Some things don't belong on Facebook. Facebook is a happy place full of success and silly stories. So where does one vent when shit becomes to real, shameful and too painful to talk about in nice places? A blog no one reads, that's where. I've spent two years in the animal rescue game, volunteering, fostering and adopting the forgotten breeds people put away in prison shelters. It's emotionally rewarding and gave me a sense of being part of the community "making the world a little better place".
Somehow I lost sight of the reality of animals and how they behave. My dogs, in my eyes became these short humans with fur and wagging tails of gratitude for be saved. Fur balls who kept my feet warm and seem to love me unconditionally.
Sunday night our two Pitbulls killed our family cat Lily, Stephanie's cat Lily. A furry baby who had been in our family for 12 years. We came home from dinner and we knew immediately something was wrong. Horrific and brutal and real she laid on the floor dying in front of us. Covered in dog saliva and blood. The dogs, they looked at me like a cat looks at their owner when they proudly place a mouse on a doorstep. I can't fix this. Can't take Stephanie's pain. We were naive believing they could live together peacefully. Blood in almost every room. She fought, she tried to get away. I can't bring her back. I'm so sorry Lily.
Maybe if they had grown up together as puppies and kitten. Maybe if we'd separated them better. Maybe there is a way to train that instinct out of dogs. Honestly, "maybe" doesn't mean shit when you have to give a hysterical 18 year old xanax so she can sleep after her cat dies in her arms speeding to an all night animal ER.
I never wanted to tell anyone, just wait until the pain faded away and the shame rolled off. But then I started thinking maybe (stupid maybe word) if someone read this they might be smarter than we were and learn from this story. Too late for Lily
Melie
If you believe you can or you believe you can't, either way you are right. Henry Ford
