The Hardest Part is Not Knowing

It's been a terrible year pet-wise.  Okay, I admit we had a few too many. We used to run the county shelter and just had to save those in danger when the new management took over.

We moved to our new home with six dogs. A year later, Domino left us. She was a beautiful Border Collie/Australian Shepherd who had come to the shelter as a puppy. My county animal cruelty investigator ex never let her have too much fun. She was always told to lay down - no toys for her. After a while he started ignoring her and knocked some of her teeth out when she tried to get his attention. She became close to William and she followed me everywhere. As she got older, she became skin and bones and could barely move but the now-ex told me if I took her in to have her  put down then he would let everyone know I killed his dog. The day she died, I came home and found her laying in the flower bed. I carried her in and laid her on a mat in front of the dryer. The ex, at the time, was pretending to be disabled, so he sat in the doorway and cried crocodile tears while William screamed to her not to go. With his Asperger's Syndrome he doesn't understand why people and pets we love have to die - do any of us really? After three hours of trying to keep Will from laying on top of Domino and not to scream in her ear. William suddenly told Domino "Jesus is here. He told me it's time for you to go with him. Go now, Domino. I love you." She looked at him, let out a long sigh...and was gone.

Almost two years ago, Scout joined us. He was a housebroken but other-wise untrained pain in the rear Greyhound/Jack Russell. Over time he has become the best dog. Still, we tried to re-home him because we had too many dogs. I kept telling the kids if we didn't have so many dogs, we could keep him. I advertised him, but no one wanted him. If only there weren't so many dogs...

Suddenly, we dropped from six dogs to two in just a few months.

Zoe was the first in this string of dog loss. I can honestly say she is in a better place. Zoe is a nine year old Chihuahua who came to our animal shelter when she was around two years old after being taken from her abusive home. She was adopted out but was abused by those people too, we got her back and she became William's little buddy.  The ex would hit her in the face until she lost some teeth. After I threw the ex out, my Pomeranian would bite poor Zoe.  When India's boyfriend decided he wanted Zoe, I was happy to give her a good home. After all, we had too many dogs to give her attention anyway. Now Zoe lives across the state, has another chihuahua friend to play with and is devoted to Cody's disabled Dad. We miss her, but she needs to stay where she is happy.

Next was my precious Timothy. He was my little boy, my constant companion. This little Maltese/Poodle/Westie came into our lives as a six-week old puppy as a gift for my oldest daughter and was a Mommy's boy until his much-too-early death in August. Like me, he was an abuse survivor. Having been thrown around by my children's father and later kicked repeatedly in the face by the same ex who hurt Zoe and Domino.  He relied on me for his very life. He wouldn't eat if I was gone. He barked until I reappeared - sometimes going hoarse. In his last year he began to accept India as a substitute if he couldn't get to me. Timothy went blind early and I spent the next six years of his life talking constantly so he could find me. I believe the abuse led to his early death, and his last few months were a rapid downhill slide. No one was surprised when he laid down next to me and went into a permanent sleep.

Soon after Timothy, we lost Cassidy. She was our Pekingese. She was found deep in the woods one January day and was a temperamental and silly girl. We don't know how old she was but she came to us looking "up there in age". Like the other dogs, my ex had kicked several of her teeth out, so eating was difficult but she could do it. She only let me groom her - biting two groomers and an assistant. Even my grooming her depended on her mood. She gave kisses. Rough-housed with us and loved to be cuddled. When we first got Cassie she hated being picked up but as the years went by she would jump into our arms. Her one big flaw was that she loved to bolt out the door as soon as it was opened and run to the neighbour's house one-quarter of a mile away. That fateful morning, she only made it half-way from one of our driveway entrances to the other. As Matthew stepped out to get her he saw the truck and heard the thud. When I went to her, a truck was pulling in. I'm afraid I was abrupt with the man as I ran to Cass. But it was too late. She was gone. I carried her to a spot next to Timothy. Just outside my bedroom window. Andrew dug a hole for her, and there she sleeps.

