# A Note from Beverly Briggs



## CindyM (Mar 20, 2007)

I got the following in an email today:

_This is one of the most heart tugging, heart breaking, and beautifully written pieces I've read in a very long time....it is long, but please, take a few minutes and read it. This one touched my soul. Beverly Briggs, new to rescue, is a volunteer with the newly formed Rockcastle Co (KY) organization RAIN (Rockcastle Animals in Need). They are fightin g a tough battle in this rural county, and they need for you, who are pulling, adopting or fostering animals, to give their animals a look. Many of the ones currently on their petfinder http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/KY308.html have until tomorrow. Like all of our county shelters, there is ALWAYS need; please help where you can. Beverly gave me permission via Kim Brinson to post her thoughts, and to use it on our website http://WWW.URKY.ORG ....it will make you cry, and it won't leave you feeling warm and fuzzy, but it WILL remind you why we have to keep working...thank you Beverly, thank you._


*It is funny how something that is very, very young can deeply affect something that is very old and worldly; something that, on the surface, seems to have no wisdom to impart turns out to be able to teach all the wisdom that the world has to offer ... something that has no voice is able to speak volumes in a universal manner. Consider that the human has a frontal lobe, opposable thumbs, the top of the food chain on two legs. Humanity has developed philosophy and music, invented technologies to bring comfort and luxury to the species, and runs in a frenzied manner that would put a caged rodent on a wheel to shame. However, for all of this, mankind can slow the pace of the journey to their eventual demise. It just takes something very, very young to show how.

Homer came to my attention in a heart wrenching manner. His pitiful three month old body was twisted into a contortion of pain in a metal cage. The brightly colored blanket the veterinary staff had gently placed him on only highlighted the despair. Homer was shot through both eyes by a small caliber pistol - the bullet had entered the left eye socket and proceeded in a horizontal path to cut across and exit just under the right eye damaging the cheek bone. His pain was in evidence by his stance - he had turned his back to the wall and shuddered as he breathed.

I slowly approached not allowing myself the luxury of useless tears. When I opened the cage, he did not move. When I softly whispered his name, he did not respond. When I picked him up, the softest whimper (a sound I shall never erase from my mind) came from deep inside his throat. I am a dog rescuer - busy beyond description - trying to save that which many of my species, at the best, tends to considers disposable. I quietly moved to a more peaceful area away from the noisy, hustle and bustle of the medical staff to a secluded alcove and began to rock him and whisper to him. He stopped his whimpering and began to nuzzle toward the warmth of my chest, leaned his ear against my throat where he could hear the pulse of blood in my veins. We sat like this for some time until his breathing slowed to match my own.

Doc came toward me with the 'look' but I stared hi m down. He returned with a soft, blue blanket and murmured, "Beverly, he needs to be put down ... he will not eat." I replied, "I can get him to eat." 

The journey home was very slow - I usually justify the utility of revenue collection via traffic tickets due to my rate of speed behind the wheel as I am beyond busy. The walk to the house I stay in was very slow (I have no home in the Native American sense as I claim no ownership) and my movements upon arrival were 'snail pace.' I tended to the bare needs of the other eight rescue pups planning to do the in depth care after Homer dozed off. Carefully, I opened his mouth the tiniest bit and gave him pain medication and antibiotics. An eternity passed while I waited for it to take effect. With great precision, I applied the topical antibiotic to what was left of his eyes when he was in a numb state. I had heated up some chicken broth while carrying him like a papoose - he made no effort to resist as I got a few syringes of the liquid into his body. 

All the while, Anubis watched me. She was a rescue from the heinous Rockcastle County Animal Shelter. Her arrival here was memorable - coccidia, worm infestation, starvation - the KY Humane Society had advised me to put her down due to her food aggression and her fear of humans. Her alert eyes questioned my treatment of this new one. Anubis is the disciplinarian of the 'yard' dogs. If they jump up on me as I bring water or food or clear the manure, she runs to nip them in the tender regions. If they bark, she charges over and chases them into their doghouses. Quietly, contemplatively she gazed at this puppy. I sat down. She approached and sniffed. A quick glance at me. Then she began to softly nuzzle the pup and lick at his eyes. Holding back useless tears, I gently placed him down on a blanket. She encircled his emaciated body with her own and stared at me. Now, food aggressive means just that. Funny that she never went near his broth in the bowl. For the first time, his tail wagged. As I leaned over to feed some more, he gently licked my hand. "No," I told myself. "No, do not cry." Whe n I left them, he was asleep next to her but she was wide awake with a vigilant look on her countenance.

I went back to my usual rate of speed but she did not accompany me on my rounds. Water, food, manure detail but, no time to play, no time to let the others run off the lines. Rush into the house and let my first rescues out of the crates but no time to exercise them either. Then, zoom to the computer to put out requests for sponsorship for Homer, to search other rescues to see if there were rooms available for the thirty dogs at that kill shelter that I know will be put to sleep on April 1st if no homes can be found, and to prepare for a new dog's arrival. All of our foster homes are filled to capacity so I must appeal to strangers. Slam down a quick cup of coffee. Speed back to .... her gentle ministrations to the puppy and her low growl at me as I approached. "Good, Anubis, good. Let me have him, Anubis, it has been three hours and he has to be hydrated." With a sigh, she relinquished her guardianship and I began to feed again. During the entire night that was broken down to three hour intervals, she hardly ever left his side.

