Please don't cut Animal Control's budget!

“It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.” – Eleanor Roosevelt 

 

It’s budget time for Barrow County, which means how much money each department gets for the next fiscal year is currently being discussed. In the initial budget proposal, the department that is near and dear to my heart – Animal Control – is slated for an 8 percent cut. There’s no way that’s going to be anything but a problem – for the staff, the animals and the community.

 

Each year, since 2008 when the economy tanked, the Animal Control budget has been cut, while each year calls for service remain the same or increase. This means for years now, the staff and officers at Animal Control have been doing more with less and that has taken its toll. Right now things are better at Animal Control than they have been for years. Staff morale is good; interim director Jimmy Terrell is doing a great job; and, the volunteer group that formed last July has become a valuable, committed source of manpower and resources for the animal shelter.

 

I’m not a numbers person, so I can’t speak to the budget issues. But, as an animal lover and one of the weekly volunteers at the Animal Control shelter, I can share some of the good things happening at Animal Control in the interest of “pleading the case” for no budget cut.

 

For years the Barrow shelter kill rate has been nearly 50 percent for dogs and over 80 percent for cats. Currently those numbers have dropped to under 20 percent. Why? Teamwork, between the staff at Animal Control, the volunteer group and Leftover Pets, the local non-profit, low cost spay/neuter clinic.

 

Leftover Pets rescues, “”fixes” and adopts out about 10 cats or kittens each month from the shelter. So far this year, they’ve also taken in, “fixed” and rescued another 60 cats and kittens surrendered by local residents. Most of those cats would’ve probably ended up at the animal shelter.

 

An arrangement made with Leftover Pets for shelter animals that are already spay/neutered to have shots at no cost to the county and be adopted from Leftover Pets at no charge has saved many shelter animals, as well.  

 

Some of the volunteers have solid, long-time ties with area and even nation-wide animal rescue organizations, which means the number of animals who get rescued from the shelter has gone up dramatically. One particularly heartwarming example is a Pit Bull who gave birth to nine puppies right after she was surrendered to Animal Control. That lucky mama and all nine of her pups were rescued by a group in Maine that arranged for their transport and had homes waiting for them before they even arrived.

 

Then, there’s the volunteer hours – an average of about 275 labor hours donated to the county each month – by animal lovers like me who do things like scoop poop and mop pens if that’s what it takes to help the animals be comfortable and assist the busy Animal Control staff.

 

My shelter day is Friday; I usually spend most of the afternoon there. First I wash the dog and cat bowls from the day before, then I start a load of wash – blankets and towels we put in some pens to comfort the smaller, older or more worried dogs. After folding and putting up whatever’s in the dryer, I get to see the animals. First I give them all a treat, then I clean up their pens and make sure their water pails are full. Then everyone gets another treat or two and I distribute blankets and towels. Finally, I take a dog or two outside for a romp and maybe play with a cat. When I leave I’m usually in tears – so sad and poignant are so many of their stories, and so soulful, so many of their eyes.

 

The bleach and paper towels we use for the dishes, laundry and pen clean-up are donated. The blankets and towels we distribute and wash are donated, as is the laundry soap. The collars, leashes, treats, chews and cat toys we use are donated. If an animal is badly infested with fleas we use donated medications to help with that. Our bathing supplies are also all donated.

 

As you can see, Animal Control is running an awfully tight ship with many of the basic needs of the animals, right down to food and cat litter, being donated from within the community. If there’s budget fat that needs to be trimmed, it’s hard to see.

 

Many of the other volunteers spend more time at the shelter than me. And, the reason we do it is for the animals and because there is a need. It’s sad to think that any animal in the shelter could end up being euthanized. There is warmth in watching them curl up thankfully on a blanket on that cold, hard floor or wag their tail enthusiastically after gently taking a treat through the kennel bars. No matter what happens, at least they had that. And knowing that the ones who got to go outside or be played with inside, have something sweet to dream about…well, that’s why we gladly donate all of those hours.     

