Just a short while ago, I learned another volunteer at Legacy Boxer Rescue was in the hospital with a possible stroke. His wife was with him and they were worried about their dogs.
The organization sprung into action. Several volunteers took care of things. One foster dog is getting adopted Sunday and someone is not only holding that dog until then, but another person is taking him to the adoption and getting all the paperwork filled out.
He was an organizer of a rescue event in Dallas tomorrow and a lot of people were helping. They are collecting to try and figure out what else they need to do to assume his spot.
Messages of hope flooded his Facebook page. I was floored by the caring and support. At first. And then I remembered. These are no ordinary people. They are rescuers.
These are the people that will take in and save a dog so horrifically damaged that it hurts the eyes and heart to look at him. These are the people who will work tirelessly to save every dumped and abandoned dog they can, who will nurture an abused animal, teach him or her love, and then break their own heart finding that same dog a forever home.
And then turn around and do it over again.
These are the people who volunteer their own time and money to interview applicants, evaluate shelter dogs, transport shelter dogs, deal with people who want to dump a dog who should have been part of their family forever, and work tirelessly to save as many as they can. And weep when they lose one, which invariably happens, as there never are enough foster homes.
And I just learned that someone stepped up to foster that girl with kidney disease who needs access to water and someone who's home all day. She's been weighing on my heart, as that reminds me of my Katniss. My heart is full now. Of thanks.
I love my Legacy family. I'm proud of the work we do and honored to be part of it.