A lovely day

Last Thursday morning, I awoke to pouring rain. I read email and stared out the window with dread. I like rain, but I don’t like driving in rain. Because I work from home, I don’t usually have to–I can postpone errands until the skies are clearer.

But Thursday was a transport day , and since their first official transport in September, I haven’t missed shooting photos at any of them. They’ve never asked me to photograph all the transports, though they appreciate it as my contribution to their social media outreach. I’m not wealthy; I can’t write big checks. My own social media outreach is modest when compared to popular bloggers. But shooting photos is one service I can provide, and I enjoy doing it.

I’m not a professional photographer, so my photos aren’t always great, but what I lack in skill I try to compensate for in enthusiasm and reliability. So that morning, as little as I wanted to drive on rainy freeways and side streets, I reminded myself that it would also be raining on the fosters who were driving their dogs to the meeting place. It would be raining on the vet techs who’d take the dogs from boarding kennels to the waiting volunteers outside. It would be raining on Mike the driver, his wife LC, and the board members who’d be coordinating the transport. And most of all, it would be raining on the dogs who might not understand that this leg of their journey was toward a forever home instead of the euthanasia table.

So I got ready and dug out some of Tom’s rain gear, not so much to keep me dry as to protect my camera. And as I backed out of my driveway, the skies cleared. Though clouds came and went during the loading process, it never rained again until after I drove away from the meeting place. That was a great outcome, but as I was there, I remembered again that whatever time or energy I give this effort is nothing compared to what it gives to me.

First, I get to see lives being saved. How powerful is that? How often, if we aren’t healthcare workers or first responders, do we get to witness that?

Second, it’s very easy for my heart to be broken by stories of animal neglect and cruelty even if I have only minimal awareness of news stories. If I donate to animal rescue groups and get on mailing lists, if I see those heart-wrenching pleas for donations on commercials, I wonder how humans can be so inhumane. Why do people overbreed animals, hoard them, fight them, or mistreat them? Why are there so many animals in need? I end up feeling discouraged and helpless and overwhelmed by the sheer scope of the problem. But then I go to these transports and I see how many people give their time and effort to making rescue a success. I see everyone’s affection for animals who pass through their hands and homes. I observe their tender care and hear their reassuring words to the dogs and cats. They restore my faith in humanity. They remind me that there are a lot more people who want to help and protect and nurture animals. They are a tonic for my soul, and I’ve driven for far more inconsequential reasons in worse conditions, and expended my time and energy on significantly less important things.

It’s an honor and a privilege to be a witness to this compassionate work.