Shaun and I have been gone for days. We were doing something I've been telling myself and others that I wouldn't do.
I'm about to talk too much. I can't possibly give all the details of this complicated story here, but I'm about to speak ill of the dead. To any friends or family that don't want to be identified, don't out yourself in the comments if you want to keep this private. I'm only using first names here for a reason.
When we were kids my brother and I were babysat by a girl who was 5 years old than me named Sabrina. She was always nice to us. She was kind of a tomboy. Really tough. Into horses. She let me ride one of hers once and I jumped off it because it was running towards the electric fence and I didn't want to get electrocuted. The horse was running towards the fence because Sabrina was feeding it. She got her ass beat for that, even though it was I who made a bad decision. That's just how things were in the 80s/90s in the circles my family associated with. You performed violence upon your children to keep them in line.
Sabrina wasn't the best influence. She let me and Cade try cigarettes for the first time. I didn't like it, but years later my brother made it a regular habit. She told me about her first real boyfriend. I still remember his whole name because she said it so much. I heard all about her first consensual sexual encounter when she snuck off to be with him. I remember her writing him love letters and young me trying to correct her spelling of "supposed"... Sabrina swore it was spelled "suppost" because of the way it sounded when you said "supposed to." She wasn't all bad, though. She read the words on Batman when it came on TV for Cade. "BAM! POW! SPLAT!" She kept us safe and fed. She showed me how to comb my hair and then bend a thin stream of water from the faucet with the static. We had other horse-riding times where no one got in trouble.
Of course, we got older and didn't need a babysitter anymore and Sabrina grew up, too. I didn't really hear much about her after that. People weren't so connected back then. If you didn't know where someone lived or have their phone number, then you likely were not in touch. So fast forward from the 90s to 2018 - about 6 years ago, and we found each other on Facebook. We messaged and traded phone numbers and eventually I went to see her in person.
My first night at her house we talked so much that I was too tired to drive home. I ended up spending the night because she was about 2 hours away from where I lived and I knew I couldn't make that drive home on no sleep. We had SO MUCH catching up to do! I met her large dogs, Jersey and Sam, and her boyfriend, Fred, who was a really nice guy. It felt so familiar and comfortable - like being with a long lost family member. I don't know if it was because of her babysitter status with me or what, but I never felt unsafe with her - even when she busted out the weed and cocaine on top of her constant sipping of vodka and smoking of cigarettes. I was honestly shocked at how she was able to carry on a normal conversation with me, seemingly unaffected. I will admit that I don't know much about drugs and alcohol, (having never been unsober myself), but it seemed like a lot of things to do in one night.
I wasn't judging her. I really don't care what grown people do with their bodies in their own home if they aren't hurting anyone else. I think more drugs should be legal and available safely, but that's a post for another day. So I asked her how she seemed so straight despite what she was doing and, ever honest, she explained to me that she'd been doing them for a long time and much of it just made her feel normal. She also told me about past drug use and how she was proud that she'd quit heroin. I've read that that one is really hard to quit, so I was proud of her, too. We hung out a few more times, even taking a trip to the zoo.
It wasn't terribly long after we reconnected that she moved to Phoenix, AZ, though. It was early 2020. She moved there for healthcare, which I 100% understand. Despite her being honest about her drinking, no one in Alabama seemed to be able to diagnose her with cirrhosis of the liver, which she definitely obviously had. I moved to New Mexico later in 2022, so we were only about 6 hours apart at that point. She asked me to visit her a few times, which I did. I'd met her roommate, Martin. On one of those trips to visit she was celebrating her birthday, so I also met her nurse and her friend that she referred to as "Uncle Richard." While in Arizona, she was still smoking cigarettes, as well as pot - which was legal there. She stopped the cocaine because she didn't care about it enough to find a hookup. She continued to drink vodka heavily. She was on and off hospice care while in Phoenix because the healthcare providers kept expecting her to die and she just didn't. She got so sick of being told she only had 3 or 6 months left and then living past it. She said it was scary and gave her anxiety.
