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Foreword"If you talk with the animals they will talk with you and you will know each other. If you do not talk to them you will not know them, and what you do not know you will fear. What one fears, one destroys." - Chief Dan George
Every morning, before the sun rises I find my way to my meditation room that looks out to our back yard. It is my sacred time of meditation and writing. It is my time to center, to calm my mind, to open my heart, and to embrace all that life brings. For two days before the 19th of February, I had been having images of homeless people and abandoned animals. The weather had been unusually cold, with wind chills dropping to the minus thirties. Never questioning what appears to me in my dream world, or in meditation, I simply write what I feel in my heart. Unbeknownst to me, the spirit of a one-year old abandoned pit bull, Douja, was calling out to me. And one frigid Sunday afternoon I found my way to her. These writings are personal entries from my journal. I share them with you in hopes that you will open up your heart, and shed the fear that mainstream media has plagued on all of us, of the breed of pit bulls. In the sadness that erupted in my heart, I am moved to pass Douja's story on. May her spirit live on, and may her spirit move me, move all of us, to look beyond our own fears. Marilou Chanrasmi March 4, 2006 The ThreadJournal entry early morning of February 19, 2006. Little did I know that later in the day I would be led to Douja. An artic cold has cast a blanket over us. Wind chill temperatures have dropped down to minus thirties, air temperatures of eleven below zero. My mind wanders to the homeless people, to the abandoned animals. On the one hand my heart aches for the cold I know they must be enduring. On the other hand, my heart fills with gratitude for the roof over my head, and the heat that flows from our radiators, converging with cold air to create tolerable warmth. I hear the whispers "I am burning up", "I am freezing", "If we come together, share our burdens, share our gifts, we will create warmth that can penetrate our bodies and light our souls." Fire can burn us, but so can ice. Anything taken to the extreme will suck life out of us with the enthusiasm of a child, mouth on straw, sucking the last drop of his chocolate shake with vigor and instinct of a dolphin calf, who emerges from the depths of the ocean for his first breath of air. What is the thread that binds my thoughts, the pebbles in this journey called life? What is the thread that connects my heart to the beating heart of a homeless man or woman, who lies on the concrete ground, curled up in fetus position, life belongings by their side, as their body shivers uncontrollably? What is the thread that binds me to the beating heart of an abandoned dog, whose puppies lay lifeless around her? Her body, devoid of warmth, stripped to the bones, unable to give anymore to the helpless creatures that cannot live without her. There is a thread that connects us all. It's easier to pull the scissors out, snip the thread, and separate ourselves from the suffering. One voice I hear: "Why should I care? It's not my problem. I can't save the world. I've worked hard to get where I'm at; they can do the same. I don't want to know about 'them'!" Then the whisper from deep within my soul, the soul of the universe, "There is no separation, there is no 'you' and 'me', just us. In an instant, I can be that homeless person; that abandoned dog. We must keep sewing and strengthening the thread that binds us all. Make the thread visible. If we all sew, we can turn that single thread into a bridge." I feel blessed this morning, for in the frigid temperatures of St. Paul, Minnesota, the warm soul from the streets of the world, have reached out and into my heart, gently hooking a thread into my center. Finding Each Other Journal entry - February 19, 2006 [Written at 5 PM after finding Douja tied to a tree, and after animal control takes her away]. I'm walking out of the Starbucks in Highland Park, grande chai soy latte in hand. As I walk out I overhear a woman with a European accent on her cell phone, talking about what appears to be a dog tied up somewhere with a sign "I need a home." She is with her friend. I'm not sure if she's talking about a dog nearby or simply relaying a story. I scan the area and don't see any dogs. As I leave the parking lot and pull onto Ford Parkway something in me says to check the bus stop corner at Ford Parkway and Cleveland. Sure enough, there is a dog tied to a tree. The women had moved from outside Starbucks to the black fence by the dog. I park my car and head towards them. They have called the police. They tell me she is scared and has growled. She is shivering. She looks part boxer, part bull dog. White with reddish/brown spots. A beautiful dog. She has a knitted blue sweater on. Her nails are long. I walk to the other side of the fence and slowly approach her. There is a sign by her. A cardboard flap held down by a stone: "I need a new home. I am friendly and house broken. Female, 1 year old. My name is Douja." Douja sits up. Who knows how long she has been left out in the cold? Her leash wrapped and tied around the tree. Not much room to move. Her body is shaking. It appears she has recently had a litter. I am talking to her as I move closer. She growls. She is scared. She is cold; I wonder how anyone could leave their dog tied to a tree in such cold temperatures. As the wind blows, her body shakes even more. I long to hold her, to wrap her in my coat, to let her know it will be okay. One of the women walks across the street to get some dog food. I run home to get the doggie blanket in our garage. We don't know how long it will be before the police come to pick her up. All I know is that I am not going to leave her. I will stay with her till someone comes. When I get back, the women tell me she gulfed the food down. She was ravished. I reach over the fence to lay the blanket on the ground by the tree. The women caution me. I put my gloves on in case she decides to bite out of fear. I want to wrap her in the blanket but know I must be careful. Trust is a process. Trust takes time. She has been hurt and abandoned. Why should she trust me? I lay the blanket down and a minute later Douja nestles herself in the blanket and lays down. Her body is still shivering from the cold. I use my body to block the wind. The two women