you know how

when you're in the skid car and they take the traction off all four tires at once and you go whirling helplessly toward the flaming desert sun and it feels like you're on some kind of carney ride so you may as well relax cause there's nothing you can do till it's over, anyway? and you realize you absolutely love that feeling?  and then it starts to slow and it's got that sweet, smooth glide to it and you can just hear Lara's Theme and the jingling of harness bells in your head?  you slow to a stop.  it's quiet except for the engine's tick but your body's still in motion...you're off center and out of balance and you're not sure you can stand, much less walk.

that's how i'm feeling.

can't figure what's happened, how i got here, where to go next.

what more can i say about shelter work?  it hurts.  every single one of the animals is wonderful. every one.  not to say i'd take all of them home....i realize i have a limit and that i simply cannot care for more.  at least not in the way that they deserve.  i'm down to four dogs now, with Felicia happily homed elsewhere.  And it's not the feeding or the vet visits or the meds that make it difficult having four. It's the fact that i fell in love with each of them as individuals...developed a relationship with one at a time.  By bringing them together, i've created a writhing pack of creatures in constant motion, in constant competition for that unique relationship we used to have but have no more because their collective emotional demands are infinite and my emotional resources are not.

i always think, about the shelter dogs, if they only had a place to run they'd be so happy, so healthy, so calm.  it's what i always wish for them when they're adopted...that they get the chance to run and to behave like dogs again...but my dogs have that and they're not happy.

They're very well cared for, my dogs.  They have good food, treats, toys.  They have fresh air and the freedom to safely run and explore.  They have each other for companions and they sleep in clean beds, just outside my room.  We go for walks together, twice a day.  And they're not happy.  When they're made to stay outside, they suffer, wearing a path around the house from the back step to the doggie door, back and forth on the chance they might squeak inside.  If they are inside, they're following me.  They tussle outside the bathroom door.  No one lies down, ever...they stand in constant attendance, pawing at me, jockeying for position.

And it hurts my heart to say but I'm not happy, either.

I have to question what i've done here.  I have to ask if any of us are better off or whether, perhaps, i've just created another unhappy shelter...a different kind of hell where it's the soul caged and starving.