Other than that I feel like she was pretty happy in Phoenix. She was renting a nice house. It had a pool. She had her dogs with her. She had a roommate or two (Martin and Beth) and it seemed like that went mostly ok. I don't think Martin and Beth got along, but Martin was a truck driver so he wasn't home much. Her friend/roommate Beth helped take care of Sabrina and the dogs.
Eventually, Beth moved out and Sabrina was mostly home alone. She didn't like that too much. She told me that she was paranoid schizophrenic, so she didn't feel comfortable being alone (aside from the fact that she didn't want to die alone, either). Her phone calls and pleas for me to visit became more frequent, but I'd started my dream job and didn't have the empty space to fill anymore. I also didn't always love the visits. She smoked all over me and I hated it. I would remind her and then we'd head outside, but the very next time she wanted a cigarette, she'd light up right next to me again. She was loud. She needed a lot of attention and stomped around and yelled. She needed the TV up loud to keep from hearing outside noises and getting bothered. I started to feel more like entertainment than a person she wanted to interact with. It was kind of sad seeing how lonely she was, but I'd learned over time through our conversations that she'd been really shitty in her heavier drug-using days to a lot of friends and family, so she'd done it to herself. She freely admitted that. She said that she'd tried to make some amends, but not everyone was open to it, so there was nothing else she could do.
Despite me keeping my physical distance for a while, we kept in touch on Facebook and the phone. I could handle that much better than long trips to a place where I didn't want to be. One evening she called me several times, saying that Martin was supposed to be home, but that he wasn't. She said she woken up from a nap and that he was gone and hadn't taken his wallet or ID. She said he walked to the store sometimes, but always took his wallet. A few panicked calls later, I told her that I was sure he was ok and that I was heading to bed. Around 5 that morning she called again, saying that Martin and Uncle Richard were found at Uncle Richard's house, both dead of gunshot wounds. She was now alone in Phoenix and panicking.
I didn't know what to do, but she begged me to help her move. I told her to let me know when she had a place to go. I took off work in February and helped her move in with a friend in Pampa, TX.
That move was a whole long story in and of itself. I had DoorDashed boxes and packing tape to her weeks before I arrived (she couldn't drive to get things because she had seizures), but she still wasn't fully packed when I came to get her. I had to rent the moving van and also help pack her stuff and then pack the van. I paid for all of the gas and the hotel stay, as well as the van rental. I was really patient with her, even when she forgot her asthma inhaler and we had to stop at an emergency room for her to get another one. She puked off and on the entire trip because her body was shutting down. She was only not puking when she was passed out on pain meds. She was rough with the dogs continually hit Sam while yelling "Get back! Get back!" while I was driving and at one point kicked Jersey, who was 14 years old at the time. She was mad at Sam for creeping towards the front of the van to be with us because he might step on her barf bag and she was mad that Jersey was pulling the leash on the way to the hotel, but these dogs were never socialized or leash-trained. I know that she was in pain and also mourning the loss of her home and her friends, but I told her I was never helping her with anything else after that. She had now crossed my fucking line. For the rest of the trip I tied Sam where he couldn't get close enough to her to get hit and I walked both giant, untrained dogs by myself (separately, of course).
I'd never seen Sabrina hurt an animal before. I knew that she grew up on a farm and that they frequently ate the animals that they cared for. She'd told me stories of having to kill some of them herself. I know that that takes a toll and that most farmers have a different view of animals than me. I don't love it, but I get it. I knew that Sabrina yelled at the dogs. Sometimes she yelled at Sam for snoring, which seemed mean because it's not like he could help it. I knew that she kind of shuffle-kicked him out of the way sometimes. That didn't seem overly violent considering that he was probably 100 lbs and since her body was failing he could cause her to fall or wet her pants due to not having a clear path to the bathroom. But I'd never seen her just haul off and hit or kick one of them, and that is exactly what she did to Sam for daring to try to be near her when it was inconvenient and Jersey for pulling the leash. Sam took the beatings quietly, but Jersey yelped when she was kicked. My heart was broken.
