The Insulation of Greed.

I routinely post the same content on multiple social media outlets.

For the last 15 years here's what I have noticed.

The more we become insulated as a society, community, country, (the list goes on), the harder it is to relate to others who are not in our position. I also believe that some of us choose to take from those who have less as we (believe) we all have to fight for the same pieces of wealth.

Why does such a divide exist when there is so much wealth around us? Why would we choose to take more, deny more as we continue to try to insulate ourselves from some unknown fear? We are not living in poverty. We have a home, clothes, possessions, people who love us and yet we spend so much time and effort trying to deny others the same? It is so difficult for me to understand.

I recently chose not to put up a flagpole because I am not going to be told to fly the flag for a domestic terrorist who made friends with the like, and not lower it for those who actually do deserve a military honor. I would have lowered it for Jane Goodall. A universal symbol of unity, peace, and kindness. My husband and I have both worn a uniform and sworn an oath to the constitution. We have more right to posting that big flying flag in black and white with "We the People" etched on it than all of the white men in trucks who paid to have it put there and never once took a second to contemplate protecting justice, tranquility, general welfare, but merely to defend their bunker of assault weapons that has only made school children more afraid, and likely to die from mass casualty shootings. I could go on, and on. 

Jarrettsville Vet has created this sanctuary for its people. We are a wide brush safety net for our patients and clients. When I post about the despair present in vetmed. The collateral consequences is insulation that despair happens to others. Routinely people show up at a veterinary medicine facility and cannot afford much, if any, of the treatment plans offered. 

When I do put up a post about economic euthanasia in vetmed on our JVC facebook page it gets no views. It feels like it is not relevant. It makes me wonder if I am insulating and fueling the indifference?

"Hope is about action." Jane Goodall. 

Hope is not wishful thinking. It is observing a problem, rolling up your sleeves and working hard to achieve the thing you are hoping for. I am hoping for compassion, kindness and sharing all so that we all can thrive.

To all of those I work with on a day-to-day basis in rescue you understand. Encouraging people to go to the shelter, save a life without a breeders lineage tree, (and price tag which for reasons I find mind-boggling insinuates that they are "more desirable," "less likely to have X-Y-Z problem" (which is total idiocy) is arduous and exhausting. The fact that people think they are getting a better guarantee of anything (insert hypoallergenic, no behavior issues, special, etc. with a higher price tag is ludicrous. Rescue people, vet people, know this. The idea that shelters/rescues house animals with hidden defects is also fundamental biased, prejudiced, and wrong. I had a recent equally ridiculous discussion with a person upset that they couldn't take one of the kittens we were helping "for free" and would instead have to adopt them through a local rescue for $150. I tried to remind them that $150 adoption fee is a $350 savings from the price tag of care through JVC for three cat visits, vaccines, spay/neuter, deworming. They could only see "free" which leaves me to question whether that kitten was ever going to get any care after possession. Live a day in the trenches of rescue, factory farming, puppy mills, deforestation, genocide, and let me know how safe you feel.

Here is the post I put on JVC Fb that got no traction. On a rescue page, professional outlet it received both comments, shares, and scrutiny because it is relevant and relatable.

The Recommendation

Many decades ago I was in your shoes.

I see in you exactly the same character flaws. An unwavering blind ambition so strong it can best be described as a rip current. The kind of underwater force that you don't see coming and have to give yourself into it to in fact save yourself from it. A force of nature. An untenable belief that is so powerful you bend to it so as to hopefully not be broken by it. This is what magic, miracles, and civilizations arise from. This is what medicine needs as its nidus to become its next iteration. This is what heals, compels and inspires those that follow us.

In my shoes, so many years ago as I set forth to build my own career, I called it blind ambition. It was my most valuable asset. I grafted it to my compassion and I let it take wing. To this day I am still this girl. A creator of possibilities among a sea of sharks who will never dream of being anything else. They can do them, I am sticking with me. She will carry me on journeys to far away places. She will keep me grounded when the civil war around me beckons me to dump my kindness and throw stones along with the masses. She will be the girl saving the wrens, the bees, and the poppies in the fields. She will never be alone, and she will never seek harm for personal gain. There is comfort in the little beings who need me. Whatever you want other people to know about you is reflected in your belief in yourself and how you live your life.

It is impossible for me, or anyone else, to define, defend, or promote you in any capacity that should ever matter. Life is just that way. A long road of bumps, pit stops, sunbeams breaking from clouds, and trees to find that place that you belong simply by the terms you define it to be. Never consider another opinion, or definition to where your place belongs. Never ask for a letter to remind you who you are not, nor care if they provide it. You are all you ever need to be. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and do good. The world will welcome you and you will find your place.

P.S. IF I can find my original letter to the vet school I will post it. I am sure I have not strayed from its gravitas, but, I hope it remains buried. I don't need to look back to remember where (or who) I want to be.

Skipping on repeat.

 It’s 1:51 pm Friday. I am getting into bed. Wearing the attempt I had at 10 am to go for a run and have a day that might include more than one item from the to do list. 

I’m going to disappoint myself yet again. 

It’s time for bed. Time to give in and admit defeat. 

I lose Friday. It is taken. Collateral damage to the price of Sunday through Thursday. The day that the lord needed to rest. The human equivalent of Monday morning disease the work horses of the early 1900s faced. When men went to work in the factories from Mon through Friday and arrived home to plow a field sat and Sunday. The consequences were horses that tied up by Monday. You have to pace yourself to avoid the painful reality that you are not the athlete you once were. 

