Unfortunately I can't choose the ads shown on this page. There's something about breeders being able to sell their pets for free - not the kind of ad I would choose, but oh well. I started volunteering at the SPCA in the summer of 2000. My sister had been working there for several years already, and it sounded like fun, so I decided to go. Normally people don't get to go into the building until they've been there for a few days. The dogs don't stay in kennels all day, and when we're there from 9 to 4, the dogs get to stay out and run around together. They have a big yard to run in, and they can come into the building whenever they want. It's no-kill, so no one gets put to sleep after a certain period of time. The only time an animal is euthanized is when they are too sick to be helped or they are vicious. There are some dogs that don't do good around strangers, so they have to get used to new workers slowly. I was allowed to go into the building on my first day. I can't imagine what the workers thought, this 13 year old kid who didn't talk was trying to work at the SPCA. I didn't talk to anyone but my sister for some time. After a while I could answer the phone, but if it was for someone else I didn't know how to tell them. Sometimes I just left it lying there because I was too terrified to tell them. But no one ever said anything. No one ever asked me why I didn't talk, they didn't even give me funny looks. I absolutely loved it at the SPCA from the moment I started. I wanted to spend all my time there. I was originally only going on the weekends, and then I started going every day my sister worked, Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Soon I was going 7 days a week. The first time I told my mom I wanted to go in on a day my sister wasn't there, she was obviously surprised. For me, I was never comfortable about doing anything by myself. So to go somewhere without anyone to fall back on if I needed help, that was a big step. During school, I went to the SPCA every weekend. The next summer, I was there 7 days a week the entire summer. Every break from school, a snow day, Christmas break, whatever, I was at the SPCA. Other 14 year olds were sleeping in late, I was cleaning up dog poo. And I took the job seriously. I didn't have anyone to talk to because I didn't talk, so I had to spend my time doing work. About twice a year everyone gets together and goes out to dinner. I remember the first time I went out with everyone. I still couldn't talk in front of them. When it came time to order, my sister had to order for me because all I could do was point at the menu. There were a few funny looks, but nothing I wasn't used to. Over time, I became more comfortable with everyone at the SPCA. I knew I couldn't go on not talking, so I had to force myself to get over it. When someone called for my boss one day and I answered the phone, I knew I was going to have to tell her. She was out with a customer, so I went outside and stood there until she noticed me. All I could say was "Phone". Luckily she is one of the nicest people I have ever met, and she never made a big deal of it when I did stuff like this. Eventually I was able to talk to other workers, and to help customers. I remember the first person who started working there after I did. I knew I didn't want to go through the whole thing again, so I just talked to her the first day I met her. But I also really liked her, she seemed nice and the kind of person who would be fun to be around. After that, anytime someone new started I just talked to them like normal, as I had become much better about it with everyone else. I was talking like a normal person within 2 years or so. I used to ask my mom why it was so different at school. I tried telling her that if people at school would be more like the people at the SPCA school would be so much better. I tried telling her that if people just left me alone like at the SPCA I would do a lot better. She didn't seem to believe me or something. But I truly believe that if people at school had just left me alone and not said anything about me talking, I might have eventually worked my way up to talking to them. I have seen such a radical change in myself over the past 5 years. I have to wonder what it looks like to the people who knew me when I started, do they see the difference too? They have to, I don't know how you could miss it. The last time a few of us got together to discuss ways to make the SPCA better, I was surprising myself with what I was saying. I would never have actively joined in the conversation like that before, but this time I was bringing up things I had thought about, risking being laughed at about things that I wouldn't have mentioned in the company of anyone else. I was beyond comfortable with these people. I used to think years ago that I had no friends, because the people at the SPCA that I got along with were all so much older than me, I didn't have anyone my age that I could talk to or hang out with. It wasn't for a few years that I would realize that the friends I have there are more important to me than anyone else I've ever met. Last October, I was feeling horrible about being away at college. One of our newest workers had died, he had only been with us for a few weeks, but everyone loved him. He looked at our website every night to learn more about the dogs, and he was one of the few men that the dogs accepted right away. Usually several of the dogs are afraid of men, but he fit right in. He was perfect for the job, and he obviously loved it. He