One Year Later
During that time, I let the pain break me; I let the grief change me; I let my spirit die with him. I became so far removed from the person I was before, that I honestly didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I was just… there. And barely.
While so many friends tried to comfort me, my only request was to be left alone. Because that’s exactly how I felt… alone. Abandoned. Shocked. Angry. Heartbroken. Devastated. And alone.
Even still, I was lucky to have so many people who cared about me. I received more calls, emails, and special gifts than I had at any other time in my life. I had messages from across the country, from people I’d never talked to, reaching out to offer comfort and support. Each person also took the time to explain how I had personally inspired them in some way, and those words truly meant the world to me.
But honestly... I couldn’t see myself as any kind of inspiration. I felt like quite the opposite… a complete and total failure.
One night, I talked to my friend Katie. She was trying to cheer me up by reminding me of all the lives I’d saved over the years. But for me, it had all lost its meaning. I said, “I don’t even know if I care anymore. I honestly think it’s best for me to take a break for a while. Maybe forever.” Katie said, “Ash! No! These dogs need you! You can’t take a break! Please don’t quit!” I responded, “My heart is too broken for this right now. I just can’t do it anymore.” And I got off the phone.
In saying those words… the words I’d promised myself I’d never say… I never wanted to give up on the dogs who need me. But after Rudy’s death, I suddenly felt like my heart just couldn’t take it, like every bit of strength and optimism I’d held inside had been ripped away. For so long—but not long enough—Rudy had been my comfort… from the pain of the work I do, from the cruelty of the world, and often, from reality itself. And now, he was gone. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. And tragically. In addition to Rudy, what really died for me… was hope.
Rudy died on July 8th. My 26th birthday was on July 11th, and it was easily the toughest birthday I’ve ever had. I hadn’t left my house in days, and the last thing I wanted was for people to wish me a “happy” birthday. I just couldn’t bear to talk to anyone. I knew how depressing it was to be in my presence, and I hated myself for being the person I never wanted to be. I was suddenly so different… in the worst possible way… and I didn’t want to burden others with my pain.
For my birthday, I ordered a special memorial for Rudy, a small garden statue of a dog with angel wings. It was just perfect for the flowerbed I’d planted over Rudy’s grave. *Remember this part of the story… it comes back later… in a big way. I’ll share that tomorrow.*
On my birthday, Katie called, asking if she could stop by my house. I nicely told her that I didn’t want to see anyone. But she insisted, saying, “Ash, I’ll only stay a second. I have something for you.”So I reluctantly agreed… but I warned her that the person she’d see when she arrived was not the same Ash she knew and loved. When she got here, I could see the initial shock on her face in witnessing what the grief had done to me. Despite that, she said, “You look good, Ash.” I responded: “I look like hell. But thanks for caring enough to lie.” Katie said, “Hush. You always look beautiful.”
She had a big smile on her face… which I found odd… but I assumed she was just trying to help me feel normal again. Then, she handed me a card. As I went to take it from her, she stopped me… and said: “The day after Rudy died, I started calling everyone we know. I wanted your birthday to be special, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you giving up on rescue. If I’d had more time, I could’ve done more… but in 2 days, this is what I was able to do for you…”
I asked, “Katie, what did you do??” She grinned and said, “Open it.” I opened the card to find more than $600 in donations… which at the time, was unprecedented for me. The card itself held more signatures than I could even count.
I was completely speechless. I sat there, staring at this card… a representation of so much compassion… tangible proof that so many people in my hometown actually love me and the work I do. I’ve often asked myself, “Does anyone here really care about my work… about my attempts to change the world?” That day, I knew the answer. They do care. Many of them.
With tears streaming down my face, I said, “You didn’t have to do this.” She said, “I wanted to do it… for you. And for all the dogs who need you. Ash, please don’t give up. Just look at how many people believe in you.”
That was the first time since Rudy died that I thought, maybe… just maybe… hope still existed.
A few days later, a tagged photo on facebook would inevitably lead to the purchase of Lucky Dog Retreat… and the realization of my lifelong dream. Suddenly, I was beginning to understand why Rudy had to leave me. In truth, the void in my heart after his death was ultimately the catalyst of change in my life. That loss would push me forward… guiding me towards hope and opportunity… and allowing me to reach my dreams.
And so... instead of despair, I grabbed hope... and held on for the wildest ride of my life...
And so... instead of despair, I grabbed hope... and held on for the wildest ride of my life...
Over the next few months, so many positive things happened for me. Lucky Dog Retreat became incredibly successful, and I was able to save many more lives through Lucky Dog Rescue. One of those special dogs was Annie, and later sharing her story would change my life in a huge way. (There’s another piece of Annie’s story I haven’t shared before… an event after her death that would give me all the hope I needed for the rest of this story to be possible. I’ll share that story tomorrow. It’s unreal.)
