Why do individuals rescue? And
why do rescues exist in the first place?
People ask me all the time, why I am a rescuer.
People ask me all the time, why I am a rescuer.
Isn’t it hard emotionally? Isn’t
it depressing knowing that you can’t help them all?
Yes, and yes, but there are so
many wonderful and rewarding aspects as well…
I began as a “rescuer” when I was
very young. I was the kid that had animals “follow them home”. The kid that
noticed a dog or cat that seemed to be lost and in need of a little help until
their person could found. I once brought home 2 gerbils in my lunch box because
my teacher said that someone needed to take our two classroom pets. Of course,
my parents hadn’t actually given their permission (to be honest, my mom was
super afraid of anything vaguely rodent like) and as soon as I got home and
opened the lunch box, they jumped out, and ran up inside the back of the sofa.
It was a long time before I was forgiven for that one! I rescued butterflies, hand
fed baby birds, picked up worms from the sidewalk and replaced them in the
grass – generally helped creatures wherever I felt I could.
As an adult, I worked as a
volunteer for several different organizations – helping with wildlife rehab,
walking dogs, patting cats – and then I found Animal Alliance of Canada. At the
time, Animal Alliance was a newly formed organization that intended to work on
many facets of animals and the environment, and was in need of all types of volunteer
help. What was most appealing to me however, was the Project Jessie program.
Project Jessie was formed because
of need in the community. There is a law in Ontario called The Animals For Research Act, which says that pounds and shelters
that pick up stray animals, must hold those animals for 72 hours, and after that,
if the shelter receives a request from a registered research facility, they can
turn them over. Project Jessie was formed to offer an alternative. We
approached pounds that were sending to research, and offered them another
option – we would take the animals, spay/neuter, vaccinate and microchip them,
then hold them in foster homes and eventually adopt them into new families.
I started as a volunteer driver –
picking up animals (mostly dogs and cats) and driving them to vet appointments,
or to foster homes. Then one day they needed a foster home for orphan kittens -
so I did that. Then a foster for a senior dog - so I did that. Then a foster or
adopter for a large number of birds that had been removed from a hoarding situation
– so I did that.
About 17 years ago, the Project
Jessie coordinator was leaving the organization, so I became the new
coordinator. Over those years, I have welcomed hundreds of animals into my
home; senior animals, young animals, cats, dogs, birds, bunnies, guinea pigs,
hamsters and hedgehogs – and helped them find their new families.
Most of the time, these guys stay
for a little while until they find the perfect new place, then they travel on
their way to new lives – and I am just a small part of their life journey.
But sometimes, they come and
stay. I have a real soft spot for the seniors. With young animals, if I am good
at the “matchmaking” part, they are adopted into good families and will have
good lives.
But the seniors are different.
They are less adoptable by most people’s standards. They often have medical or
emotional challenges. Sometime they aren’t pretty. They are often scared and
confused – they have lost the people who loved them, often through no fault of
their own, or they have had a poor life and deserve to know love before they
go.
The first foster who stayed was
Pixie. I received a call from a pound that went something like this, “We have a
4 pound dog that is super vicious, is flying to attack people and needs to go
into rescue the minute her stray time is up or we will euthanize her.” I needed
to meet this tiny fury! When I arrived at the pound, I found a tiny, scared
little dog, facing into the corner of her run, shaking, and feebly looking over
her shoulder and growling at me. I sat in the run with her for a few minutes.
Then I reached over and stroked her back. She growled. I sat, waited, talked to
her, stroked her, she growled, and so on. After an hour or so, I lifted her up,
tucked her into my sweater and took her home. Pixie was a bit of a mess – too thin,
with pyometria, missing most of her teeth, contrary and opinionated, but I
loved her to bits. When no one stepped up who wanted to adopt her, I officially
adopted her and she lived with me for about 6 years until she eventually
passed.
Over the years, several others
came and stayed for long or for short times. Boodle was a bichon mix who was
dumped on the side of the road outside of a puppy mill – probably because she
was too old and sick to breed anymore. She had leukemia – and the worst blood
results that the vet had ever seen. I asked whether she was in pain, and the
vet said that no – leukemia wasn’t painful, but a slow fading and that she didn’t
think this dog would have long. I took her home intending to make her last few
days as loving and comfortable as possible – she stayed with me for almost 4
years.
One day I was at a pound picking
up a dog. I went into the office trailer to fill out paperwork – and the staff
were gathered around a dirty A&W box. They were trying to decide whether
the little scrap of a kitten would die on its own soon or if they would have to
take it to the vet for “disposal”. I looked into the box and saw a sad little kitten.
About 3 weeks old, he had fleas and lice, was suffering from coccidian and
worms, had a broken tail and splayed legs, and was near death by starvation. What
impressed me the most though, was his will to live. As soon as I touched him he
had the most amazing, loud, full bodied purr. I immediately put him in my car
and took him straight to the vet. She wasn’t sure he would live – but he did –
and Rootbeer as we named him, is still
part of our family now 12 years later.
Over the years there have been so
many wonderful animals! Teddy the one-eyed wonder pomeranian who would climb along
the back of the sofa but had no depth perception because of being
one-eyed. Pearl, a senior rosy bourke (a
small bird like a slightly larger budgie), who had cataracts, and a small
tumour, but who lived with me for 12 years. Bibble the hedgehog who was abandoned
outdoors, and had cancer in the muscle of her leg. Lily, the Pekingese who lost
both eyes to glaucoma. Bijoux, the tiny cat with megaesophagus. Anna Maria the
budgie who lost her legs to frostbite.
So many lovely animals and so
many stories that I have been privileged to be part of. Although I sometimes
lovingly refer to my home as the “House of Misfits” (and incidentally I include
myself in that description!) and caring for seniors and special needs creatures
has its own messy and emotional challenges - I honesty wouldn’t have it any
other way.
Shelly Hawley-Yan
ProjectJessie.ca
shelly@animalalliance.ca