had a heart attack one night, and I can still remember the day we found out. His sister called the SPCA and told me that he had died, but she was calling him something different than how we knew him, so I didn't know who she was talking about. My boss took the phone, but someone else had already mentioned that the last names were the same, and you could tell everyone already knew. The funeral was on a Wednesday, the same day we had been planning to go out to dinner. My mom called me the night before, and I told her how much I wanted to come home and I wanted to be able to be there. She picked me up the next day, and I was able to go to the funeral. It was the saddest thing ever. It was held in the same place as my father's, but the worst part was seeing the SPCA shirt he had just received lying next to him. His sister told us that he knew he had a bad heart but couldn't afford to do anything about it, but the doctors had given him 2 years less to live than he had. His wife said the job was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he had never been happier. As far as I'm concerned, that's the best way to die, quickly and happy. He probably felt the same way about the SPCA as I did. That night we still went out to dinner, and not only did I order for myself, I was as much a part of the conversation as anyone else. My sociology teacher in my first semester of college said something I'll never forget, "The perfect job is one that you would do for free but someone is dumb enough to pay you for it." I would never call my boss dumb, but I would gladly do the job for free. I wasn't paid for the first maybe 2 years that I worked there, even when I was there 7 days a week. Sometimes my boss would give me money for getting all the wash done or something, because she can't stand to see someone not get paid for the work they do. She made me fill out my working papers so I could be paid even though I was too young. But even now, I don't want to be paid for working there. She's always telling me to write my extra hours down on the hour sheet so I get paid, if I go up at night to do extra work or if I'm there an extra day during the week. I never do, because I'm not doing it for the money. I'm there because I love it there. Getting paid for weekends is good enough for me. During the summers, and more now that I'll be going home for school, I get paid for 5 days a week, but often I'll put some money in the donation banks that we have in businesses and stores, or buy something for the SPCA. As far as I'm concerned, the SPCA needs it more than I do. We run on donations, we don't get money from the state or the county to keep running. I believe I was always meant to work at the SPCA. Some people's first memory is of their parents or their house. Mine is going to the SPCA to get our first dog when I was maybe 3 years old. I remember going to the SPCA with my mom and dad and sister when one of the washers was broken, and my dad was going to fix it. I was probably about 8 or 9 at the time. I always laugh about that now, because I could not eat my chicken fingers out in the car until we got home so I could wash my hands. Now not only would I not eat chicken fingers, but I go outside after working for several hours and eat lunch without giving it another thought. The SPCA has always been prominent in my life. The only person I remember at my father's funeral besides my family is my boss from the SPCA. I think it's funny because I tried to hide behind my mom when she tried to talk to me. I never imagined that not only would I someday be working with her, I would be talking to her like I've known her my whole life. But then again, I have. She was there when we got our first dog, and I've always seen her when we visited the SPCA for my sister. By now you've probably realized that the SPCA has been one of the most important things in my life. It is the main reason I'm transferring closer to home next year. There are 3 reasons in particular that I'm going home next year. One is Lucy, a Husky mix, who came to the SPCA in September 2003. She was incredibly skinny, and nervous about everything. For some reason she eventually attached herself to me and would follow me everywhere I went. We had 2 different dog buildings at the time, and I would leave her in one while I went to clean up the other one. Often I would come out and see her standing in the yard watching for me. As soon as she saw me her ears would go up and she would start wagging her tail. As I got closer she would run to the door to greet me. I couldn't stand to leave her behind anymore, so I took her with me everywhere I went. I realized that she wasn't going anywhere without me, so I dropped the leash. She didn't even seem to notice. This isn't too unusual considering that every day about 60 dogs get to go on a walk up the mountain offleash. But she was my first offleash, unadoptable dog. She was so scared of strangers, and no one wanted her. I used to try to give her to people to walk, and she would be so excited at the idea of going for a walk until the second her leash left my hand. At that point her face would change and she would struggle back toward the door. She couldn't stand to be away from the building without me. So she was 'mine'. Now, about 50 pounds heavier than when she came in starved and bald from mange, she's still mine. I call her LuCow and MooCille because she's so fat now, probably due to the hot dogs the dogs get at the end of every day. I'm told she does nothing but lie around and sleep when I'm not there. 
