say “Hello” and show comfort at the time of need, as the doors of
Diamond Cut Loyalty Rescue open to save another when they are cornered
to the wall of a shelter, with no thought left of where to go or what
tomorrow will hold for them. They fall with illness, beaten and scared;
fought and left to strive on their own; shot and killed by police to lay
dead on the street. How does that make you a man? Fought by dogfighters
and slain if there is a loss. How are they called humans?
bow my head in remembrance of JACK, a mixed breed young man who left
this rescue to Rainbow Bridge. When all failed Jack, and no one else
stood by his side, a man walked to him and reached out his hand. Signed
on the dotted line and walked out of the shelter, just hours before his
life would end. The man put Jack in the car and left the old world
behind. On the road to a rescue where his head was held, with prayer
from the voice of the man who cared for him at the hour
of need and cried the tears of thousands who suffer alone. Then on a
trip to a new foster home, for someone to care all hours of the day and
into the night. To a small little family of many cats who welcomed Jack,
and 5 other canine companions who showed no discomfort to a boy in need
of friendship and love.
Jack had many friends in the few
months since April 29th, when he was saved from death in a shelter. My
heart is heavy because Jack, 11 years old, left to the entrance of the
Bridge because of an illness he fought so hard, but could not overcome.
He will return and this time, he will be carried to the doors of this
rescue, Diamond Cut Loyalty, where his ashes shall be placed in the view
of the final “second chance.”
Thank you to the one person who
cared for Jack with gentle hands, great love and with no concern for
personal sacrifice at all hours of the night and the day. Thank you to
the one person who was with him as he closed his eyes and who spoke
softly to him, telling him that he was “going home.”
to you, boy. On the day that I leave this world and stand before the
Almighty, may the ashes return to dust of the earth, and I will hold you
in my arms as Judgement is before me. I shall cry no more. Rest In Paradise, Jack. July 10, 2013.
It’s not because of love. It’s
something entirely different. It’s seeing someone as a vessel, a container to
be filled with one’s own hopes and fantasies. Chase the vessel and you chase a
mirage. Cross that desert and drink from an empty golden cup.
When I first moved here, I thought I wouldn't stay.
That's not because I didn't love it. I adored it. I adored it and then I
hated it and then I adored it some more. I left it once, I left it
again. I left for weeks and months at a time, but I couldn't bring
myself to entirely turn in my key.
Since 1997, I have racked up
five different addresses, four phone numbers, but no calling birds or
turtle doves. And the entire time I have said to myself, I will leave
someday. Because there are other places I want to explore.
That is still true. And so I am torn. I still want to live in New York,
London, Sydney if Adam would deign to visit Australia. Yet I've built
this life here. As I get older, my definitions of freedom and boundary
begin to flip-flop. I don't know if I feel free or not for having built
I'm a writer and storyteller in Berkeley, CA. If you're wondering where that is, follow the smell of patchouli and skunkweed. There you'll find me with my kickass husband, gorgeous little boy, and manic Lab-Australian Shepherd mix pups. I'm represented by Miriam Altshuler of DeFiore & Co., but of course, my views are my own.