Upset, frustrated, and with my heart bursting from my chest, I put Caesar in my car Sunday evening and said, āIām sorry, buddy. I love you so much.ā I hugged him and told him we were going on a walk to clear our heads.
I had just read a letter about how Carl, a dog Iāve been fighting for justice for, would likely see no justice due to a broke system. You see, animal cruelty is a felony five in Ohio and can warrant up to one year in prison, but because of some grant money that local jails receive from the state for ānon-violentā offenders, Carlās abuser wasnāt going to see much time at all and he certainly wasnāt going to be going to prison. Actually, while the prosecutor said that he would fight his hardest to see the abuser get 180 days in county jail, it was likely that Carl’s abuser would only serve 35 days and be let out at his next trail.
With my head held low, I watched as Caesar waddled in front of me. His ears pointed up and his tongue hang out of his mouth. He had no idea why I was feeling so sad or why I felt the need to apologize to him, but again, I did.
āIām sorry that if someone tried to kill you, there would be no justice for you. Iām sorry that beating you nearly to death wouldnāt be considered violent. Iām sorry that this system is built to fail you. Iām sorry that people are defending an animal abuser. Iām sorry that people donāt value your life.ā
“I’m sorry that to society, you’re just a dog.”
Caesar continued to waddle forward without a care in the world as I sulked behind.
Standing up for things you believe in is scary. It can be hard to put yourself out there, to be the voice of something, to risk your safety. Do I feel safe? No. Absolutely not. I fear that Iām angering elected officials or that Iām going to make the wrong people mad by being so aggressive with my demands for justice. I fear that someone will hurt my dogs to get back at me and that I’m putting them at risk by speaking out. I fear retaliation. I imagine anyone who ever stood up for anything has these same fears.
The fear I feel, however, is nothing compared to what Carl felt as he was taken from his home, tied down with a foot of movement, and beaten until he nearly died.
Even with that in mind, thereās a part of me that wants to drop it ā that wishes it would all go away. āThis isnāt even my dog,ā I think to myself. āBut thatās not the point,ā another voice answers. I remember, “if I don’t speak out, who will?”
Sometimes in life, we are called to do hard things. How we answer to that call can determine who we become and what we stand for.
I have no idea what Iām doing. Iām beyond sad about the entire situation. I wish that evil people didnāt exist. I didnāt choose this, but maybe the universe chose me. Truly, thank you to every person who put their hand on my back, held me up, and said, āspeak!ā Iām not sure if people can change the world alone, but certainly together we can make a powerful impact.
To animals: I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re so sweet and compassionate and that there are evil humans in the world. I’m sorry that more people don’t see the value in your lives. I’m sorry that people try to scare the good humans into remaining silent. I’m sorry that our justice system is failing you. I’m sorry that more people aren’t vocal for you.
But I promise you this: I will NEVER remain silent, no matter how scary it is. I will be your voice, and I will stand up for what is right, because if I don’t, who will?
I’m sorry, but I will do better for you all.