They tried taking her on the walk before I left for college. This is the walk where allthe dogs go offleash. She was fine with me, but they had to drag her up for weeks every day that I wasn't there. She's gotten much better about going, but she's still not the same dog as when I'm there. Then there's Blackie. She appears to be a Cocker Spaniel/Border Collie, who we actually took on a cruelty several years ago. She was adopted, but came back in November 2004. On her first day back, she just kept running around the room screaming. When I say screaming, it's a sound you have to hear to believe. It's indescribable. I've been told to record it for a horror movie. It's halfway between human speech and a fire siren. She was so upset about being back that she wouldn't stop making that noise when I went into the room she was in. She kept biting my hands, not to hurt me, but more out of desperation. She wanted to get out of there. I couldn't calm her down, so I left before she got overworked. It was too late - she had already attached herself to me. I barely knew her when she was there originally, but now she was following me like she had known me her whole life. Now every time she sees me after I've been gone for even a few minutes, she makes the sound, but now it's her 'happy sound' rather than a desparate cry for help. People have often told me they didn't need to look to see who just got there, they could tell by Blackie's screaming. She doesn't do it for anyone else. She still bites my hands now, but it's her way of playing and showing affection. I don't know what it'll be like when I have my own house and I take them home. If I sit down with my face within Blackie's reach she kisses me and then gets too excited and bites me in the face, every time. I won't be able to sit down at home I guess. She was offleash within a very short time too. I call her 'Mother's Little Psycho' or just 'Mother's' for short, because of the noises she makes and the way she acts. She does respond to 'Psycho'. She's unadoptable because she bites men.  The day she came back 
Most recently, there's Blackie-boy. He was a stray, apparently an outside dog by the looks of him when he first came in. He was dirty, smelly, and skinny. He's the only one who I can't see why he wasn't adopted. He's the perfect dog, he's calm but likes toys, he's affectionate, he is perfect offleash, he's just the perfect dog. But he's at least 8 years old, and a Shepherd mix, so no one wants him. He's been at the SPCA for so long, and I can't understand it. He's there at least a year now. He was an 'accidental' favorite of mine. I always took him on a leash on the walk because I had to take someone when I went with Lucy and Blackie, and I noticed that he never attempted to pull on the leash. He had perfect manners, and I mentioned once that I didn't think he even needed a leash. He's been off since. He wasn't 'mine' at that point, but he was such a sweetheart and no one paid much attention to him, so I felt bad for him. I knew he needed someone, so I started giving him extra attention. He's the only favorite that I ever picked. Usually they attach themselves to you, but I had to make Blackie attach himself to me. It wasn't hard, and now he follows me everywhere I go. I can't walk to the other side of a room without 3 dogs jumping up to follow me. I call him 'Son' because when I yell for one Blackie, the other one comes. There was one time just recently on the walk where I couldn't see Blackie-girl so I called her a couple times. Suddenly someone jumped up on me, and I looked down to see Blackie-boy hugging me. I hadn't even thought of him when I was calling Blackie. I had to give him an extra hug then, and he buried his head in my stomach. He's such a sweetheart, I can't imagine why no one would want him. 
This is what I see every time I look around - sad faces looking at me for attention Hopefully everyone can understand why I want to go home for school next year. I miss my dogs, and I know they miss me. I can't stand the idea of not being there for them. I know that every day, as my boss picks my sister and me up in the morning, Lucy stands there staring at the door I always get out of, waiting for it to open. Once the truck stops, she freezes, just staring at the door so intently you expect her to open it herself with her mind. It tears me apart every time I see it. How long is she standing there like that when no one gets out of that door? How does she feel when she finally stops and goes to her spot behind the counter to sleep another day away, knowing that someday Mom will be back? I can't do that to her anymore. I know some people think that dogs don't have feelings and they don't think like this, but I've seen the look dogs get when their owner closes the kennel door and walks away, leaving them behind forever. Suddenly they stop trying to run out and just stand there, looking up at their owner with a look I can't even describe. It's like they've suddenly realized what's going on. I'm not the only one who's seen this look. Other people have mentioned it too. I know I've seen Lucy's reaction when that door finally does open. She changes completely, her face changes, suddenly she starts jumping up and down and barking, and then she runs to the door. Every Sunday, I took a stuffed animal for each of my dogs. I wanted them to have something to play with and to comfort them while I wasn't there. They all love toys, so I knew they would appreciate this. My mom always made sure I had a little bag of meat ends or something to give them at the end of the day too. I would take a few minutes at the end of every Sunday and give them hugs and then give them the meat and toys. Lucy wouldn't usually take the toy right away, so I thought maybe she wouldn't play with them. I was so happy I had my camera that day. I walked out to the truck to leave for the week, but I always stop by the fence when it's warm enough to leave the door open so the dogs in the main room can go outside. I usually say goodbye again and pet them for a second before leaving, but this time I turned around and saw this: 
She was just standing there like that, watching me go. I cry just thinking about it. I can't leave them for a week at a time anymore. Unfortunately I don't have the 'family portraits' scanned in yet, as I only finally managed to get a few very recently, but maybe if you watch my dogs' DogSter pages, you will someday see a link to my photo pages. Since 2001 I've been taking pictures of all the dogs at the SPCA, and my collection has grown to several thousand pictures. I'm trying to scan them all in, but it obviously takes a while. I have about 3 photo boxes of pictures done, which is about 2000 pictures, and I have about 6 more boxes to do yet. Hopefully by the end of the summer I'll have my photo pages done and a link on Dogster, so watch out for that. For right now, the closest thing I have to a family picture:  I was so glad I had my camera with me when I was doing the dishes and turned around to see this lying on the floor.  They didn't like each other much at first, but they knew if they were both going to follow Mom they had to start liking each other! It's pictures like this that I carry my camera in my pocket for. The Dogster pages: Lucy Blackie Blackie-boy So for all those people who think I'm just going to a closer school because I don't like LVC, have I changed your mind? | Main page | What is Selective Mutism? | My life | What music did | Links | 
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