The current anguish of my body is this. Everything is worn out. The stuffing is misplaced. The blood isn’t carrying oxygen to the eyelids. They hang like old velvet drapes of a widows cave. Too cumbersome to open. Too frail to collect the edges and fasten in place. They have given up hiding the frosted lens that only seees shadows and ombré. 

The week is a blur of still images slowed to a pause. The names, diseases and dilemmas have all bled together. I ask myself the same questions. I don’t know if I can answer truthfully to most of them hem any longer. 

Yes I did my best. 

No I didn’t abandon anyone other than myself. 

Yes I might be burnt. 

No I don’t want your advice. Maybe this isn’t the bottom. 

Yet. 

And still the world goes on around me. Inspite. Or despite. I have no intentions that I can write down and hold fast too. Just the music of a dance I taught myself long ago. I make the same motions on the same stage. Day after day. Expecting something to be different and never changing any pieces. The definition of insanity fueled by longing within the chaos. A poet or the muse? Does anyone know? Is there any point in asking? 

I’ll get dressed again tomorrow. Tie the slippers. Don the robe and smile once more in the sunshine that skips on repeat. 

Frippie

The reviews are in

There is a freedom to growing up. The kind that allows you to just stop caring about others and their opinions. Somewhere along the tripping path of life you realize that no one really is as invested in you as your worry permits. Your hair, face, body, intellect, all of the juvenile judgements that you might cast upon others just don't have to stick back on to you. 

Raffles and Birdie say hello

Veterinarians are a precarious bunch of perfectionists. We spend our whole lives making the voiceless matter. We spend countless days and nights bemoaning their fragile existence. We have only ourselves to blame, to hate, to lean upon. It is a pedestal of flower petals ready to take light in the breeze at any given moment. We exist in this place of pure emotionally driven action items. We seek comfort in a life that cannot make any decisions for themselves. We have power so crushing it dictates a suicide rate that is alarming in its own peaceful existence. There is no greater accolade than a pet parent who is made to feel good, whole, expunged and exalted in executing their power to provide a peaceful passing. Never has anyone been so grateful as when we provide a goodbye from all that we have been built and trained to avoid. Imagine that? Being beloved most at the time of your talents failings? How does one not seek warmth in indifference with these?

I have been conditioned to abandon accolades as equally as I have been castigated for advocating for the patients their parents no longer see worth within. It is a tango of twisted maneuvers you never master. While so many veterinarians now seek the avenue of at home euthanasia as a safe place to meet the professions challenges, I wish on many a day that it was not an option without a committee. That if the standard of care is to mirror and break the monopoly of advancements open to the two legged, non-furred beings then why not our own furred families? Where is the line for compassion and responsibility? These days it seems to lie firmly in the haves taking from the have-nots. Where is the morality in this?

With the open market of society comes the feedback. The reviews that the big guys can buy, bury, or expunge. The divorce of annulments that leaves whispers among parishioners as to whom was responsible?

Why does it even matter anymore? For every 1 star there are 10 other 5's. .. and yet Mr Google will send me an alert each time our name is brought up and the vote is sent. Each time I go there, in an attempt to clear an inbox, and face a judgement of some encounter with so many intangible variables it makes you pause to consider your intentions. 

If our work, our lives, our purpose and our value is representative of those rankings I take great soalce in knowing I was never going to be a 5, or an A+, or a perfect 10. What would the point be in any of them? Who wants to leave a life behind never knowing the heartbreak of a lost love? Who needs a crown when you can have a callous from tying too many sutures to save that splenectomy? Where is the bed of exhaustion if you don't sign up for that 150 pound gelatinous uterus slipping through your fingers like slime? Who among us came here for the yellow brick road and not the forest of the path less traveled?

Contentment

To all of you who know who we are, and love us in the midst of our worst days, I say a big Thank you! To the rest I hope that you fall flat on your face and just ask yourself how lucky you are to be there? We all spend time there so why not be prepared for the upside as the down makes her debut.

Here are some of the reviews I saw today;

"These folks are incredible. They saved my cats life today when I thought all hope was lost. I was an absolute mess in their office and they showed me compassion, empathy, patience and professionalism. I could not afford emergency services on a Saturday to save my cats life from a severe urinary blockage, but they squeezed me in anyway just to look him over. After believing my only option was euthanasia, and being there right when their office closed on a Saturday, they managed to pull together resources to help and the entire staff stayed late on a weekend to help my baby survive. I'm so grateful. What's even more amazing, this is not the first time they have showed me amazing compassion. During Covid, my elderly female cat died. Being the only office in the area open during lockdown, they squeezed me in then too, despite that cat not being a patient of theirs. She passed in the car on the way there, but when I arrived they took her body, checked her over, and placed her lovingly in a special box for me to bury. They didn't charge me a dime for that care. I can't say enough good things about them. I'll never take my babies anywhere else."

The reviews that matter are here

There are some 1 stars there too. 

They, most of them, came from the time I refused to euthanize a puppy. Or called Animal Control for a possible neglect case. Or, spoke out about a pup who waited days dying at home when help had been offered days before. When a client stormed the clinic, got a peace order against them and then had their whole family slam us online. There is no way to stand up for something and not have to face the crowd who doesn't like what you have to say. 

I call it integrity. But, the reality is that there are a lot of people who just get angry and become keyboard warriors behind a fake name or account. They can have their two seconds of feeling powerful and being a bully. But we all know that your dog knows who you really are. It's only that opinion that keeps me up at night.