Why I Left

...you’re a total idiot and a waste of skin. The kind of person you are makes me wonder where your parents failed or was it just that most of you was a sheet stain and the brain wasn’t developed. Your father failed to pull out sooner. You actually make me re-think my pro-life stance. Mothers with negative IQ like your mother should be forced to abort larva like you. Eliminate stupidity. No wonder animals in your care suffer.

The above quote was an actual comment on a recent Facebook post of mine regarding this opinion of a fellow dog rescuer who passed away.

Before I go further, let me address the last sentence of the comment, because it’s the only one that bothered me.

The Rescue

In its nearly six-year run as a 501c3 state-reporting home-based rescue in the state of Virginia, U.S., Tazewell Animal Rescue Coalition (@tarc) saved the lives of more than five hundred dogs and never once received a citation from either local animal control officers, law enforcement, the Virginia Department of Agriculture, the IRS, or any other agency. Animal control officers were in our facility frequently on routine business as well as to follow up on complaints and took copious photos to document the reasons they found no fault whatsoever with our care of the animals or the paperwork we kept according to state guidelines. We were the only rescue agency within a hundred mile radius that successfully and legally sent dogs into New Hampshire, which is one of the only areas in the U.S. with a mandatory import state-agency quarantine procedure even for rescued animals. The people who called our practices into question were either completely ignorant of the facts, maliciously misled by troublemakers like the animal rescuer who died, or intentionally causing damage to the reputation of TARC due to political agendas that had been crossed by our activism.

Our facility wasn’t pretty. We bought it as distressed property in 2013 because of its location and price. It had concrete floors in the basement that could be sealed and sterilized for intake quarantine as well as disease quarantine as well as every basic amenity required for humans to stay in the facility round the clock. Toward the end, my failing health and the fact that all our volunteers succumbed to social pressure or the sheer amount of work required to properly care for so many unwanted animals meant the looks of the place took a solid back seat to hands-on care of the animals. In other words, if I had just enough physical strength and time in the day to either mow the grass or keep the dogs from sitting in shit, the grass just had to grow.

I’ve documented for years the toll lupus and rheumatoid arthritis has taken on me. I never kept it a secret. At this point I’m completely disabled and medically prohibited from ever working another day in my life, or lifting anything over twenty pounds. This circumstance cannot co-exist with hands-on animal rescue. People who imagine all kinds of nefarious reasons for TARC’s closing need only spend on afternoon with me to realize the truth. I cannot walk more than a few feet without a cane or my trusty mobility assistance canine. I climb one flight of stairs and need a fifteen minute break to keep from losing consciousness due to cardiac arrhythmia and stroke-level blood pressure. Direct sunlight makes me break out in a vicious skin rash and then rapidly decompensate into hypovolemic shock. Once I start sweating I cannot stop without mechanical intervention, and fifteen seconds of exposure to freezing temperature will cause my fingers and toes to turn deep purple with frostbite occurring moments later.

Not one person in the course of TARC’s run as a rescue and my health decline ever offered a single viable solution about how I might continue to operate a hands-on dog rescue while suffering from these very real and life-threatening health complications.

Above-stated is the reason I closed the rescue. There is no other underlying cause. When my physician advised me to apply for disability, I did--and received my benefits on the first try (after the requisite initial application that must be declined according to current federal practice) without once appearing before a judge or doctor’s panel to argue my cause. There was no hearing. That’s how complete and compelling the medical documentation is about my condition. This is all the “cause” any rational human being would need to understand why TARC is no longer operating as a receiving or sanctuary type agency. Only the intellectually impaired continue to speculate.

My Relationships

Guess what, folks? The man I married in 2011 is still my friend. We talk nearly every day. I still like him very much and love him as a human being. He makes me laugh nearly every time we have a conversation. But he and I haven’t lived together since 2014, and we realized quite a while ago that we are toxic for each other in close proximity. I adore his family and have nothing at all negative to say about anyone in his life. Gossipmongers who swear I “left” him for this reason or that are only grasping because, for whatever reason, they need the attention their wagging tongues will get them. I didn’t “leave” him. He and I simply reached the mutual conclusion that one of us will murder the other eventually if we’re confined to the same household, and since we both prefer to stay alive and healthy, we’ll remain very good friends and wish each other well in whatever endeavors we pursue. And we’ll also talk about the gossipmongers quite frequently together and have some wonderful belly laughs at their expense, because he and I have always had great fun mocking the idiocy we notice around us.

I Owe Money

There are several people in this world to whom I owe a few hundred dollars. If you feel I’ve forgotten, feel free to contact me privately. Let me assure you I haven’t forgotten anyone intentionally, and one of the main reasons I walked out of life in Southwest Virginia is so I could recover enough financially and psychologically to balance life in the real world again. I am beginning to repay personal debts as of this month. Repayment of the debts will be prioritized according to the following criteria: if you have been kind to me and we still talk often, you will see your money before I stock my cupboards or buy those cute new shoes I see in shop windows all over Europe. If you have treated me poorly, abused my trust, betrayed me, or been an asshole, you will see your money after everyone else sees theirs, and only when I am living in complete comfort without having to make a single sacrifice to get you off my back about the pocket change you lent me to get me off yours.

The Reason I Left

I left Southwest Virginia because Appalachia is likely the most toxic environment in the United States and the people there have no motivation or inclination to do better. Things will not improve there during this generation, and it’s doubtful they’ll improve in the next or even the next after that. It’s a dead end society, an incestuous clusterfuck of political incompetence and personal greed with less financial motivation than a need to be the meanest guppy in the fishbowl. People say things to each other like the comment I shared above and think that’s the way normal communities interact. Oh well. Let them keep thinking that. I can make their little lives hell with a lot less stress and risk from here in Europe than I ever could while living there among them with everything to lose.

The Reason I Came to Europe

I left the U.S. because I could, because the opportunity presented itself for me to travel abroad for less than it would cost me to remain in the States. I left the U.S. because health care alternatives are different here in Europe and I’d like to explore the possibilities for non-traditional and cutting-edge therapies to treat lupus. I left the U.S. because my best friend and business partner can only remain in the States for 90 days a year without a B2 visa, which he tried twice to obtain and was treated so poorly by U.S. Embassy officials in France both times that he is loath to ever make the effort again. Americans are idiots if they think people in Europe are clamoring to live in the States. Newp. Neither am I, after spending the last two months away from it.

So there you have it--this week’s installment of “Confessions of a Sheet Stain: a Memoir.” More info dumps ahead, so stay tuned.