But now my Belle. We found Belle in the woods across from our house not long after Timothy joined our family. She was about two years old and seemed to enjoy making us try to catch her. When the kids and I went on to the animal shelter, Belle was stuck in the back of the building because the animal kicker didn't like her. After a few years I was finally able to bring her into the house, just as we were getting ready to move. After coming to our current home, he was tossed out and the dogs could live in peace. Belle kept her love of escaping and wandering but always returned home. We have been watching her carefully this winter. Her arthritis has gotten really bad in her rear leg where she is missing a toe. Her hearing went and her eyesight was getting worse. Years of being hit in the head by the dog kicker had made her confused. She sometimes stared at us like she wasn't sure who we were. I worried she wouldn't make it through winter and told the kids we would have to put her down in the spring.  William loved her. He just wanted her to stay with him forever.

Then the night came when the mudroom door wasn't tightly closed. The dog chain was shut in the door so it blocked the door from latching, although it seemed like it was. I had let Scout into the mudroom in the morning so I could let him outside when the kids got on the bus - without him running out with them. After I walked back into the living room, William reappeared at the door and let Scout in. I remembered that I had noticed the mudroom was really cold but in my haste didn't check why. When I went out there. Sugar, the Pomeranian, was sleeping on Belle's bed next to the washing machine, but the door was open to the outdoors. This had happened two days earlier and both girls were standing in the mudroom when I went to close the door. This time Belle was nowhere to be seen.

I wandered around the fields surrounding our property. I checked our barn. I stood on the top of our Hogs-back hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I went to the neighbour's pond, just in case... I've put ads up, contacted the local lost pet Facebook page. I can't call for her. Her world is silent. 

It snowed last night. A big storm skirted over us but dumped a few inches of snow and freezing rain on us, on her? Did it cover her? Belle's leg doesn't like cold. It gives out after a few minutes. 

Sugar and Scout keep trying to run outside after I unhook them when they are pottied, I think they want to look for her. Scout lays on William's bed and barks out the window. Is she outside? Did someone find her? Is she safe inside someone's home?

If I only knew, then I could stop worrying.

I miss her.

Waiting To Breathe

Not only is October Breast Cancer Awareness Month (I hope to get to Erie on Saturday to sign up for the study - you should sign up too) but it also is a month more near and dear to my own heart.  October is also Domestic Violence Awareness Month.  

This month is very meaningful to me since I made several mistakes in my life that lead me to the trap of domestic violence.  A trap that, to this day, I can't seem to escape. Those that know me, know I have been married three times.  Each marriage involved some form of domestic abuse.  

My first marriage was to my on-again off-again high school sweetheart. We had met when I was twelve and he was all I ever wanted so I was ready to be part of his life when he decided to settle down.  Unfortunately, that didn't mean faithfulness on his part.  He was the mildest with his "abuse". So much so that I didn't even realize it was happening until his Mom told me. She was a volunteer for the local domestic violence agency and spotted his tactic of minimizing, denying and blaming, or "Gaslighting" as she called it (from the Ingrid Bergman movie of that name).  We were married for seven years until he moved in with his girlfriend and never looked back. He left me to raise our almost four year old son while he helped raise her children from previous relationships as his own. 

His Mom and sister helped me escape the girlfriend's threats against my son and I moved back to our hometown with the contents of four suitcases, he got everything else.  I had to begin again with no college degree (he always seemed amused by my major switching through two years of college). It was a long drop from wife of an Air Force Captain to struggling to survive. 

Then to husband number two.  This is when the abuse ran the full gamut of the chart.  My childhood friend fixed me up with her brother-in-law (later to tell me she thought I could fix him).  I planned to date him for a while just to rebuild my self-esteem. I didn't want to be in a long-term relationship so soon. Soon after we began dating, the abuse began. It started with my four year old son. When I would protect him I would be punished. I was told exactly how I would be killed if I left. This continued for years. My son and I were abused, I had bones broken, I gave birth to an extremely early son after a session of abuse. I gave birth to five children in six years as I was being kept barefoot and pregnant, literally. Even though I was giving him babies whenever he wanted, he still had two other children during this time as well as countless affairs. My family and friends disappeared and even turned on me as he lied to them about me. I was forced to give him my child support check, even the money from the sale of my childhood home. All while not being given enough money to keep the bills paid. We lived as paupers despite his good paying job.  I was not someone worth listening to or even deserving of being alive. When he finally let me drive, my cars had tires burst, engines catch fire, and brake lines cut - he was a mechanic.  It took me seven years before I became strong enough to begin planning my escape and another two years to get out. 

