broken down and we can open the door to a stranger in need.

Rest in peace, little kitten. Your life was not a waste. I am sorry for the circumstances you endured and pain you experienced. But I hope you felt the love radiating from that stranger's hands and voice as she tried to soothe you in your moment of need. And know that it assured me that here where gangs roam the streets, people are gunned down in drive-by shootings, and humans can seem to only show hate, that love still exists and that when we least expect it, we are shown that the City of Angels is aptly named. For in the dark of night, when you need it most, there are angels. You need only open your mind and heart to find them.

A Happy Anniversary

August 7th, 2007 my journey across the states ended when I dropped off Bogey at the San Diego Humane Society. But I didn't feel different or changed from the journey. Perhaps because even though the long haul drive had ended, the journey didn't end, nor will it ever.

So I find it only fitting that one year later on August 7th, 2008 after seeing a posting about a dog in need, I drove to the local Animal Shelter and snatched a dog away from Death's Door.

A couple had seen Jackie, an 11 month old German Shepard according to the shelter website, and could see in her amber eyes that her life should not be snuffed out just because her previous owner couldn't keep her. They offered a donation to any rescue who would take her. A Jindo rescue did just that--since she wasn't just German Shepard, but clearly Jindo as well. The dog was blessed, as shortly after the rescue laid claim to her, an adopter sealed the deal. The adopter was perfect, and Jackie would have another Jindo to play with in their home. The only problem was the adopter was a wee bit far away, even for Los Angeles standards. So that's where I came in.

The adopter offered to drive half way to LA for the little girl, so I offered to drive the rest of the way to meet her. But as we were starting the planning, Jackie was pulled from the adoption website and red-listed. Red listed: meaning she's next in line to be put down given the need. So we needed to get her out now.

Thanks to numerous people who cared for this little canine who may never have even met her, it was finally arranged. And so there I was, chauffeur to the canine, offering not just my services but my place as a bed and breakfast until this morning. (Thank you SAG for the de facto strike--I never would have been able to help if the town wasn't in shut down mode till you all decide how much money you deserve)

When the contact at the shelter brought out Jackie I was a little taken back. I knew she was underweight, but I could see her hip bones jutting out an inch from her back and saw the ripples of her ribs along her side. Jackie shrieked bloody murder when the woman simply touched her--and she really was just touching her. If you didn't see her, you would have thought she was stabbing her repeatedly. I could understand how she ended up on the Red List. She was terrified, and terrified dogs simply don't get adopted. Aside from that, adopting out a dog who bites, nips, or isn't exceptionally tolerant, can be a liability. I even had to sign a waiver saying I wouldn't sue the city knowing that Jackie was a "fear biter."

After handling with kid gloves and coming to the conclusion that the harness was simply not going on her, I had to take the chance and let her ride not buckled in. I didn't push her, not knowing if her shrieking and biting was due to actual pain or just fear of potential pain. In the past three weeks she had been in two shelters, poked, prodded, her spay scars examined, and who knows what else. I believe the workers and vets who handled her were as kind and gentle as possible, but given her situation, Jackie was simply scared out of her wits and tired of being violated.

Getting a dog out of a shelter is only the first step. Getting the shelter out of the dog is a much more arduous process. It takes time, patience, and love. Even though I usually lack the middle virtue, when it comes to a scared animal, I have an unending supply, leaving none for anyone or anything else.

By evening, she allowed me to put the harness on her, but I couldn't adjust it without a shriek and nip. She never did actually bite me; just warn me with a snap--which actually is perfectly acceptable dog etiquette. They can't say, "Stop it!" or "Fuck off!"--so they use their teeth. And I heed the warning.

In only 24 hours, Jackie transformed from the terrified shelter dog, tail tucked beneath her body so far I didn't think I could find it, to a smiling canine tail up and wagging and ears alert. Last night we even rough-housed on the living room floor together. She finally trusted me.

This morning we drove the three hours north to meet her new mom. We spent almost an hour together, allowing Jackie to get used to her and to even learn Lie Down, which my friend began teaching her the other day. After some dismay from Jackie on having to hop into the back of the car, I got her enter another way and she and I parted ways. The adopter even gave me a gift card, which I was not expecting. I thanked her and told her it wasn't necessary. But she insisted, so I humbly accepted.

After they drove off to Jackie's new life together, I began talking to a woman truck driver who was out walking her three dogs. I asked if they were all hers. Then I told her what I was doing and about Operation Roger, the trucker organization that transports dogs for rescues across the country. She had not heard of such thing and said she would look it up.

After chatting I drove across the street to fill up my tank. When I got back from getting my change the trucker was there offering to pay for my gas.

"Oh, no, I couldn't take that," I said.

"But you drove all the way here on your own time and money," she replied.

"It's really okay, the rescue will pay the gas," I urged.

She looked a little disappointed that she couldn't help me help others. That's the strange thing about doing good--it makes others want to join you. I never want to be boastful about doing good; I simply do it cause I enjoy it.

"Look up Operation Roger and see if you can help," I said. "That's payment enough, really."

She accepted and said she would check into it. I couldn't believe that she was seriously trying to hand me forty bucks to pay for gas. Hell, I feel weird enough turning in receipts to the rescue to begin with. The only reason I will is because someone donated the money for costs. And I still feel guilty. After all, I signed up to volunteer. (course with no job in sight, I should just accept and let it lie--a lot of rescues reimburse mileage or gas).

I drove away realizing that helping animals isn't just about helping animals. I debriefed a dog from the war of the shelter and watched her blossom. I got to see a new beginning when Jackie met her new mom and am excited about what her life will hold for her. And I was pleased to be able to spread the seed of knowledge--perhaps another volunteer will join the ranks of Operation Roger. But aside from all that, it reinforces my faith in humanity. People, animals, all life, I truly believe are good. Maybe we don't always see that in each other, but when we place an animal and its welfare between us, we see it clearly. Strangers say hello and smile, people offer their own time and money to others. People want to help, be a part of the process to help to save a life. On Thursday a bunch of strangers rallied behind a dog they hardly knew and together we got her off Death's Doorstep, in fact far out of his neighborhood, and into a new life. People ask, What's the point of Life? Personally, I don't care what the answer is, if there is one, because moments like these are all I need.