A promise in a rainbow

Last night as we left the animal shelter, the doctor warned me that tomorrow there would be 3 less dogs.  I know that the shelter has been in financial strain as well as overflowing with animals with more and more coming in.  We've helped make space as the dogs multiply, as people bring in more boxes of abandoned puppies, but usually we find other shelters that will at least take our puppies.  At this point as we are busting at the seams, I understand that the doctor has to make these tough decisions.

When I asked who the 3 dogs that she would put down, I knew that there weren't any dogs that I would  feel content with losing.  However, knowing who's fate was death, was a burden I found difficult to bear.

 Bolt came to the shelter as a puppy.  He came soon after we began fostering Ruby, and we were certain that he was her puppy.  He's a spunky little guy, but sweet.  He's been at the shelter at least since April, with no interest in his adoption.  Because he has been there so long, he was on the chopping block.

Mr. T (aka Jack), is a wiry, blue heeler mix.  He snagged our hearts as soon as we met him. He's a little on the energetic side, but sweet.  I know that both of these dogs would easily find someone who would love them anywhere off the Rez, but here in Kayenta, their chances were not good.

The third dog, is one that came in late last week.  We also see the similarities between he and Ruby, which made us instantly fall for him.  Each time I think that the cruelty or stupidity of humans cannot shock me, I find I am wrong. Two women brought this guy in.  He was hiding in the bed of the truck, understandably terrified of them.  When George came out to get him, we discovered why.  Here on the reservation, sheep are castrated with the use of rubber bands.  Rather than surgically sterilizing the male, they tie rubber bands around the testicles, and eventually they fall off and apparently heal on their own.  Well, someone figured that would be the best way to prevent this little guy from reproducing, and by the time he arrived at the shelter, it was beyond cutting the rubber band to alleviate the pain, and yet they were still dangling from his body, bloody and undoubtedly sore.  Despite his painful status, he did not snap or growl, he submissively went into his crate where he has waited.

After hearing the news of the fate of these dogs the kids and I were sad.  We've discovered at different intervals of our time here, that dogs we loved had been put down because of different negative behaviors or for the sake of space-difficult decisions that I understand must be made under the circumstances.  But knowing ahead of time, gave me the sense that I had a responsibility to do something.  These young, sweet dogs would be a waste if put down now.

As soon as we arrived home, I began advertising these sweet dogs in any avenue I could think of and struggled under the burden of knowing their fate and wondering if I should bring them to our house until I could find a permanent home for them.  Soon after I had finished my task and there was nothing to do but wait, Isaak announced that there was a giant rainbow that could be seen from our front door.  I went out to see the magical arch and as I admired it's beauty, I was reminded of the story of Noah's Ark, and how after the destruction of the earth, God sent a rainbow as a symbol of his promise to restore the earth and not to destroy it again. It may seem cheesy, but at that moment I felt like it was a message to me, that things would be taken care of.

Soon after the appearance of a rainbow, I received an email from a woman who was very interested in meeting and adopting Bolt.  She told me the story of her dog she had recently lost to cancer, and how she was ready to bring a new dog into her life.  A couple hours later, I received a second email, this time someone was interested in Mr. T.  The kids and I were so relieved and yet the fate of the half castrated dog still weighed on my heart.

This morning, I drove to the shelter to speak with the doctor about the homes I had found, praying that the dogs had not already been put down and trying to settle within myself that if the black dog was put down that at least he would be out of misery.  When I announced that I had found homes, the doctor was shocked and when I pleaded for the life of the black dog, she immediately said she would save him. I was ecstatic and a bit overwhelmed at the small miracle that had occurred over the 16 hours.

I know it may seem silly to be so involved emotionally over the fate of dogs, when there are children battling cancer, children who are subject to domestic abuse, sexual abuse and hunger here on the rez. But as I have wrestled with these issues, I have come to realize that at this point in my life, I am not in a position to intervene for these children.  I do not see these abuses, our house is too small to bring in another child (and the navajo nation does not allow non-natives to adopt Navajo children) and I am not involved in an agency that deals with atrocities.  I am however, raising my children to feel compassion for those who are vulnerable and to do what we can to fight against injustices-even if it is a life of a dog.  Perhaps someday I will be able to do more for the children through foster care or maybe even social work, but as I see it, Adam and Eve's job was to take care of the earth and the animals in it and at this time in our life, we are doing our small part to make Kayenta a better place.