protecting

I’m watching one of those super-hero shows (it doesn’t matter, they almost all do this) (okay, it’s The Flash).

This happens a lot: oh, gee, i have super powers. I can fight criminals! Oh, wait, i can’t tell anyone, because if my [spouse/child/friend/partner] knows my True Identity, the bad guys would try to hurt them to get back at ME for being a do-gooder.

Every now and then they let somebody in on it so they can get killed or something fun.

So my random thought was: this is a recurring theme in a lot of popular entertainment. What they are really doing is training the populace that secrets are really a good thing, and necessary to protect our loved ones. Secrets mean a Hero is trying to help the little people.

And then we wonder why conspiracy theories keep talking off.

learning new tricks

Old dog here. Still have some things to learn.

Thought i would share a glimpse of my life; something i do less of here lately. I didn’t always feel that i should shield myself from my own blog, but the twists in my life the last few years indicated that it might be better that way. I learned the really hard way that not everyone who portrays themselves as a friend really give a fuck about you, and some actually are trying to hurt you. But i digress.

I rescue animals. Especially dogs and cats. I work with a local animal control office and some shelters. The main thing is fostering, so the dog or cat has more time to find a new home. Shelters kill animals every day to make space for more animals.

There are too many unwanted animals, but that is a bigger society problem (caused because nobody wants to spay or neuter their ducking pets). But I digress.

The point of all this, if I have one, is that I put a ton of time and effort into dogs and cats that are not mine. While they are here, they are family, but it is understood they will not stay permanently. It is only until they find a real home. Sometimes it is a day or two. Sometimes it is many months. You never know and there is no way to guess. I pour everything into these poor creatures that someone else has discarded like trash. Feeding, loving, training. We don’t hold back.

They are family.

When they go – and that is always the plan, that they go – to a new home, a little piece of me dies. I love that someone else now has completed a piece of their family, but for that to happen, a tiny piece of mine has to break.

All I can do is hope for the best, hope I have prepared them, and hope that the new family is worthy of their love.