 

Barrow County Roads & Bridges doesn’t have to make a public plea for donated asphalt, nor do other county departments ask for donations of paper, pens or ink cartridges in order to do their work. Animal Control already depends on ongoing community support to do what’s right for the animals, and to do what’s right for the community which is to continue to stretch their ever tighter budget ever further each year. They don’t deserve to lose that 8 percent.

 

(Visit Saving Barrow County Animal Control Pets and Leftover Pets on Facebook, and go to www.barrowpets.org  and www.LeftoverPets.org)

 

Happy Anniversary!

“More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worst.”  - Doug Larson

Mr. Clark and I just celebrated our 35^th wedding anniversary which sounds like a very long time to some and like we’re just starting out to others. I will admit, saying I’ve been married for 35 years sounds strange to me. I don’t feel “that old” and there’s no way it’s been that long since we two Hippie kids made a few promises we felt we could keep and celebrated over a slice of carrot cake.   

We began our journey on August 19, 1979. It was a glorious day for the casual outdoor wedding we planned – friends and family, nothing big, held at a little house we rented in the mountains outside Boulder, Colorado. It looked like a clip from a Woodstock film  – men sporting pony tails or big bushy Afro’s, wide ties and even wider lapels; women in flowing gowns with tight perms or colorful flowers in their hair.  
       
We lived by a pond, so the ceremony was on a dock my dad built especially for the occasion. We were married by the same judge who married my dad and brother to the wives they remain with today, so there was apparently some luck or blessing in having him officiate.
   
Mr. Clark rented a white tux with tails and I wore a sexy little off-white number I’d found in a thrift store for $35. Our entire wedding budget was $300, a gift from my dad, so we had to be both frugal and creative.

A friend who sold flowers at outdoor concerts said she’d arrange our flowers, if we’d buy them. A couple of friends who worked in restaurants said they’d make the food, if we’d provide the ingredients. Another friend offered to take pictures for the price of the film. And, one more made that marvelous carrot cake.   

The ceremony was short – no “‘til death do us part” – just a few nice quotes and enough sweet sentiment to see us through the next few years, because that was as far as we could see. Mr. Clark’s parents were divorced and so were mine; my brother was in his second marriage; and, our friends all said they’d never marry, since love didn’t need a license to be true.   

We didn’t have a registry and we didn’t get many lasting gifts because, frankly, no one expected us to last. Instead, we had a honeymoon fund and our guests gave generously, so we spent our first married week in Cancun, Mexico back when it was a sleepy fishing village. Our days at the beach and nights in “hamacas matrimoniales” – two hammocks hanging side by side in an open beach hut - were a wonderful way to start the next phase of our adventure together.       

Fast forward a few years and our kids arrived – bam, bam, two of them, 17 months apart…And on to those wonderful, tiring, every-hour-is-filled child-raising years. Before we knew it, we were celebrating our 10^th anniversary. Twenty years together found us in Georgia with kids graduating from high school. By our 26^th  anniversary both kids were out of college and our daughter was married. Next came our son’s wedding, followed by some very quiet time in our marriage. What to focus on now that our obvious job together was done?

When Mr. Clark’s job fell prey to the recession in 2008, times got tough. He was out of work for nearly two years and that was a very difficult time for us. It was all well and good when we had kids to focus on and enough money to make ends meet, but during those dark times of unemployment, Mr. Clark and I rattled around the house we could no longer afford, trying to stay sane, not give up hope and not panic. It became very clear we hadn’t promised “for better or for worse,” and those “for worse” times almost got the best of us. 

Now that Mr. Clark’s been back in the work force for quite a while and we’ve gotten used to being “empty nesters” the “for better” times are back again. In fact, we’re having some of the best times we’ve had together in a long time. It’s fun and engaging to talk about “scaling back” and what comes next and how we want to shape our next 35 years together. 

That’s the thing about marriage – even after 35 years, it can still surprise you. If you’d asked me on that dock that day if I’d still be standing next to Mr. Clark 35 years later, I probably would’ve said it doesn’t matter – so lovely was the “now” we were living in.

