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Wanted . . . Live-in
caretaker for large "no-kill" animal sanctuary . . .
The words practically
jumped out of the Lexington Herald-Leader Sunday classifieds at
me. I have always loved being around animals and had been
searching for a way to work with animals. I made the phone call
and spoke with Randy Skaggs (the founder and president of The Trixie
Foundation) to determine if this is what I had been searching for.
I made a visit to the sanctuary Eden the next day and fell in
love. It took all of five minutes to make the decision to move
from my home in Lexington and to the sanctuary. My family and
friends think I have completely lost my mind.
I
spent the first seven years of my life on a farm in Beattyville,
Kentucky. I then spent the next 10 years spending the summer
with my grandmother in Lexington and the remainder of the year on a
farm in the middle of an Amish community (I'm not Amish, this just
happens to be where my father's work took us) in rural Indiana.
We always had stray and orphaned animals, not only on the farm, but
also in the house. My mother was as crazy about animals as I was
and if something had lost its' mother, we brought it into the house to
raise. I'll never forget one winter when we had not only our dog
and cat in the house, but also a runt piglet, a rooster, and a possum.
They all lived together happily in our home and were loved and cared
for. I can still visualize them all lying there together in
front of the wood-burning stove on a cold morning.
I
left home when I was 17 and moved to Lexington. Over the years,
I married and had a son (it's hard to believe my baby is 27 years old
now and the father of my two beautiful grandchildren). I went to
college and became a registered nurse and spent the next 23 years
taking care of people. Over the past 15 years, nursing has
become increasingly hard and unsatisfying due to the hospitals being
taken over and managed by large companies who care more about making
money than caring for patients. I finally left hospital work
when the meetings, paperwork, and hospital politics made it impossible
to spend time with and take care of patients the way they should be
cared for. I have spent the last 10 years as an infusion
specialist where I have gone into patients' homes to administer IV
medications so they would be able to stay at home rather than be
hospitalized. This was an improvement from hospital work, but
something was still missing.
Over
the last few years, I have adopted two dogs. Muffin, my Golden
Retriever, was seized from an abusive home by the Humane Society,
where she had spent her first two years of life locked in a shed,
beaten and starved. When they brought her to me, she was shaking
so badly she could hardly stand up, was filthy and matted, and you
could see every bone in her body. It has been two years now and
she is a beautiful and healthy friend. She is still a one-person
dog, and may never be able to trust anyone but me, but we have made
great strides from where we started. Posie is my other baby.
She is a little Beagle who came to me in January of this year.
Her owners had her for 10 years. She had developed cataracts and
had "accidents" in her crate daily. Well, I'd have accidents,
too, if I was 70 years old (the equivalent in 10 dog years) and spent
12 - 14 hours per day locked in my crate while my owners were out
working and socializing. I worked with her owner, who said they
were going to take Posie to the Humane Society to be re-adopted since
they were afraid she would hurt their son now that he is old enough to
walk. Knowing that no one would adopt a 10-year-old dog with
cataracts and that she would be euthanized, I offered to adopt her.
I was warned that she would mess all over the house and destroy things
if I let her out of the crate. I still insisted on taking her.
Well, Posie hasn't seen her crate since the day she entered my home.
She hasn't offered to chew on anything except her toys, and the only
time she has had an accident is when I had to work late and didn't get
home in time to take her out (my fault, not hers!).
Posie and Muffin spend their days playing together and feel safe and
loved in my home. By the way--my grandson is one year old and
Posie allows him to play with her, pull on her tail, etc., and has
never offered to even growl at him. So much for the "reason" she
was going to be taken to the Humane Society.
Before coming here, I spent my evening watching "Animal Cops" on TV
and crying over all of the abused and neglected animals. During
the past year, I made the decision to try and find some other type of
job where I would be able to rescue and help animals. I thought
perhaps I could combine my nursing skills with caring for animals.
Every Sunday I looked at the classifieds, hoping to find what I was
looking for. Finally, "Wanted, live-in caretaker for 'no-kill'
animal sanctuary" just popped out at me.
I
really do think I'm finally home. . . .
--Debbie
Carol |
