Thank You For Your Kind Words

I want to thank all the nice people who commented or wrote to me privately to tell me that they support me and that they know the only thing I care about is the animals. I know that my last post was heavy stuff. But actually, I feel relieved that I could finally tell my side.

The hardest part has been the evil people. I can't even comprehend how some people can come up with the mean things they say. Where do they find these evil thoughts? How do they justify the horrible things they say? How do they live with themselves? I mean, I could never have imagined the malicious gossip, the lies, the personal attacks. I never once thought to invent evil things to say about another person. I stick to the facts. Yes, I'm obviously an emotional person, but wouldn't you be, considering what has happened?

The worst evil thing people are saying is that these three innocent dogs died because I am a bad mother. I'm starting to cry right now just typing that. What a horrible thing to say.

Imagine this scenario, if you will.
You are a poor mother living in the slums of Detroit (or wherever). You have five children. You and your husband both work but your jobs barely pay for the necessities. This month, you chose to buy groceries for your family rather than pay the electric bill.
Then one of your daughters gets sick. You think it's just a cold, so you spend a bit of money on medicine. But she doesn't get better, she gets worse. So you take her to the free walk-in clinic. There, the overworked doctor says he wants to keep your daughter overnight. You comply and go home, leaving your daughter at the hospital.
The next day, no one calls to tell you how your daughter is doing. By late afternoon, you are so worried that you walk the mile over to the clinic to ask. The doctor says, "Oh, she just has an infection. Give her these pills and she will be fine." The nurse brings your daughter to you...in a wheelchair. She is not better, she is worse! She can't walk. She looks at you with sad, hopeful eyes.
The nurse gives you a bill for $600. It says, "Treatment". Nothing else. You pay it, knowing that you will have to make excuses (again) to your landlord for not having the rent money. You pick up your daughter and carry her to a taxi and go home.
At home, you put your daughter in bed and give her favorite meal: grilled cheese. She eats a bit but she is so sleepy. You get her to take her pills. You kiss your child goodnight and tell her you love her.
In the morning, your daughter is dead.

Who would you blame?
The mother? For not having a clean house?
Or the doctor, for not LOOKING at your daughter and seeing how sick she was?

Would you fight?
Would you fight for your dead child even when people told you that you could go to prison for it?

And what if this happened THREE TIMES?

The unfairness of this situation is almost unbearable. I try to tell myself that I did what I could. I didn't really expect to win against the vet. But I had to try. And I had to set a precedent. Perhaps no one else had the courage to say something. Perhaps just by making a formal complaint, I have scared the vet enough that he will make changes.

My dogs are gone. My spirit is badly damaged. I don't know if I will stay in Guatemala or move somewhere else or even go home to Canada. I am still just trying to get thru it one day at a time.

But one thing has brought light into my life. Or rather three things.
Yesterday while walking home from seeing a friend, I found three abandoned kittens on the river road. I did not hesitate. Not for one millisecond. Bert stood back and watched with knowing eyes as I gathered the three tiny balls of fluff into my arms.

This is who I am. I am an animal rescuer. 

Three little kitty babies!