sucks to be me

i think the most difficult thing about being carol hine, is being carol hine. i have a whole crap load of short comings...someday i will list them.

but i am also a very good nurse, and a very good person, and a very good rescuer and there in lies the issue. you put the three of those things together and you get a pretty amazing person who can accomplish alot of amazing things, with alot of amazing help along the way. but i am the foundation of saints, it is upon me that the animals safely rest. everyone else in the world can come and go but i am the constant that stays. maybe in a few years this will change as our volunteer and financial base grows...maybe not. whatever the future holds, for now this is the reality of what is.

and because of this, it is hard being me.

imagine if you will:

80 animals depending on your strength, your committment, your determination to do right, to make sound choices and to provide a valuable quality of life, imagine your personal financial value, your paycheque, credit rating and willingness to go into debt forever. (this is actually not true, when i die, i will be debt free cuz i took out life insurence on all the loans)

imagine feeding, medicating and caring for the health and wellbeing of 80 sick and senior animals. imagine dealing with their personalities, their idiosyncrasies, their unique and individual needs. imagine caring for their environments, and paying their vet bills, and feed bills, and grooming and ferriers, and special diets and suppliments and treatments. imagine knowing who is sick or stressed or unhappy and what is wrong and doing what needs to be done to make it better. imagine holding countless beloved friends in your arms and making the decision when to end their lives. (this is the easier stuff)

now imagine turning animals away, several a week. imagine listening to the stories, seeing thier pictures and feeling the pain, and the anger, and the sadness and knowing that the alternatives are not great. (this is a bit harder)

and finally imagine that every thought, every action, inaction, every word, every decision is an open book for speculation, discussion and judgement. imagine having to wait to bath or put on your pajamas til after dark when you know that probably no one else will come. imagine feeing guilty because you grabbed a 20 minute afternoon power nap on the couch with tom, sweetpea, and chicklet, or you slept in til 8 am on your day off from work and you got caught. imagine dealing with all the different personalities, and issues, and likes and dislikes, and wants and needs of everyone who comes here, supports here, likes here, doesn't like here, likes me, doesn't like me, is happy with me or is mad at me. and imagine that all of this happens inside your home. this haven that you created to care for wrecked animals and where you happen to live too. (this is the killer stuff)

and for your last stretch of imagination, imagine that you are a 49 yr old female, who is flawed and human just like you.

this is why it sometimes sucks to be me.