What Visiting An Animal Sanctuary Can Do

Ben and I recently had the opportunity to visit our friends in Lompoc, CA who run a non-profit (shadowsfund.org) animal sanctuary for pit bulls  senior dogs, horses, pigs and one sheep that thinks it's a horse.  I came home changed.  A lot, or maybe just a little.  Maybe it will wear off.  Maybe I'll forget the experience and the impact it had on my whole outlook.  But maybe not.

What Visiting An Animal Sanctuary Can Do...

Reminds you that all life has value.  Ben saved a family of baby mice.  He looked down and saw them wiggling in the grass, all exposed and tiny.  We packed a bucket full of hay and put a tarp over it in hopes that they would survive until mom returned.  I hugged a five-hundred pound pig.  When we came home, I set a giant spider free outside instead of stomping.  

This is Hamlet.  I love him.

Makes you want to change the world.  You see all the daily tasks it takes to create a safe environment for so many lives - walks, food, cleaning. love, volunteers, finances, donors, events, awareness to mention a few - and it makes you want to do something, anything.  Even if it's just stitching together a few blankets for the dogs you now love and miss.  Or making time to walk pups at a local shelter.  Or simply giving money to those people changing the world. 

Shows you the uninterrupted joy a soul can have.  There is dog at the ranch who is paralyzed from the waist down.  She is the happiest dog I've ever met.  All she wants is someone to get her toy.  You wouldn't ever know she couldn't fully walk for the joy she has scooting around on her front legs.  You try telling her she can't keep up.  Give her a cart and she'll take on the world, not to mention the other dogs in the house.

Recalls to mind the love you have for your own animal.  The dogs that are lucky enough to find themselves at the ranch are the sweetest, most animated animals.  They bound around with energy rivaling the Grand Coulee Dam.  They hunker down on the couch and just want their belly's rubbed.  They love to sniff out deer and quail.  They are determined and smart and beautiful.  We came home to our one dog after seeing their 30 and just cuddled him for hours. Indy is such a good dog.  He is a handful of energy and giant ears.  He has a personality all his own.  He lets us know when Felix needs our attention.  He herds him when he rolls off his blanket.  He has simple needs and loves us unconditionally.  We love him so.

Makes you want to conserve things.  Even more than you did before.  Turn off lights, use less water, cloth instead of paper towels.  Walk instead of drive when you can.  

Shows you how horrible people are.  I had a hard time listening to the stories of some of the dogs.  I was shocked and appalled by what some humans are capable of.  One dog named Honey was a bait dog in a fighting ring.  She'd had her paws taped together and her mouth taped shut in a ring to get the other dogs hyped up.  I can't begin to tell you how angry and just at a loss for words that makes me.  She was the sweetest, and (duh) most nervous thing.  All she wanted was pets.  She made me cry.  She made me remember that people suck.  They are horrible and should have their fingernails pulled off with pliers and fed to them in shards.  Or at least have to listen to the Small World song on repeat for days.

This is Honey.  

Shows you how wonderful people are.  Cody and Jill were meant to be the animal saviors they have grown to be.  They are the ones that restore my faith in humanity.  They remind me that, as long as there are are horrible people out there screwing things up, there will be the gentle, humble, only-in-it-for-the-tail-wags, life-affirming custodians there to clean up the mess.  

Cody, Jill and the pups.

It was hard to leave.  That's for sure.  I fell in love with dogs (and a pig).  Ben fell in love with dogs.  We fell in love with the ranch and what it stands for, how it is changing the world, dog by dog.  It was a trip infinitely worth taking and one we hope to take again.