I woke up at 3 a.m. thinking about the thirty-six border collies, covered in feces removed from the half-million-dollar mansion that has been condemned. My manure pile is cleaner than that house. Pictures of better days—the owner dressed up, hair coiffed, ribbons proudly held next to dogs now smeared in filth flipped through my mind. I said prayers for the dogs, for the woman.
She had the bond that comes from training and showing them. What happened where she lost touch so badly, her beloved dogs became covered in filth?
She was involved in several communities around dog sports — trainers, other competitors, co-owners of her dogs. On Facebook I read shocked comments -- this wasn’t the woman we knew.
The neighbors complained about the smell, but did they ever visit with her? On those twenty visits did the police bring someone skilled in cracking the fear, shame and addiction to convince her to get help? When they threatened to take her dogs, did she get skilled at hiding her trouble?
We live in a culture that has made rejecting “toxic” people a virtue. And by toxic, often the memes mean anyone who is difficult or odd. Often this includes parents.
The loneliness of not making the cut as someone’s friend, the hurt when people are too busy, too full of themselves to ask how you are, to listen, can feel like being “shut in without escape.” Who knows the difference we might make if we listened to our neighbors’ stories even the difficult ones.
I’m Katie Andraski and that’s my perspective.