Jersey is not a super sociable dog. I was told that she hated men and was snappy with most people, but she and I always got along well. Jersey has arthritic hips and gets allergies on top of her butt in the spring. She was a little fat which was bad for her hips, but otherwise she was doing ok. At Sabrina's house, she usually slept on a dog bed in the corner. That night in the hotel, she asked to sleep with me. She was too fat to get on the bed, but stood up with her paws on the edge. We locked eyes and in that moment I promised her that everything would be ok. It wasn't a verbal promise. It was a heart to heart knowing between us and I don't know how else to describe it. Then I went and picked her back end up and she slept there with me all night. Sam is kind of a goofy thing and is friendly to most people. He usually slept in the floor at Sabrina's house. He was up on the bed and then down again. I think he kept getting hot. But I feel it was telling that two dogs chose me over their dying owner.
Anyway, we made it to her friend Cowboy's house the next day. He was a nice guy, but he did NOT know what he was getting into. That wasn't his fault - Sabrina had hidden her sickness and the size of her dogs from him. She also did not make her intention to live with him until she died clear; he thought he was helping her get on her feet. When we arrived and let the dogs out of the van, his eyes were huge. He asked if they had crates and she said flatly "My dogs don't go in cages." After we unloaded the van, she then sat him down and told him how things were going to be, that her dogs would kill his girlfriend's small dog so she didn't need to bring him over anymore, etc. I was astounded by the audacity. He did stand up to some of what she said, but it was in that moment that I learned the extent of how she'd manipulated him into taking her in and I felt HORRIBLE for being party to it. I had no idea.
I went home that night feeling like a huge douchebag, but there was nothing I could do. Sabrina got settled in and remained in touch via phone and Facebook. It wasn't long before she called and asked me to move her again - but back to Alabama this time. She said that there would be no room for her at Cowboy's house soon. She said that the dogs were a problem and she was going to have to take them to the pound. She said she felt like she was in his way and that they weren't getting along. I told her that I wouldn't be getting along with her either if she had hidden so much from me to get me to take her in. Her pleas became more frequent and even when I explained that I couldn't take the time off, plus that I had to pay for everything last time, etc, she didn't want to take no for an answer. She would do things like say "Well, I'm going off the grid for a while." or whatever and I would enjoy my peace and quiet. I am not usually a confrontational person, but the last time she asked she was like "If you don't want to take me just say it." so I did. I told her that besides me not needing to take off work and besides me having to pay for it all the last time that it wasn't fun for me and in fact it was quite stressful and that I didn't want to go to Alabama because it's a much longer trip and that I hated the way she treated the dogs and that I wasn't going to do it. I then got the silent treatment for a blissful few weeks.
To be honest, I feel like during the whole ordeal of moving and then wanting to be moved again I had gotten a glimpse of the behavior that had driven all of her friends and family away and, well, I was not immune to that shit, either. She was, perhaps, not using/abusing drugs as heavily as when she ran off everyone else, but I definitely felt manipulated and saw her lies (of omission, if you must) and I was not a fan. Also, she hit Sam and kicked Jersey. That's a fast way to get on my "Fuck you." list.
Sabrina called again a few weeks later, saying that she had been in the hospital and that's why she hadn't called. She also cried and said that she loved her dogs and didn't want me to think that she didn't. They were house dogs; they had air conditioning and cable TV. Never mind that she poured vodka down Jersey's throat when she didn't want to drink alone or threw Sam into the pool despite him being scared to death (I never witnessed these things, but she told me about it). She loved them more than anything and they were all she had left. Then she asked me to take them and find them homes when she died. I told her that I would, but then Facebook talked me out of it. Sam kills smaller animals and Jersey has a bite history. They are not dogs that I need to have a part in rehoming anywhere, so I messaged her on Facebook and told her that if I ended up with Jersey and Sam that I'd have to have them humanely euthanized. Every time we spoke after that, she told me not to worry about her plans for her dogs when she died.
Well, I heard from her one final time about 6 weeks ago. She was living in hotel rooms and had made a friend. She said she really didn't think it would be long before she died [for real this time] because she was in and out of the hospital pretty frequently. We chit-chatted and I told her I was glad she had a place to stay and a friend and we said "I love yous" before we hung up.
