Bonnie and Clyde Files 38

My brief hiatus from the sanctuary ended right after the new year. I arrived in rain, a hard rain, and not expecting my usual exuberant greeting from Bonnie and Clyde.

I pulled in the driveway and I heard their barking and howling and pulled myself together. Or should I say they pulled me together.

Several weeks earlier, I had felt utterly pulverized as a human being after an animal shelter denied me employment as a grant writer and then denied me the opportunity to walk the shelter dogs because of my status. When I heard the news, it was the body blow of a lifetime, the worst, worst than the pillory by the judge or the public stoning via social media or the loss of friends I truly loved.

I had the skills and passion to save this shelter from bankruptcy. I could write and save dogs. I could find purpose and save myself.

No. Fear ruled. Fear crushed me.

How can I possibly lick that?

I went to the gate and released the dogs. They avalanched me and I cried. My pea coat was stuffed with treats and Clyde tore at the frayed pocket. Bonnie went over and said hello to the moldy gnome. At that moment, Bonnie and Clyde reset me as a human being. They were fearless in their acceptance.

Bonnie had recuperated nicely from her recent laser surgery on the torn ACL and had a new goofy hitch in her gimp. As I watched her bound through the pasture, I wondered if I walked any differently after everything that had happened to me. How could I not?

I talked to the dogs as we made our way to the river:

“I’ve missed you, you rain hounds! Did you miss me you treat hounds?”

The river was running with incredible gusto. The red bra was still hung up in the willows. Mud had piled up two feet thick in some areas on the banks. I noticed new driftwood here and and there and evidence of our disposable culture, ultimately our undoing.

I fed treats to the crew and watched rain splatter the current. I looked at their old faces and recalled their struggle in a shelter. Someone had come along to help them. That someone was Jacque. Look where her good work had led. It had found me.

My mind drifted back to my terrible rebuke. I was a human being in severe distress who turned up at an animal shelter trying to help severely distressed dogs and was turned away by human beings who love dogs. Is there a word for that? There should be. There should also be a new word for what Bonnie and Clyde provide me. I will devise one.

It was time to head back even though I had all the time in the world and rain felt comforting.

Jacque met me at the gate and I told her what happened with the animal shelter. She almost started crying and just shook her head at humanity. Fortunately, she wasn’t a part of that branch.

And for that I could thank her for helping save my life. And I did thank her.

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