It’s been a long day and a long night.  I walk in the door from intake.  James Morrison greets me, singing from the radio, “this ain’t no time to be alone, if your sky is falling just take my hand and hold it, you don’t have to be alone” (

This song has become synonymous with the Hazard shelter in the continuous filmstrip running in my mind.  It couldn’t sum up any better how I feel about our Hazard “kids”.  There is just something so delicate and fragile about them.  I experience an overwhelming desire and need to protect them.

Tonight was no different.  Each of them are special, each of them with hearts so open but spirits so battered.  I want to see their light shining brightly, as it should.  And tonight it was “momma” that got to me.  Her photograph has haunted me since the first moment I saw it.  She is in the shelter with her three young pups.  She is full of worry and fear and sorrow and it is written all over her face and body.  She has no hope.  She has seen the darkness, read the writing on her proverbial wall and she knows – this is the end of the line.  Her sky is falling, the light is fading and she’s shouldered the burden on her own far too long.  It’s all there in the song – just listen.  She can do nothing to save herself or her babies, she is defeated, she has played all her cards and she has lost.  She is desolate.  And seeing her photograph, so am I.

But I know an amazing group of people that can take that desolation and turn it into action.  It is my rescue family.  When we work hard and put our minds to it, when we open our hearts and when we have a little bit of luck, we can change the ending to a story.  We can give “momma” one more hand to play.  We can change a life.  And so tonight “momma” was wrapped tenderly in loving arms, surrounded by hearts full of compassion and heard the whisper in her ear, “we are here now darling, you don’t have to be alone”.

Our girl is here now.  She is tired, her body worn and ragged, threadbare.  She has been holding on.  Barely.  She needs us now. She is our girl now.    And she has us, she really does.  Tonight I watched my rescue family fully embrace this sad, skinny girl, in desperate need of a bath, some groceries, and medical care.  I watched as one person and then another comforted her, held her, showed her love.  I watched as she gave into the warmth and glow surrounding her and melted into one person and then another.  Her body relaxed as she let us take over and entrusted her being and her babies to us tonight.  She could finally close her eyes and believe that there just might be some way out.

Momma has a journey yet ahead of her.  She has a ways to go to fully regain her health and strength.  She is heartworm positive and will need medical treatment when she is strong enough.  But there is love and she will feel it, there is life and she will see it and this is not a time that she will have to be alone.

A deep and heartfelt thank you to my rescue family for being her rescue family.  And for all the new kids that came in tonight and were greeted with warmth and tenderness, that basked in the glow of your love and care, thank you.  It is night’s like last night that inspire and rejuvenate.

Momma and Family

Momma and Family

Posted in: Blog.
Last Modified: October 28, 2013

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