Do you ever
think about quitting? Anything?
Jennifer Vanderau
Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter
(9/2019) People quit all the time. Jobs. Relationships.
Marriages. And in some instances, it’s easy and better for
you in the long run. Move on. Try to forget about it. Take
your life down a different track. Sometimes, that’s
healthy. Sometimes for your own sanity, you just have to
stop and get away.
And a surprising number of people
say "I quit" at animal shelters. The turnover rate for
employees at SPCAs and shelters across the country is
sometimes staggering. There have been many days at the
shelter where I have thought to myself, "I can’t do this
anymore."
When I see people treat animals no
better than garbage. When people dump animals at this
shelter because they "have no time" for them. Because the
dog has grown bigger than they expected. Because they
can’t seem to train the dog not to go to the bathroom
inside the house, yet they are unwilling to try any of our
suggestions.
We live in such a disposable
society.
I get the feeling of "man, I’ve
gotta get out of here" when I walk into the kennels and
find a dog who has been bred so badly, his back legs can’t
support his body. When I see an animal so thin and
malnourished that every bone in her chest looks like it’s
going to come out through her skin. When long-haired
pure-bred cats come in to us as "strays" covered in so
many mats, we have to use an electric razor to shave them
to their skin so we can free them of the maggots living
inside the huge balls of hair and fur.
And when you realize all of these
problems are a result of human neglect, human cruelty and
human indifference, I start to think to myself that I can
no longer bear witness to it. Because I fear seeing it
every day is taking small portions of my soul, a little
bit at a time.
And I’ll think for my own sense of
well-being, "I have to get out of here."
But then, I’m taking an animal to
an offsite event and the pup has to crawl on my lap
because he’s not too sure about the whole car thing. He
searches me out for comfort.
I walk through the kennels and all
the eyes watch me, and they seem to say, "Please give me a
chance."
I go into cat adoption and find
kittens playing in one of the larger cages and it’s almost
like they’re asking me to join them, falling over each
other, joy in their gorgeous eyes. The more I watch them,
the more they act like goofballs, and I realize they’re
"hamming it up" just for me. They seem to react to my
chuckles and laughter.
A cat reaches for me through the
slats of her cage as I walk past. Looking to me for a
moment of contact, warmth, touch. And I give it to her.
Willingly. Happily. I listen to her purr as I stroke her
face and it lowers my blood pressure, calms me.
And I come to a realization. Why I
can’t leave. Why I can’t stop. Because it’s not about me.
It’s about them. These forgotten souls who did nothing
wrong, but were discarded anyway. The only creatures on
the planet to end up in a jail, of sorts, without
committing any real crime.
It’s about the brown-eyed pup and
the blue-eyed kitten searching, even after all they’ve
been through, for the love that has been denied them.
And if some days I cry on the ride
home for the sheer terror and agony so many of them have
known, so be it. If I have nightmares about losing one of
my own furry friends because of the stories I hear during
the day, and the fear wakes me up in the middle of the
night, I’ll deal with it. And if working here changes me
irrevocably from now to the day I leave this world, maybe
that’s OK.
Maybe I’m supposed to wrestle with
this. Maybe I’m supposed to take a long, hard look at the
bad stuff in the world because it makes me appreciate the
good that much more. Maybe I’m supposed to plant myself
like a tree, stand strong in the face of it and work
through it.
Because maybe, just maybe, this
cause is worth it.
I think of it as a battle. We’re
waging a war here. We’re fighting apathy, insensitivity,
and basic carelessness. Shelter staff and employees across
the nation are the front lines and our supporters and
adopters, the ones who give so generously of their time,
money and homes, are our second defense. It’s going to be
and is tough. And it will bring about the feelings of
"this is too much" and "I want to quit."
When it feels too hard and you’re
ready to walk away because you’ve heard another story
about another animal cruelty or another case of
abandonment, and you think there’s no hope for ending it,
look to the friend at your feet or in your lap. And
remember who it’s all about.
They have no voice.
So let’s give them ours.
*****
Jennifer Vanderau is the Director of Communications for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter in Chambersburg, Pa., and can be reached at cvasoc@innernet.net. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, call the shelter at (717) 263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org.
Read other articles by Jennifer Vanderau