Our marriage has turned out to be a better journey and a longer adventure than I expected. It’s been a deeper, richer, more challenging experience than I could ever have imagined. We’ve shared times of closeness and of great distance. And, all along the way we’ve been well-blessed and enjoyed more than a few bits of good luck.       

    
Our daughter gave us a framed picture of a heart with the words, “Mom and Dad, tied together by stuff too difficult to explain to someone new,” calligraphed on it. What a lovely gift and so true!

Anniversaries are one of those times when you ask yourself, “Would I do this all over again?”  My answer is, “Yes.” Let’s renew those not-so-binding vows, eat another slice of carrot cake, and see what comes next. After all, in another 35 years, I’ll only be 91…

           

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Memories of that Empty Nest and Full Heart...

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.” – Havelock Ellis

Two close friends of mine moved kids into college dorm rooms this week and knowing their poignant pride and inevitable sense of loss opened a flood gate of memories from the day Mr. Clark and I moved our son, Dylan, into his dorm room at Mercer University. That was 14 years ago and I haven’t thought of that sweat, tear and emotion-filled day for a long time, but it all came back so vividly…What a long and indeed, poignant day!

Dylan was assigned to a third floor room in the oldest dorm on campus – a beautiful, architecturally-rich structure without air conditioning. Mercer is in Macon, which means it was hot as Hades on that mid-August move-in day. The stairs were narrow and steep and there wasn’t a hint of breeze blowing through any of the windows which were all open wide.  

His new roommate, Ryan, was moving in at the same time and after a few trips up and down those stairs, it became clear both young men were outfitted with the exact same gear – right down to the big, round, nearly industrial-sized fan still bearing a Sam’s Club price tag.

It turned out Ryan’s mom read the same book I did about how to outfit your kid for college and (at least attempt to) let go emotionally. Empty Nest…Full Heart: The Journey from Home to College is by Andrea Van Steenhouse who is a psychologist and mother. My dad heard about the book on her radio talk show and knowing how hard letting go is for me, he sent me a copy. I don’t know how Ryan’s mom found the book, but it was obvious we had both read it carefully, made notes and taken it to heart.  

The big fans were just the ice-breaker we all needed. The boys got a good laugh out of each mom’s super-sized interpretation of “fan,” as listed in the “if heat  is a consideration” part of the “gear” chapter. 

“My mom’s a real over-reactor,” Dylan told Ryan, who replied, “Mine is, too, in a major way.”

Both of us moms felt better, knowing that our sons were rooming with another son who knew that help - as well as too many phone calls, excessive supplies and a mother’s sixth sense - were only about a hundred miles away. We agreed that if either boy needed anything, we’d both be there and that softened the blow of the impending “Good Bye,” at least a little bit.

We offered to stay for pizza and the boys graciously declined, opting to have their first pizza together without their sniffling moms in the room…Then it was time to say that, “Good Bye.” With tears welling up in our eyes, both of us moms tried to be brave and strong, and we both failed miserably, ending up sobbing in our sons’ arms, wishing we could turn back time and make them little again. I haven’t had that hard of a time driving away since I dropped my then-really-little boy off for the first day of kindergarten. There were a lot of tears then, too…   

Much later we heard that after pizza, Ryan and Dylan popped all of the microwave popcorn both moms had packed – enough for the whole semester - in their twin microwave ovens, then made a fabulous game of blowing the popcorn back and forth, up and down the long, wide, hot dorm hallway with their matching Sam’s Club fans. That activity engaged the interest of the entire third floor of freshly dropped- off Mercer men and in the process friendships began that evening that remain intact today.  

Dylan, Ryan and several of their third floor dorm buddies spend their second year at Mercer in Wales, opting to use the “recommended items to pack” list issued by the Mercer Study Abroad Team, rather than what their mothers wanted them to take. The boys finished their college days at U.G.A. in separate, yet equally over-equipped apartments, outfitted by their still over-attentive mothers.  

When my son married, I turned his care over to his wife – a huge relief for all three of us – and they seem to be living happily ever after.