I ran to an older family friend. Someone I had known my entire life. Soon after he let the children and I move into his home, his intentions became clear. I was to be a volunteer doing the office work and many other jobs in the county animal shelter that he had built behind our home while my kids were to help keep the shelter clean. Although we lived together he was in no way tied to me.  I lived there while he continued his womanizing.  As the lies continued from him, I lost my position as president and secretary of the PTOs in school. I was still able to volunteer for Girl Scouts and youth soccer but even Boy Scouts booted me out after 10 years of involvement. People in my own church looked down on me.  I couldn't get a paying job because he was my reference. I was afraid to go into town out of fear of being insulted by strangers. I put my foot down and told the kids that school and extra-curricular activities came first before working in the shelter.  Soon afterward my children's father began calling CPS on me, repeatedly. Then he took me to court for custody of my kids. His attorney was the former attorney of my live-in's ex-wife.  After lasting for months, he decided to settle on the day of the trial.  

By then I had no one. I was alone in my small rural county with just my kids while living with a man who wanted nothing to do with me except as a worker. Our Board didn't like the look of us living under the same roof so I agreed to marry him so he could keep his job. I had no where else to go. When he lost his job anyway because of his womanizing interfering with his job, he had to sell his house on Humane Society property to the shelter. 

I decided we would move somewhere that my son with Asperger's Syndrome could get an education. Number three became ill and was hospitalized for months while I worked and ran the household. He blamed me for the loss of his job, for his illness, for making him leave our former county.  He told me he hated me and "wouldn't stop until he saw me childless and alone living on the streets of Erie".  He moved to a retirement home, cut me off financially and we lost contact. 

I fell in love. 

Number three wrote my Sweetheart a letter telling him how terrible I am and making demands of me. I didn't respond by his deadline. The day of the deadline CPS and the police began visiting. The children's father went after me again for custody of our teens and tween.  His attorney was the same one as before and my attorney felt he was being paid for by number three.  I learned from CPS why our oldest daughter hadn't spoken to him in seven years.  The police kept coming over to check on the kids. The battle dragged on.  

Number one resurfaced and began writing letters to my Sweetheart, to the local District Attorney, to the local police. Telling them I was crazy, I shouldn't be allowed to be near the children he never met, yet he still wanted no contact with our now-adult son. He kept writing my Sweetheart telling him to dump me. Spreading more lies. 

Number three's adult daughter sent me an email telling me to leave her father alone. 

Number three sued me in Pennsylvania, where you don't get an attorney if you can't afford one. He told the kids' father he wants to have me arrested.

I was asked why they all would be connected.  I do know that number two was always in contact with the wife of number one during our marriage and that she had also contacted number three over the years.  She is heavily involved with "helping" those who are abused, while number three was our county cruelty investigator who worked alongside the local domestic violence agency (which gave him access to the vulnerable women he preyed upon) until I told them of his physical assault of me.  It looked to many people as if the three of them had an assigned "job" in number three's threat against me.

None of them want me happy.

I went to court for trial on Tuesday. After a year and a half of our lives were wasted, number two decided to settle in the custody battle.

The children have all gotten older since the battle began.  Our oldest is six hours away in college, our son with Asperger's is almost eighteen, our cheerleader is almost seventeen and refuses to speak to her father.  That leaves the youngest boys (fifteen, next month and twelve).  The end settlement was only about them.

Many years ago, during the first custody battle, I was sitting in the courtroom and noticed the artwork from local students on the wall.  They would hang the winners' artwork there after the pieces were returned from judging at Potsdam University.  While listening to the lawyers argue I looked around. On the wall three feet away from me, at eye level, was this piece of artwork.  It belonged to India - my daughter. She had earned a blue ribbon in crayon. She was in sixth grade.  When I saw it I looked at the judge and he was smiling at me. I had known him for years, I often wondered if he placed it there. Throughout the months that I was in his courtroom I would look at the artwork for strength.

When the second battle began, I pulled her portfolio out of the back of my closet and hung this piece on my bedroom wall so that I could once again look at it for strength ... it's still there.

I was told by my attorney to keep my mouth shut on what was going on but now that it's over, I can finally speak out.

Hopefully those men will leave me alone now.  Hopefully they will let me live my life in peace.

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It's quiet right now.

I'm waiting for the next shoe to drop.