must leave as one of them has a plane to catch back to New York. They ask if I can stay with Douja till the police/animal control people come. I say "yes." I don't know how long it will be. But I know I cannot leave her. My body is now shivering from the cold. I was not dressed appropriately for standing out in the cold. I hadn't planned on this, but when is suffering ever planned? I have only been out in the cold for 45 minutes. Who knows how long she has been out in the cold? Someone must've cared about her. They put a sweater on her. But how can you care for a living being and leave them tied to a tree when the temperature is in the teens outside? I struggle to not pass judgment. I struggle to keep my mind and heart open. Every shiver in Douja, sends shivers down my spine. Did you call to me this morning, Douja, as my mind and heart filled with an image of an abandoned dog surrounded by lifeless puppies in the frigid cold? My body is shivering, but I feel your warm heart. In the cold I visualize our bodies wrapped in a warm blanket. And I call for someone to come soon to take you from the tree that holds you prisoner, leaving you to die a slow painful death. A white van pulls up. An animal control officer steps out. He is an older man with good energy. He talks to you. You growl. You show your teeth. As the rope comes around your neck you fight back with all you have. Calmly the man says, "Don't get mad at me. I'm not the one that left you!" This is his 4th dog to pick up today. Dogs abandoned, left to freeze. I watch as Douja is led to the white van. At first resisting, then in the end, jumps up and into the van. Maybe she feels the warmth of the van. I don't know what will happen to Douja. She will go to a shelter. Maybe she will be adopted. Maybe she will be euthanized. If I could I would've taken her home, and loved her and given her a home like I did Shen, Shadow, Sara, Shimano and Yoda. But I can't right now. We would have chaos and we would have dog fights. All I know is that leaving her there to freeze, tied to a tree and unable to fend for herself or even seek shelter, would be more cruel than the shot that may inevitably come to take her to heaven. I pray that she rests comfortably tonight. I pray that someone will take you in and open up their hearts and their home. You have been hurt sweet little Douja, but you are a beautiful soul. I hope you know that I will always carry a piece of you with me, and I hope you carry a piece of me with you wherever you are. Sweet dreams, sweet Douja. I Will Keep Waiting Journal Entry: February 20, 2006 From the voice of Douja..... What have I done wrong Mommy? What have I done wrong Daddy? Why have you tied me to this tree, and left me to die in this cold? I am cold. I am scared. I am tired. People pass me by, stare at me, and keep walking. I look for your face. Maybe you will come back. Yes, maybe you will come back. Maybe you got lost, or your car broke down, or you stopped to get me a surprise. I keep looking for your face. I am cold. I am scared. I am hungry. I close my eyes. I drift to the place where dreams come true, and I am no longer cold, where I feel your arms wrapped around me, and see the excitement in your eyes as I run towards you. Then, I jolt from the uncontrollable shivers of my body. I am awake, again. Still tied to a tree. Still cold. Still hungry. I keep looking for you. I keep waiting. Hope's heart beat fading, prisoner to the cold. But I will wait, Mommy. I will wait Daddy. Behind Bars, Two Weeks LaterJournal Entry - March 4, 2006 We went to the animal control shelter in St. Paul yesterday, and saw Douja. The woman out front knew right away who we were talking about when we said the dog was tied to a tree. It was clear there was kindness in her, and that she connected with the animals. She was more than a just a woman at the front desk. I knew Douja had some type of a "bull" dog in her. Thought maybe boxer and bull dog. The woman said she was a pit bull, and was pregnant. We asked if we could see her. She said that they were not able to adopt out pit bulls. That unless an agency came forward and said they would care for her until her pups were born, that she would most likely be euthanized. What is your story Douja? Why are you so scared? Why were you abandoned? You weren't aggressive like the two pit bulls in the cages next to you. One pit bull was barking, but his tail was wagging. Sentenced to death, because of your breed. No different than blacks sentenced to slavery because of the color of their skin. You were at the back of the cage, cowering. I got down on my knees so I could be at your level. I am so sorry Douja. If I could, I would take you in, surround you with love. But you will always be marked by some. A breed to fear. They wouldn't give you a chance. Get to know the kind, gentle qualities that lie beneath the outer presence of a pit bull. You didn't ask to be born a "pit bull." I didn't ask to be born asian. I just am. You just are. But society has labeled us. You pay the price of the vicious acts committed by fellow pit bulls at the hands of owners who have exploited them. You are sentenced to the needle, because we fear you, because we don't understand you. Sentenced to Death, because of your Breed Dedicated to Douja, a one-year old female pit bull I found tied to a tree in the Highland Park area, February 19, 2006, one frigid morning in St. Paul, Minnesota. It doesn't matter, that you were abandoned, tied to a tree at Cleveland and Ford Parkway, on one of the coldest days in Minnesota. It doesn't matter that you are pregnant. It doesn't matter you are scared, craving and longing for one simple thing: to be loved. All that matters is that you are a pit bull. All that matters is the label you carry, the Scarlet Letter. All that matters is society's illusive fear, the Black Plague that surrounds your breed. And that cloud of fear, combined with laws designed to "protect" us open up only one path for you, the one that leads to the almighty needle. No time for understanding. No time for compassion. No time for connection. Wrapped in our own fear, we sentence you to death, because of your breed. It's easier to eradicate what scares us, with a needle that penetrates your vein and keeps our illusion alive. Goodbye sweet Douja. Know that I see you. Know that I see beyond your breed, as I stand helpless by your side. Sentenced to death, because of your breed.
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