It’s 6pm on Friday, and I’m writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I am writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.
Here’s the thing.
I have a dog Janet, and she’s been ill for almost two years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She’s almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then, an adult officially - and she was my child.
She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.
She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.
She’s almost 14 and I’ve never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She’s a pacifist.
Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact.
We’ve lived in numerous houses, and jumped a few make shift families, but it’s always really been the two of us.
She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.
She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me all the time we recorded the last album.
The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she’s used to me being gone for a few weeks every 6 or 7 years.
She has Addison’s Disease, which makes it dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and to excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.
Despite all of this, she’s effortlessly joyful and playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago.
She’s my best friend and my mother and my daughter, my benefactor, and she’s the one who taught me what love is.
I can’t come to South America. Not now.
When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.
She doesn’t even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she’s not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That’s why they are so much more present than people.
But I know that she is coming close to point where she will stop being a dog, and instead, be part of everything. She’ll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.
I just can’t leave her now, please understand.
If I go away again, I’m afraid she’ll die and I won’t have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.
Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes to pick which socks to wear to bed.
But this decision is instant.
These are the choices we make, which define us.
I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love and friendship.
I am the woman who stays home and bakes Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend.
And helps her be comfortable, and comforted, and safe, and important.
Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life, that keeps us feeling terrified and alone.
I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time.
I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.
I need to do my damnedest to be there for that.
Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I’ve ever known.
When she dies.
So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel.
And I am asking for your blessing.
I’ll be seeing you.
This letter was beautiful. Much respect to Fiona.
Compassion actually comes from two Latin words. The first word is ‘Patior’ and its participle ‘Pass’ which means suffering; and the ‘Com’ part is ‘With’. So ‘Compassion’ means ‘Suffering with’.
So to have compassion for someone is to suffer with them what they’re suffering with; whether that’s pain, or grief, or addiction, or poverty, or illness, or even happiness. You can have compassion for someone’s happiness, I suppose.
Compassion makes me think of kindness. Compassion makes me think of forgiveness, of empathy. Those are the things… Compassion is kindness, forgiveness and empathy, lack of judgment, care, concern…
Compassion is about understanding.
Compassion is without ego.
Hello. Please take a minute to sign this petition. Simply click on the puppy’s picture to get to the petition website. If it isn’t too much, please share it too. Thanks so much for your time. :)
Why This Is Important
A House Bill is now at the Congress filed by Congresswoman Bernadette Herrera-Dy of the Bagong Henerasyon Party List to amend the Animal Welfare Act (or Republic Act 8485) and increase penalties for those who have committed acts of cruelty to animals.
Under the said House Bill 5849, convicted animal offenders face a prison term of not less than six (6) years and one day to twelve years (12) or a fine of not less than P50,000. The current Act only has a prison term of six months up to two (2) years and fines up to P5000.
My kitten, Ankh. <3
This is the kitten I found yesterday near the main road. She was inside a plastic bag. DX I couldn’t leave her alone, she might suffocate inside the bag, get run-over by a vehicle or some kids might do something bad to her. There were no other kittens inside the plastic bag. She’s quite chubby and can already walk. I am having difficulty feeding her. I had to force feed. I can’t promise she’ll survive. Kittens really do need their mothers at this stage of their life. Shame on you irresponsible humans… >__>
Please spay/neuter your companion animal.
“Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home. As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience. The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, “I know why.” Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life – like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The six-year-old continued, “Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.””
excuse me while I go bawl my eyes out…
hold on im trying to collect my tears but they keep coming
Harper the pit bull was born with a condition called “swimmer puppy disorder,” and most dogs born with it don’t survive. The disorder causes rigid limbs and tight muscles, leaving puppies lying flat on their chests with their legs splayed out.
After being found in a garbage bag and taken to an animal shelter where she was scheduled to be euthanized, Harper was rescued by shelter worker Erica Daniel and can walk now thanks to hydrotherapy and love.
STOP SCROLLING FOR TWO SECONDS AND TAKE A MINUTE TO READ THIS
This is my dog Annie. She is a 6 month old golden retriever. Last month I woke up in the middle of the night to her crying and barking, then the door slamming shut. I jumped out of bed and ran to the door only to find the floor and doorknob covered in blood. Annie was missing. I ran outside and saw a truck driving away so I chased it down the street but it was too fast. I went back home and called the police and sat in Annie’s blood and cried.
I got a call from the police today saying they found Annie. The men who kidnapped her were using her to fight against other dogs. They tell me this photo was taken two weeks ago, and that they probably hadn’t fed her since the capture. Annie was torn limb from limb by a rabid American Pitbull. She was just a baby and was taken from me too soon. Please reblog this so we can put an end to animal abuse.
As a big animal lover this brought tears to my eyes, many humans are the animals and if captured should be put down or worse, my heart goes out to you my friend, I would be totally gutted so have a idea how you must be feeling, some fucking sad bastards for sure
*FUCK PEOPLE WHO RAISE PITBULLS TO BE AGRESSIVE & VIOLENT
That is disgusting. People who do this shit are disgusting.
What a terrible thing that poor dog had to go through. ;(((((