Griffin

In June, when Griffin got sick the first time, the vet (a bulldog expert and multiple award winner in his field) warned me that it would be the first of many trips to see him because Grif is a sick dog. I cried and I agonized and I debated my options with every person I know.

Surgery #1 was successful and he got better and I fell a little more madly in love with him every day.

Surgery #2 was a necessary follow up and he did well.

He has been on antibiotics since June, but he still gets sick. We've done hundreds of dollars worth of tests and they all come back clear. He continues to be the sweetest, most lovable puppy around.

After the last vet visit, another huge sum of money, a sick dog and seemingly no end in sight, I emailed the bulldog rescue representative. I didn't want to get rid of him, but I hadn't slept through the night in weeks and I kept bursting into tears whenever I looked at him.

She and I spoke on the phone for a long time. She said he didn't sound adoptable, which meant I could keep him or put him to sleep. She suggested I call the vet again and have him call her to discuss Griffin's health and they could figure out what the best recommendation would be.

Yesterday the vet let me know that Griffin could have palate surgery. 9 times out of 10, dogs with his same issues have this surgery and never get sick again. He's not sick enough to put to sleep but he's got too many issues to be adoptable, so it's either live with a constantly sick dog or surgery. $1300, although the vet offered to do it for $800 (perhaps because I gasped when he said $1300, or maybe because Griffin is particularly adorable and pathetic, I don't know).

I'm not thrilled with writing another huge check, but I don't see another option and I'm hopeful this could be the solution. He's going in on Monday, so I we'll know soon...

Part 2- Rage

Bleeding heart liberal... until my car window was smashed and my purse stolen. Now I'm mad... no, now I'm RAGING.

On Sunday, my roommates and I took the three dogs to the dog park. Ordinarily, I wouldn't being my purse with me because I obviously know better than to leave my purse in my car. However, I was in between errands and honestly, didn't even think about it. When we got there, I put it under the seat and figured that in a busy parking lot, in the middle of the afternoon, it would be fine.

When we returned to the car an hour later, my window was shattered and my purse was gone. As I waited for the police to arrive, the gas station down the block also called the police because they saw a man filling up his gas tank throw a purse into the garbage can. Apparently cars get broken into several times a week at this park (news to me), so the gas station is used to this sort of thing.

The officer arrived with my purse (minus my credit cards, ID, camera, and gum, but still containing my lip gloss, old papers, etc), filed a report and then my roommates, dogs and I headed home. And I have been fuming ever since.

I'm mad at myself for leaving my purse in my car, but I am also mad because I should be able to leave my purse in my car. Because they are MINE. How dare he... what would ever make him think it was okay to do that? Does he have no decency? The gas station attendant saw a black man throw my purse away. And all I can think is, "congratulations dude, you are a complete cliche. Seriously? Pull up your pants, go get a job and stop perpetuating the stereotype." I don't feel like my normal bleeding heart liberal self. And I'm mad about that. Because I am the first person to argue against stereotypes, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to look beyond someone's race or gender to approach with an open mind.

I'm also mad that I had to drive around for 2 days with no window and then I had to spend $240 to have my window replaced. Not to mention $2osomething to replace my ID, 17 phone calls to get a new bank account and new cards. And then there's my stolen camera (I hope he enjoys the 57 pictures and videos of my dogs), stolen wallet, oh, and did I mention my stolen hope? Yeah, because he took that too.

I realize that his life probably sucks and he was probably desperate and, while annoying and violating, this won't really affect my life long term. I realize that I should read and re-read "Part 1- Idealism" because while this was his fault, I have conflicted feelings about how much blame and hatred I can actually assign to this individual....

Except that I'm really mad. I can't stop thinking about how unacceptable this was. How, no matter what kind of difficult life you've had, in no way is it okay to break someone else's window and take something that doesn't belong to you. I keep thinking of the terrible things I would like to say to him. And for possibly the first time ever, I totally understand the opposite view point (does anti-bleeding heart liberal have a name?). I understand the viewpoint that, "I work hard for my money, I don't want it to go towards helping people who can't help themselves." Sorry poor people, you're on your own.

*Sigh*

Even in my rage, I can freely admit that my education, my job, my house, car, purse, and everything else in life that I have earned, was earned with the support of my family, neighbors, and greater community. I didn't get to this place in life on my own. I was given incredible opportunities from the time I was young, supported through everything and lucky enough to grow up in a culture of success. Education wasn't a choice. Working hard wasn't a choice. College, getting a job, making something of myself- none of those were choices. Those things were givens- just what you do. I didn't become who I am because I am a superior human being to the purse snatcher. I was just lucky enough to be born into a world where success was expected from birth... The same way that he was (probably) born into a world where a crime is, if not expected, at least common. How much can I really fault him?

There is a war inside of me between my feelings of wanting to change the world one person at a time, with a new found desire to direct all charitable giving funds towards a giant wall- behind which we can send all of the loser criminals to live and destroy each other, leaving the res of us (productive members of society) to live in peaceful harmony. I'm not sure which will win...

Part 1- Idealism

Ordinarily, I would proudly consider myself a bleeding heart liberal. I believe in helping others. I believe that it takes a village to raise a child and that we have a duty to help one another, regardless of how much someone "deserves" help or not. Nothing in life is equal and I think that part of the responsibility of having more is to use your wealth, power or influence to help others. I am happy to make sacrifices for the betterment of the community overall. Isn't that the whole idea behind community? I love community- people coming together, sharing resources, strength in numbers.

My conservative boyfriend tells me I am the most idealist person he's ever met. I am an optimist. I believe in hope. I grew up in a wonderful family, in a nice neighborhood, went to great schools, was given every opportunity and, until my 20s, never even considered that there was an alternative to "anything is possible if you can dream". Warm and fuzzy? Yes, probably, but when your entire existence is filled with supportive, loving people, opportunities, and everything is presented with a side of sugar and glittery pixie dust, it's difficult not to have hope.

Not everyone grows up the way that I did. When a child grows up in a tough neighborhood, without positive role models, and where crime, violence and disrespect are part of the everyday culture, and where emphasis is not placed on education, responsibility, or morality- that child is at a disadvantage. When it's not just one child, but an entire community of children, who go on to have their own children, and so on and so on, it becomes a culture of poverty. An entire group of people who are lacking in values, have limited resources and an entirely different outlook on the world.

"Right" and "wrong", honesty, responsibility and making good choices have been instilled in me since I was learning to walk and talk. Sometimes I may sometimes struggle to do the right thing, but there's really no excuse for me to make wrong, irresponsible, dishonest choices because I know what is appropriate.

If you grow up surrounded by crime, without role models, without consequences and your parents and neighbors have grown up that way, and you are completely surrounded by that identity, is it really possible to know right from wrong? I'm not saying that people have no opportunities to learn about rules, or develop a sense of morality. And I'm not saying it's acceptable to be a criminal. But I think if I were to steal someone's purse, it would be more shocking, more unbelievable and somehow more reprehensible than the guy who grew up surrounded by disorder. Right and wrong have been instilled in me since birth, so I have NO excuse to commit a crime, whereas, the guy who's whole life has been chaos is pretty much doomed to replicate the same behavior.

A crime is a crime, and all people should be held to the same standard, but how realistic is it to put two people in entirely opposite circumstances and expect them to behave in the same way.