I do recommend Steenhouse’s book for any parent who is facing having to say that big “Good Bye.” You can get it on Amazon and even though it’s a bit dated, the information still applies. I try to get a copy for every over-attentive-trying-to-let-go parent I know to read during that busy Senior year because dorm move- in time will be here before they know it.   

 

As for the huge fan? It’s still in our attic. After all, someday we might have a grandchild who ends up at Mercer and he or she is going to need a fan.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

angels to the rescue...

"All God's angels come to us disguised." - James Russell Lowell

 

I believe in angels and am pretty sure they walk amongst us all the time. Admittedly, I have a vivid imagination, but over the years I've encountered what were most surely angels over and over again. Sometimes they come in the form of a misfit animal, limping down the street or dumped on my doorstep, in need of food and lodging until I find them a new home. Those angels tend to show up at the most inconvenient times, but invariably, before they leave, give back more than they have received.

Other angels show up to provide support or rescue at exactly the right time. One such angel appeared to me in a Piggly Wiggly parking lot on a very rainy day shortly after we moved to Georgia. My groceries were in paper sacks and as I carried them towards the car, the sacks gave way and my food went rolling all over the parking lot. Alone, overwhelmed, homesick, wet and sad, I sat down on the bumper of my car and cried.

Then, I heard a voice, the softest, kindest, gentlest voice I've ever heard, say, "There, there, Sugar - everything's going to be alright." I looked up and there was a brightly dressed woman, with the most lit-up face. She had a scarf on, but the rain didn't seem to even be falling on her and in what seemed like an instant, she had my food gathered up in a canvas shopping bag and loaded in the car. Before she left, she hugged me really tight and whispered again, "I mean it, Sugar, everything's going to be just fine for y'all here." Then she was gone, poof! I have no memory of watching her walk away.  

That was such an inconsequential thing, helping me with my groceries in the rain; but, at the time it seemed like a miracle because what that angel really did was give me hope that things would turn out okay in my new home. And, it's clear, 25 years later, that she was right.  

Another angel came to Mr. Clark and I at a time when we were under a lot of stress, things were going poorly for us financially and our marriage was a mess. It was a hot Sunday morning in August, eight years ago. Our daughter was getting married in a few days and we were trying to spruce things up for a houseful of out-of-town guests. One of the things on our to-do list was repair an old building in the back yard with some barn wood. We had spotted a collapsed barn on what appeared to be a deserted lot out in the country and we were headed that way.

 
As Mr. Clark started to back into what once had been a driveway, he landed our old pickup truck in a ditch so deep there was no way out. In trying to pull out of the ditch, he buried the truck in axle-deep mud. There we were, seething and sweating in the hot sun, pretty much hating each other for a million reasons other than that we were stuck in the middle of nowhere and neither of us had remembered to bring our cell phone. It was a tipping point and the only thing we agreed on was that once we got this wedding pulled off, a divorce would be next.

Then, out of the clear blue, a great big diesel pickup truck pulled up - it was black, a huge dualie with a winch on the front. A tall, fit-looking fellow man dressed in a Sunday suit got out and said, "You look like you could use some help." Then, before we could even respond, he opened a large tool box in the back of the truck, got out some tow cables and other things and had our old truck out of the ditch before we could register what was going on. 

He did this without getting any mud or dirt on his clothes or shoes; his hands weren't even dirty and I don't recall that he wore gloves. "This really wasn't such a big deal," he said, as he stepped back into his truck and prepared to drive away. "You're going to be alright, trust me on this." Then, poof! just like the angel in the Piggly Wiggle parking lot, he was gone. Neither of us could remember seeing him drive away....

"You know that was an angel," Mr. Clark said; this would be Mr. Clark, the computer guy, who doesn't believe in such things. "His message was pretty clear. We can get through this if we just stick together." And, like the other angel, the angel in the black truck was right. 

Luciano de Crescenzo said, "We are each of us angels with only one wing and we can only fly by embracing one another." What a lovely thought. Sometimes, especially during the tough times, it’s hard to reach out and fly a little closer to one another. But if we do – or even if we don’t - the angels are out there, waiting to be seen.