I got a message from Cowboy about 2 weeks ago that she'd passed. She had been renting a mobile home and was found deceased. I'm not 100% on the details, but if I had to guess I'd say that her illness caught up to her. I asked about the dogs and was told that they were at the pound. I assumed that none of her relatives knew of her passing, so I took it upon myself to get in touch with her brother. It was one of those funny-but-not-funny situations because his reaction was "For real?" Apparently, she'd been telling people that she was dying, and I do believe that she was. I knew she was sick from looking at her when we caught up in 2018, but I didn't know what was wrong. I knew she was on hospice in Arizona because I met two of her nurses, so that was at least 2 years of her doctors believing that she had 6 months or less. It just happened REALLY damn slowly.
So what does any of this have to do with my weekend plans? Well... Jersey and Sam, of course. I tried not to let them "be my problem" but I couldn't help it. So many of my friends and family told me to stay out of it, but I was asked by several people if I was getting the dogs. I don't know if Sabrina believed that I could have them put to sleep. If they didn't have a place to go, I could have. I would have hated it, but I could have. There is no space at my house for dogs who bite people and kill smaller animals. Rescues would be hesitant to take them for the same reasons. I had our beautiful, sweet Rose humanely euthanized due to behavioral/mental stability concerns. I fucking hate it sometimes, but I can do hard things.
THANKFULLY, I got in touch with Fred - Sabrina's guy in Alabama. I remembered that she'd called him from my phone when I moved her in February, so I scrolled back and called the unlabeled number that I didn't recognize and IT WAS HIM. I told him who I was. I asked if he knew about Sabrina. I then asked him if he wanted the dogs. He said yes, so I said "Ok, I'll bring them to you." And that is what I did. Sabrina's amazing daughter coordinated with me and got the shelter to hold them until this weekend so that I could pick them up. I was planning to go alone; I knew I could handle the dogs alone because I did for the second leg of trip when I moved Sabrina, but Shaun wasn't having it despite never wanting to step foot in Alabama again. I've driven long distances by myself and it doesn't bother me, but Shaun wanted to help me and I appreciated it.
The shelter was much nicer than I anticipated for such a small town. When we arrived, the dogs had a whole room to themselves, and thankfully they were still together. They neutered Sam (I wish Sabrina would have done it, but she never did). They didn't even charge me to pick them up, but we made a donation to the shelter anyway. The dogs were happy and well cared-for. When we left, they both got straight into my car with no hesitation. They did well on the ride - Jersey especially. She used to go on the road with Martin sometimes, so she was used to riding. Sam panted and sat awkwardly and farted terribly the whole ride. They LOVED the hotel room and made themselves at home immediately. Jersey was rolling around and asking for attention and I've honestly never seen her like that - every time I've seen her has been in Sabrina's presence and she was much more reserved and grumpy. She is a people-biter and supposed man-hater, but she was friendly to Shaun and overall her personality seemed much lighter. One thing that bothered me was that Sam flinched away when I went to pet him once. He's never seemed fearful, but I have a feeling that her hitting him in the head in the moving van wasn't a one-time thing.
At the hotel we had a king-sized bed and everyone was in it at one point. We all crashed out in relatively short order. I heard Jersey ever-so-quietly whine at 3:46 in the morning. We decided to take them out and they both needed to potty pretty bad. After we came back in, Sam slept in the floor, snoring loudly. Jersey happily chewed a bone and shook the bed. It wasn't a super restful night, but it was so good to see them comfortable.
I think we spent 10 hours in the car with the dogs on Saturday. It was a lot. By about halfway through the second day Sam started to relax. It was raining a stupid amount by the time we hit the Alabama state line. It was dark and raining hard by the time we got on the winding roads near Fred's house. But the relief on those dogs when they realized they were somewhere familiar... I can't even express how happy it made me. And Fred was so happy that he shed a few tears. It was a beautiful reunion. He was so grateful to have them home. He said they've never been outside dogs and they weren't going to start now. That was music to my ears. I'm so relieved that it worked out. I'm glad there was something I could do. I don't care that it was out of my way or a long drive or that I have a bruised hand from them pulling the leash or that my car smells like shelter dog. It was all worth it. I'm happy because I kept my promise to Jersey. That is what matters to me.
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| Jersey in the back, Sam in the front. Picture taken at their home in Phoenix. |
