Haunted

This morning I woke up at 02:45, wide awake, having a hard time processing what I had just dreamt. I was in the company of two ex-coworkers from the shelter. Someone had just brought us a large garbage bag full of live cats. We started sorting them out, deciding which ones we could put up for adoption and which ones wouldn’t make the cut. The last cat, a white and orange female cat was soaked in urine and upset as a hand grabbed her. The cats body stiffened and writhed as she attempted to escape the hand holding tightly to her scruff. There was a needle aiming at the vein in her leg. And all the while I continued my conversation with the coworkers, business as usual.

I still have dreams of my old job occasionally. Some are even sad. But this one had me lying awake in bed for some time before finally succumbing to sleep.

Some people would say this is a nightmare. To me it was just a dream of a life I once lived.

I know the type of job I once held is not ‘normal’. It wasn’t pretty, and definitely not anything people wanted to hear about. But it was a reality for me for so long. I suppose it will always be part of me. Still haunting the dark corners of my brain. Popping up in dreams occasionally just to remind me of the horrible parts. Maybe it was fueled by scrolling through social media at bedtime. Seeing posts from overcrowded animal shelters and overworked staff pleading people to adopt.

I have not had to euthanize an animal in quite some time. Many years ago that was part of my daily routine. I have since left the job, and even the state, and yet it seems to still have the ability to haunt me.

It is a reminder that we can move on with life but being part of the harsh reality of the animal welfare world stick with you forever, no matter how far you run. There is a small percentage of humans in this world that are directly involved in the horrors and daily realities of animal welfare. The majority of people see it from the outside. I am part of that small percentage of humans who will forever have to remember the unpleasant parts.

When I first joined this profession it was common to euthanize for space, for illness, for temperament. I’m so very glad that times have changed and so many more shelters are able to decrease those numbers. But it doesn’t change the past. It doesn’t change the fact that I, and many others, were part of the horrible time in our local county shelter specifically. It doesn’t change the fact that many shelters still have no other choice but euthanasia today.

No matter how many kittens I fostered and raised over the years, the numbers pale to those I had to put down. I am not overtly religious, but I personally believe there to be a heaven and hell. A good and a bad that mankind is to follow to prevent complete anarchy here on earth. Though shalt not kill is pretty high up there on the list of don’ts. So where does that put me? I’ve struggled with that thought since the beginning. Since the first day at the new job which had me assist in the euthanasia of a perfectly healthy cat. It’s a job. If I didn’t do it then someone else would. At least I could control the compassion, the atmosphere, the end for that particular animal. The burn out was real. The compassion fatigue was real. The callous that slowly grew around my heart was real.

I’ve never quite figured out a way to cope with the internal struggle of whether or not I am good enough to still have a chance at heaven.

Lately I had a hard time deciding what topic to write about. I have moved away from Michigan, and I am at this time no longer directly involved with a shelter or animal control department. But then this dream wakes me in the middle of the night, and I’m reminded that my past will always haunt me.