SHELTER ME DEEP
SHELTER ME DEEP
BY JOHN TUFT
One of the enduring mysteries of human existence is the leveling power of paradox. A strange thought to hold in my mind as I approached this particular building. It is set off to the side in a residential area of Lynchburg, Virginia. It is pleasant in appearance and purpose. It is a place that holds many a story of sadness and redemption, the Humane Society Animal Shelter. It has someone’s name on it that escapes me, and the different sections inside the building have name plaques proudly announcing just how humane local places and local folks truly are. A building chock full of rescued dogs and cats. And before you ask as you discover just where I’m going with this, I have two so-called rescue dogs taking up residence in my own house, Casper and Rue.
I was there for the express purpose of gathering intel. In other words, I had an idea for one of these stories. A conversation with Shambles, a ten-year-old rescue cat. That’s now a story for another day. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, this “humane” side of the human race toward fellow inhabitants of this planet. We’ll just stipulate that all who work there do so with open hearts. I found hallways of cages and enclosures, rooms full of cats and the grand hallway of large dogs…waiting. This is the purgatory we humans invent in our fear, yet it is humane for these creatures. I found a blue-eyed dog and a cat in a mailbox. Small kittens asleep on heating pads and bowls of treats for the large dogs who are in pass through cages when the place is not full. I saw humans, mostly in pairs, walking slowly, talking softly, looking for…something. A connection, a sweetness of demeanor, a hope. I leave it to you to decide.
Friends who knew why I was going to the shelter have asked me what I learned. And the reaction to my intel is not unlike the reaction of those who ask my opinion of a movie we watched together. When I say things like “The writer couldn’t find an ending” or “her agent got her a big speech and closeups” or “the director sure likes staircases and walking dialogue to infer action during exposition” I am met with cries of dismay. My underlying point being that if that’s what I was thinking about, the story did not suck me into that magical place of moviedom. Bear that in mind as we enter this humane animal shelter together. Humans are the one species on the earth capable of population control, but we recoil in horror at the very suggestion that we need to control our own population. For humane purposes.
We live in a world of shelters for both homeless animals and homeless humans. Both are admissions of compassion… and defeat. I find myself wondering if we look at sheltered humans the same way we look at sheltered dogs. Which one gets the bulk of our attention and empathies? Examples of cruelty to animals rate an openmouthed horror and outrage, with energy and dollars flowing in to help. While the slaughter of school children makes us clutch our weapons of firepower and opinion yet closer to our souls to soothe the gutter sludge of helplessness. We have both the compelling instinct to care for each other and to kill each other. Again, we have both. We can justify the need for both no-kill animal shelters and capital punishment. World religions appear to both gather likeminded persons to our symbols and justify the segregating of those not of our mindset. It is we human perishables who are making the rules and we are making it up as we go along.
I learned that we’re not always sure about what we want or need in a pet. I learned there are people with good hearts from all walks of life. And I learned that we don’t know what to do with our mistaken intentions, otherwise animal shelters would not feel necessary. And, lest you abandon all hope for this writer, I learned that I’m a sucker for old cats and puppies that look me in my eyes daring me to fall in love with them. Because I do. And I live with that paradox. Among the consequences. Sheltered deep by Casper and Rue.
Words are magic and writers are wizards.
