I Am The Silent Advocate (Tom M. from Texas)

There are about sixteen of us between Texas and Georgia.

We see you ourselves or we hear about you from others. It doesn’t matter how we find out about you; what matters is that we do.

Of course, first we do all the “right” things: we make calls on your behalf, we report the abuse and neglect happening to you, we take your picture – always more than one over a series of days, and we try to talk with your owner.

We network for drive-bys so that we can keep an eye on you, if your situation can have us wait a few days or weeks.

But many times, especially in the Southern states – those things don’t make a difference.

So WE make the difference.

It doesn’t matter if it’s wet, cold or windy.  We will come, and we do.

We usually come at night. When your owners are inside, sleeping comfy and tight, and you are still outside, as you are every day regardless of weather or bugs or filth.

Most times it’s easy. We see you. You see us. You are just happy for the sound of a kind voice, a gentle touch, a comfortable spot to lie your head that isn’t cold, or lumpy or covered with fleas.

And most times it’s just a quick snip of that too-tight collar, or worn rusty chain.

Sometimes it’s harder. We understand that your cramped, barren, dirty mound that you call your home is all you know. It’s okay to want to protect that place, the only place you have ever known. So sometimes it takes us a few night-time visits to get you used to us, so that you want to come with us.

And you always do.

As silently as we come, we go. Only when we go, you now have hope. 

You always go to a new home. Sometimes it takes a while, because you need time to adjust to kindness. Not all humans hit or forget to feed you or keep you chained up in the same place every day – you can take all the time you need to adjust to that.

It doesn’t stop there.  We will do drive-bys of your old home to see if you have been replaced. Sometimes you are, and sometimes, they are probably relieved that they don’t have to come outside every once and a while to check to see if you’re still there.  We watch, and wait to see if we are needed again. 

And we are.  We are always needed. And we’re happy to do it.

Here’s to giving hope to the hopeless.

– Tom M. (Texas)