I COULD NEVER DO WHAT SHE DOES

Could you?

“I could never do what you do,” replied Laura as she concentrated on the phone in my hand and the scrolling display of the object of my affection. “I would fall too hard in love.”

Laura was responding to my story about our foster dog, Aristotle, the pocket-sized, shepherd-like pup. I knew what Laura was really thinking. It wasn’t the love that frightened her. It was the letting go.

“To win at fostering is bittersweet,” I responded. “On one hand is the worry that your intuition is wrong and that you’ll grieve from letting go.” I continued to flip through photos of the spry puppy sprinting through the snow. “On the other hand, it’s a remarkable feeling to play matchmaker, to find the right adopter. I like that when we foster, we save lives.”

I’ve told that story many times to curious friends and onlookers. I repeat that story to myself because fostering at times can be hard. Letting go can be hard. I’ve learned that my short-term discomfort is a small price to pay to be one cog in a wheel that moves animals away from suffering. Cara Sue Achterberg, on the other hand, is the machine. When I look at her I think, I could never do what she does.

I met Cara through the Dogs & Books Facebook page she started with another bestselling author, Teresa McElhannon Rhyne. Cara is an award-winning novelist who got curious. She’d been fostering a host of momma dogs and puppies when she decided to see why the supply of unwanted, unhoused dogs was not stopping. She got in her car with photographer friend, Nancy Slattery, to tour municipal shelters and animal impounds across the rural south. They ’d visit places steeped in generational poverty, where people held strongly to the belief that animals were property to do as one pleases, and where the attitude that “my business is none of your business” prevailed.

She’d visit impounds and shelters with nose-curling stench, pools of fetid mud, mosquitoes, ticks, and sick and wounded animals. Unclaimed animals at the end of stray holds were euthanized by a veterinarian, if lucky. Killed by bullet, if not. Cara and Nancy would have to turn their backs, knowing they did not have the resources, yet, to help.

I used to wonder how Cara slept at night. I dream in Technicolor with Dolby surround. I’d never sleep if I did what Cara does. I don’t know if Cara sleeps, but I do know she spends evenings and mornings during those exhausting tours, and many hours after, using her voice for the voiceless. Nancy’s photos have captured Cara typing in a hotel room, in the basement of a friend’s home, in the car. There are photos of her scrutinizing the scribbles from her note book to ensure she presents a truthful story. She produces blogs. She vlogs. She pitches article and interview ideas. She sits for interviews and podcasts. She writes for publications.

Cara balances the bad with the good. She illuminates the people working hard to reduce suffering; the impound manager who pays for pet food out of her own pocket because her community only provides funding to euthanize animals, the municipal shelter manager who networks with rescues to move pets out of impound rather than euthanize them, the rescues who take in animals at the end of their stray holds so they aren’t euthanized, the veterinarians and leaders managing non-profit shelters, awareness campaigns, and volunteer corps in an effort to save as many animals as possible.

Cara published a book, One Hundred Dogs and Counting, to help people understand what is happening in their communities and with their tax dollars. Many don’t know there is an animal impound or municipal shelter by the town dump, near the shooting range, in the flood plain. Cara tells these stories to help people understand what needs addressing while illuminating every bit of goodness; people need some light to see their way out of the darkness.

Knowing that only readers would find her writing, Cara has since cast a wider net. She started a crowd-sourcing campaign, raised more money than her goal, hired Farnival Films, and created the Emmy-nominated documentary, Amber’s Halfway Home, that has been viewed at film festivals across the country since 2021. She and Nancy founded the non-profit, Who Will Let the Dog’s Out, to have one platform from which to help homeless dogs and the people who fight for them.

Cara is deeply aware that she has become the voice, with a big V, synthesizing the lessons she learns from shelter tour after shelter tour in order to raise awareness. She and Nancy have toured over 130 places in the south as of this writing. Cara firmly believes that it’s not that people don’t care, it’s that they don’t know. When people become informed, they begin to rally for the good of their communities and the animals in their care.

Cara’s machine has my attention. Its making me rethink my own role in animal welfare and what else I could be doing. I don’t live in the rural south, but I do know those same cultural challenges and economic struggles exist in communities near me. Perhaps it’s time for me to stop saying I could never do what she does to step into more of what needs to get done. Want to join me?

“Volunteer with Who Will Let the Dogs Out”

(The following is from the WWLDO website. Most of what they need can be done remotely!)

If you’d like to join our Who Will Let the Dogs Out team, we’d love to have your help! Currently, we are looking for:

Social media and website design geniuses to help us build our social media platform.

Clever people who can design swag and run our online shop to raise money.

Fundraising and development inclined souls who want to help us have a bigger impact

Shelter/rescue liaisons to help us stay in touch with the organizations we support.

Smart people who can assist with bookkeeping/tax preparation.

Writers who can help tell the story - especially important for fundraising and development (I added that part because awareness leads to change)

Before you go, here are a few posts that other readers have enjoyed.

A Love Story for the World’s Best Dog

22,000 Acts of Lovingkindness

Is Anna a Bad Banana