Thursday, August 29, 2013

heartbreaking ... fearful

I can handle seeing people being hurt.

I can't handle seeing, or for that matter, even hearing about, an animal being hurt.

I've always been like that.

And as one of the most recent haters, who considers me a HORRIBLE person, so crudely put it, "You have dogs you pamper, while people are starving."


I do.

And if I could save the world, I would.

But I can't.

So, I love my dogs and I teach music without charge because children can't afford it.

It's about all I can do.

But the point is, I heard such horrible news about some animals here.

I try to understand.

It's cultural.

It's survival.

About a 45 minute drive from here is a gated community in Sosúa.

This is a place expats go to live to feel 'safe' from the murders, robberies, and to be amongst people who 'understand' you, because they came from your own culture.


We don't live there.

We live with people who are really from here.


This 'safe' place had a horrible experience.

All their dogs, as in ALL their dogs were poisoned.

The entire gated community's dogs, deceased.  Cats deceased.


Obviously, their armed guards, who are the ones supposedly keeping them safe, couldn't do much to help this.

Besides, here, The Guard is usually the one to rob you.

Here, thieves poison your dogs, returning while you're in agony from grieving, and rob you.

There is an entire community grieving over Fuzzy Families.

I'm heartbroken over this.

I'm also seeing that we really have to pay CLOSE attention to the possibility that anything could be thrown into the yard.

We have to diligently look for 'treats' thrown our babies' way.

We seem to be getting quite complacent.

We seem to feel quite protected by the wonderful people who live in our village.

The other day, the whole village came running when they heard a few gunshots go off.

They thought it came from our way, but it was a cop shooting at a drug dealer down the road, but still, they all came running to make sure we were OK.

We know, that with the exception of a couple of people, that those in our village are not the ones we're needing to protect ourselves from.


They are good people, but they have friends who don't look at us as people to protect.

We are simply white people who have things they could sell to support themselves and their family.

We have beautiful fuzzies that we would be in utter despair if someone took their lives.

Another world.

Another culture.

To me, it's heartbreaking what desperate people need to do to survive.

I'm afraid for my babies.

As horribly behaved as they are, I love them.

i choose to live in freedom over fear

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