As dawn colored the horizon in shades of pastels, he had eaten enough in order to use the bathroom and the stool looked black. Hoping that it was only hookworm infestation, I bundled him back up. He was making progress now - licking my hand that held gruel but still, he did not lap from the bowl. Anubis remained on watch while I did the morning rounds with the others who were quite hyper due to no exercise the day before. The usual routine starts at 8 AM and ends at 8 PM - dogs are creatures that embrace routine. The routine was off now so the work went slowly due to jumping and complaints about being on the leads. 

Hoping not to miss the contactor who wa s coming to give me an estimate on fencing, I sped to the vet's office with the stool sample. Anubis was still with the pup when I left. She was there when I returned with my diagnosis - not hook worms. Internal bleeding. Game called on account of human cruelty - mankind score one and puppy score zero. Anubis had not left his side. Her food and water were untouched. As I approached, Homer tried to get up and come to me but his limbs did not support the effort so he collapsed. Anubis rushed over and grabbed his collar to drag him back. I got there quickly and scooped him up fearing that the 'drag' would cause more pain for him. As I scooped him up, she jumped up on me. "No, Anubis, you'll hurt him. Down, Anubis, down." Carrying him into the house, I arranged some speakers so that he could hear some soft music on the porch (maybe it was for me as I was on my last leg of emotional control) and began to feed him his last meal. I had missed the contractor (of course). I had missed many phone calls and emails (of course) as I nurtured him for the last time on this planet. "It's over, Anubis, it's over." 

In the vet's office as I waited for the needle, I listened to the people around me speak of their lives. I noted their complaints about the cost of vet care or their inability to pay today. I pondered their responses with a cold, steely resolve. Yes, heartworm medication certainly is expensive. No, neutering a male does not emasculate the animal and render him useless. Yes, you really do need to administer those 'expensive' vaccines .... and on and on BUT I did not mutter a word and I dared not make eye contact. "Beverly," is someone calling my name? "Beverly," oh yes, the needle, I remember. Right. Looking up, I catch Doc's glance. In the office I say," Don't worry ... I am not going to cry." The tourniquet, the smell of rubbing alcohol. "I got him to eat, Doc." "Yes, you did, Beverly. I am so ..." "Don't say it, Doc. Please, I know you are going down to the shelter ... I am so tired .... can you give me just a couple more days to look for more people, please Doc, just a couple more days?" The needle is in the vial now drawing up the fluid. " Doc, some of the dogs look purebred, just a couple more days? You could call the county judge and put this off ... our foster homes are full and I need to get a hold of some more ..." He stops me. "Beverly, I can wait until Friday night, the shelter is filled, would that work for you?" 

The needle is in the puppy now so I turn my attention to him. He glances at me with no eyes. "It is all right, no more pain, no more pain," I softly murmur. "Just go now." His body slowly relaxes, his tongue lolls out, Doc places the stethoscope on his bony body searching for a heartbeat and finding none. No more pain.

I am an animal rescuer. Welcome to my world. There is music in it. There are books to read that I have no time to read, to contemplate the philosophies. There are technological advances that I seldom use as I am outside most of the time with those who bark and cavort, who simply seek love from our species in return for their unconditional love, the superior life form who has so little regard for their needs. I am an animal rescuer who spends fourteen hours a day trying to change things - really, I had not the time to write these words. Today, I will slowly work for I am grieving. I will seek to find better ways to help. I will listen to the birdsong and watch their antics on my porch ( a huge bird feeder now). I will walk four footed critters and will be constantly training, training, training. Will you walk with me on this path? Will you stand with me for better treatment of animals? - Beverly Briggs

"It is as if life had said, 'I am going to send you into a world of cruelty. I shall make you sensitive to pain, fear, heat, cold, hunger and starvation. In this world of cruelty I shall make you defenseless. In addition I shall strike you dumb.' This is the kind of world that animals are born into." - Grace Johnson *


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## Karin (Jan 4, 2008)

So very sad and touching. I'm sitting at my computer with tears running down my face feeling so bad for this little pup and all of the many, many others like him.


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## baxterbrown11 (Mar 23, 2009)

Thanks for sharing that story from Beverly.
I know what it's like to see them waiting and worrying even at shelters. I wish I could take them all.
My rescue last year is great now. She is one cool dog. She tore up my whole house and yard. But, I stuck it out. She hardly ever tears anything now it is going to be one year in May.
She was brought back once, gee wonder why. But, she would of surely been deemed non adoptable sooner or later. She fills our lives with joy now. She is at least 90 -95 lbs of sheer joy, I am always laughing at her funny talk or being just a goof , she is velcro, big heart full of love, a well behaved nutter butter. The shelter couldn't believe how good she looked when I showed them pictures. She was this skinny dog who just looked a mess. 
Last week she was snoring and doing her usual funny stuff. Then to my misbelieve she started wagging her tail in her sleep, and it kept hitting this chest by her dog bed. I put my hand over my mouth, I was cracking up and hoping she would do it once more and she did. Later I thought you know I am glad she is so happy.
Just wanted to share that story.


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## Kayos and Havoc (Oct 17, 2002)

Oh god..... how awful.


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