I Took the Money and Ran

...all $31.29 of it. Actually, those funds are still in the @tarc bank account, waiting to be used to pay an outstanding bill. So the title of this post is a lie, but it will be fun to see how many TARC-haters in Appalachia take it literally.

A repeating theme in criticism of TARC and of me personally was that I used donated funds for personal extravagance, like vacations and whatnot. The irony lies in the inversion: I used personal funds to support the rescue, for years. Not the opposite. Even once I started drawing disability payments, more than half of those monthly direct deposits were spent on vet bills and overhead to care for the animals. My entire life savings was depleted over the course of five years, leaving me bankrupt and without many essential provisions for leading a normal life.

Facebook Fools

The idiots on Facebook who accused me of misappropriation might be shocked to learn that I lived for three years without a flushing toilet. I took showers with a garden hose. While they sat all fat and fierce in their homes, mocking me with their thousand-dollar smartphones, I nearly froze to death every winter hauling buckets of waste out to the sewage tank. Yes, the septic system worked just fine...but the toilet wasn’t connected to it and I couldn’t afford the parts to fix it. When I could afford it, just like the lawn care and the indoor plumbing, I couldn’t find a single person or crew who’d show up to do the work.

So I dealt with it. I didn’t dare ask for help publicly because as surely as I did, the same SuperChristian humane society president who ridiculed me for not having a good heating system would once again have something to say about my lack of ability to properly care for the rescue dogs. And yes, this would be the same humane society president who had never set foot on my property to ascertain how the dogs lived, and the same humane society president who would not allow shelter dogs in his own home as fosters. Are we starting to see a pattern here?

What’s In a Name

Keep two things in mind. First, the name “humane society” is not a legal designation for any entity. It is not synonymous with either “shelter” or “rescue.” A humane society or spca has no enforcement ability whatsoever, is not an authority, and is not affiliated in any way with the HSUS (Humane Society of the United States) or the ASPCA. A humane society receives no automatic funding, no delegated power, and no by-rote support whatsoever from either of those national organizations. And, unless a jurisdiction specifically appoints a humane society or spca to represent part of their municipal infrastructure, those organizations have no more authority or expertise than any rescue, or a pet store, or even a legally operating dog breeder operation. “Humane society” is just a name, same as any other name of an incorporated for-profit or non-profit business. It does not mean the owners, directors, members, volunteers, or affiliates have taken any training, received any certification, or have any relevant qualifications to operate as either a receiving or releasing agency in the Commonwealth of Virginia or any other state.

We Don’t Wawnt No Stinkin Dawg Park

Second, the property with no flushing toilet had not been purchased as my primary residence. I had eventually hoped to turn it into an adoption center and public dog park, but the community would not support that project. In the end, I stayed there most of the time because the place wasn’t secure and I feared for the safety of the animals. By this point I understood that Tazewell County--residents and county officials alike--did not want an empowered animal welfare organization that actually held people and lawmakers accountable. They would, however, blindly accept another good ole’ boy political machine that didn’t make anyone feel uncomfortable.

TARC most definitely did not fit that description. I knew we would never succeed in our mission there in Southwest Virginia, so I had to make some tough decisions about which direction I’d take as Director of a nonviable 501c3. We stopped intaking animals a full year before finally shutting down.

So Why Didn’t You Just Quit?

Why did it take us so long to close our doors? Because unlike TARC, other rescues and no-kill shelters have very specific policies about which kind of dog they will accept, and some of the dogs dumped on us did not fit that criteria. We could not shut down until we had placement for every single animal in our care, including the plain brown dogs, the dogs with a bite reflex, the old dogs, the hounds, and the pit mixes.

There are a lot of apparently successful and well-packaged shelters and rescues out there and people donate huge amounts of money to them. However, when you’re thinking of where you might give your money, the question to ask is not how many adoptions they “do” every year. The question to ask is how many feral dogs have they successfully rehabilitated and placed that year. How many pitbulls have they successfully placed that year. How many timid dogs. How many black dogs. How many hounds. How many dog-reactive dogs. How many senior dogs. How many dogs with a disability. How many heartworm-positive dogs have they agreed to treat and intake. Until you’re asking those questions, and then asking, “well, what is happening to those dogs if the rescue I donate to refuses to take them,” then you may well be sending your dollars to cherry-pickers and puppy brokers and consigning thousands of “less-desirable” dogs to death in local kill shelters. These are questions worth asking, and more people need to start asking them.

Back to the Toilet

I’ll write an in-depth article about the no-kill system and how badly it is broken soon. For now, as I sit here in retirement on the shores of the English Channel and contemplate the difference in how Europeans regard their animals versus the way Americans do, I’ll stick to the simple topic of flushing toilets.

I may never get past the memory of hauling buckets of waste through the snow to the septic tank, or of waking to find ice on my bedroom walls. Or how it felt emotionally and physically to live on a budget of $25 a week for groceries I had to buy at Dollar General because I couldn't afford to buy them anywhere else. Or what it felt like when people decided I was the most callous and despicable human on the planet because I wouldn’t rush out to save the litter of puppies they let their dog have because they couldn’t be bothered to have her spayed, when all the while I was trying to figure out how I’d buy a loaf of bread to eat that night with the dandelion greens I harvested from my yard because I was out of money to buy anything else.

Believe me, I would have walked away from that rescue a long time before I did had I found any agencies worth their salt who were willing to accept transfers of the dogs still in our care. At least I didn’t abandon any of those animals who trusted me. I stayed the course, kept my obligations to them. Molly’s Place in Pennsylvania eventually came through for TARC dogs in a big way. I even found sanctuary for the crazy raccoon who, against my wishes, invaded the rescue and caused more damage--to the walls, windows, and my hide--than all of the dogs combined ever did. No, rescue and rehab for raccoons is not legal in Virginia. But I found a rescuer who couldn’t have cared less about Virginia laws and she relocated the temperamental thing out of state. Let it never be said that I won’t do whatever it takes for the welfare of an animal. I am a dying breed.

So How Did I Pay for Retirement in Europe, Then?

I am not obligated to tell anyone that. The only thing I am legally compelled to make public are the nonprofit’s financial statements, and if you like adding goose eggs, you’re welcome to have a go at those. TARC never operated in the black. It stayed afloat only because of the cash infusions I provided as often as I could out of my disability disbursements. But I will say this: every compensation is not measurable in dollar signs. I had invested a great deal of time and effort over the years in a blockchain community and publishing company that is beginning to get its head above the water. No. I do not draw a salary. But I am here in Europe because of my contributions to that network of organizations, and because I can live more cheaply here. One thing, however, is certain. I have a flushing toilet. A refrigerator full of healthy food. Heat. Carpeted floors. A view of the sea. My beloved doggos. To everyone who wished Karma on me--thank you soooo much. She definitely came through.