02/04/2022
A friend shared. So glad to have read it. Its long but it hits home w rescue.
Yesterday Mary was at an adoption event inside a pet supply store. A group of people walked in to the shop, and one lady turned to me and said, “Are these dogs up for adoption?” I affirmed, and she began to shower Mary with attention, while telling me immediately she can’t adopt another dog right now.
The woman came back to Mary after some browsing, and turned to ask Mary’s foster in a whisper, “How much?” I explained to the shopper that we request a donation at the time of adoption, and the suggested amount is $250. The way she recoiled, you would have thought my mouth had opened up and spit flames in her face! “Two-fifty?!?,” she exclaimed in horror!
This is generally the time when I explain to the uninitiated that all of our dogs come spayed or neutered, microchipped, fully vaccinated and boostered, heartworm negative, f***l cleared, and current on preventatives. Often with baseline bloodwork and urinalysis as well. And that all of this vetting would have cost any adopter far more than the $250 (tax-deductible) donation.
I would usually explain that “free” or low-cost adoptions at municipal shelters are made possible because the minimal vetting provided is generally subsidized by taxes and grants. But that we are a private, all-volunteer organization which operates entirely on donations. I could mention how covering basic needs for each pet in our care adds up quickly—food, bowls, leashes, collars, tags, crates, p*e pads, grooming, boarding, training. Or the expenses of running a rescue—cleaning supplies, transportation, fundraising, mobile events—I could go on.
I would possibly suggest that if she doesn’t have easy access to $250, this might not be the right time to add a pet to her family, since an unexpected illness or injury would likely run her much more than that at her regular vet.
But honestly, I was exhausted, a little offended, and didn’t have it in me to educate like I would normally try to in this instance. I knew this woman wasn’t planning to adopt Mary, and felt a little like I was being trolled. So I simply said, “We’ve spent a few thousand dollars on her vetting. She was very sick and now has a clean bill of health.”
I didn’t go into the many frantic phone calls I made to every vet we have partnered with when the shelter sent out the plea for emergency rescue on Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend. Or the endless hours spent on the road that day getting her from the shelter to the clinic, then from the clinic to the ER in an effort to save her life. Or the hours I spent waiting and wringing my hands while the doctors tried to save her and her unborn babies. I didn’t go into the fact that Mary almost died twice the day we saved her, had emergency surgery, and then spent a couple of nights in the emergency room. I didn’t mention that we had spent $2,000 to help Mary just within the first 6 hours of pulling her.
I also didn’t go into how she had lost every single one of her babies to a mystery illness, or how many trips we had made to the vet for more bloodwork, more meds, spending more and more money. I didn’t inform her about how Mary, her first foster, so many vet staff, and I had all grieved her babies. Or stayed up worrying about whether she herself would survive. And I didn’t explain to this woman that a $250 donation would be a drop in the bucket toward helping us step up for the next sweet dog whose life is in danger, thanks to the irresponsible, neglectful behavior of humans who did not value their dog’s life. But I was thinking about all of that.
So when this woman went over to Mary and told her pointedly, “I would take you home, but you’re too expensive. You’re tooooo expensive...,” let’s just say it was a good thing we were in the location of an esteemed retail partner who expects a certain level of decorum. And that I had Dina Fabiana standing next to me, offering quiet moral support as I bit my tongue.
To any animal I have ever rescued, who is here on earth or up in Heaven (there are several hundred of you now), please know this: You are NOT too expensive!
Whether your vet bills were $400 or $10,000, you are worth every single penny. You are worth every single hour I’ve spent caring for you or advocating for you. You are worth every single mile I’ve driven making sure you were safe. You are worth every single stress headache, emotional breakdown, night of lost sleep, or moment of profound grief. You are worth every missed social engagement or trip, you’re worth every disgusting thing I’ve had under my fingernails or in my eye, every ruined piece of property, every scrape, bruise, or bite. You were worth giving up a career, and losing a job. You are worth every moment of joy, tribulation, and heartache. You’ve been worth every tear I’ve shed for you or because of you. And I will never, EVER send you home with someone who thinks you’re not worth $250.