Over time, as each new rescue dog came through, I could feel their love slowly patching the holes in my heart. There are far too many dogs to list them all by name, but they each changed me, healed me, and further saved me from despair. And in December, I adopted my dog Riley, who would provide the final piece of healing. Also in December, we launched Pet Pardons, a small idea that became huge. I didn’t understand at the time just how huge it really was, but it was a total game changer for me personally, and a life saver for so many pets on death row. Pet Pardons has restored my faith in humanity, compassion, and action, and to date, more than 150,000 users have helped us save more than 3000 lives.
In January, a friend of mine, Catherine Moore, suggested that I start a blog, and she offered to build it for me. Writing has always been a passion of mine, and while I was nervous about putting myself out there, I didn’t have much to lose.
I decided on the name “Lucky Dog Rescue Blog,” and lovingly dedicated the site to my Rudy. On January 12, 2011, I launched my first post, My Story.
In all honesty, my greatest hope was that a couple of people would read it, and maybe one person would feel inspired to get involved. That was honestly the extent of my dreams for this thing. But I had no idea… that this blog would completely change my life...
I started writing, and people started reading. And more started reading. And then even more joined in. Messages from across the country—across the globe—were filling my inbox, and my heart was so full at the realization that people were not only connecting with my words, but also finding comfort and being driven to action.
Then, in March, I wrote the story that would change everything… Annie’s story. Yes, that Annie. Annie was a terminally ill death row rescue, who lived her last days in my home. At the suggestion of some friends, I wrote about her time with me… hoping it would inspire someone to do the same for another deserving dog. On March 7, 2011, I posted Annie’s story, assuming it would be just like every other post.
That’s when I was contacted by Care2.com, asking to feature the story in their “Rescue of the Week” segment. I was truly honored, but I still had no idea how far Annie’s story would reach. Adopt-a-Pet shared the story, Alyssa Milano tweeted the post, and Dogster.com, BellaDog Magazine, and countless other sites and publications also featured the story.
Suddenly, rescues and shelters from across the country were asking for my help to develop end-of-life programs for terminally ill pets. The fabulous Dr. Pia Salk of Adopt-a-Pet also called me for a long chat about how the story had personally impacted her. Pia and I would later work together on a post for Martha Stewart's blog. In addition, Guarding Dogs-The Documentary decided to make Lucky Dog Rescue part of their upcoming film project.
Before March, Annie’s life had only ever mattered to me. Now, her memory lives on in the hearts of more people that I ever could’ve imagined…
Because, to date, Annie’s story has been read and shared by well over 100,000 people… and growing.
Following that post, major websites contacted me to write guest blogs for their readers. For my Dogster.com guest blog, I chose to write a story I’d shared in the past… but from a different perspective. That story… was Rudy’s story… and it would be the next game changer for me. I sobbed as I poured my heart into the story of my little boy, and the writing process healed my heart in places that I didn’t know were still hurting. But in sharing that post, I had no idea just how huge it would be…
After Dogster’s feature, I was flooded with calls and messages from people around the world who had been touched by the piece… and the outpouring of compassion and support was nothing short of incredible. American Dog Magazine featured Rudy’s story in their summer issue, along with another of my blog posts, and a 2-page feature on me and Lucky Dog Rescue. That's 6 pages in their summer issue. Unreal.
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| Ahh yes, the "Barbie" photo |
My blog also led to another amazing event this year. A few months ago, one of my blog readers, Michelle Sathe, author of “Pit Stops,” added Lucky Dog Rescue as a stop on her cross-country book tour. In May, she finally came to visit, and it was one of the highlights of my year by far. Also, the blog post Michelle wrote about her time with me was one of the most wonderful pieces ever written about this ole Mississippi girl.
Today, six months after my very first post, Lucky Dog Rescue Blog gets more than 55,000 page views per month… and growing. I’ve received messages from readers across the world, in more than 30 different countries, and I’ve connected with more people than I ever could’ve imagined. Each day, so many special readers take the time to tell me how I’ve inspired them, changed their way of thinking, or driven them to action. After reading my posts, people are suddenly stepping-up to volunteer, foster, and transport… and those very readers are truly changing the world. It’s just more than I ever dreamed possible.
Because... if I’m being honest... I’m still shocked that anyone at all is reading this thing…
Last month, Lucky Dog Rescue received its official 501(c)(3) nonprofit status. That was another huge game changer. At 26 years old, I achieved my ultimate goal in life, giving me the chance to save so many more lives going forward. On that day, I felt Rudy, right there with me, saying, “You did it!” But I never would’ve done it, without him. His life inspired me beyond belief… and his death motivated me like nothing else ever could. Receiving my tax exempt letter was a major accomplishment and the perfect ending to an amazing year… or so I thought. But just before the year ran out… the final piece fell into place. More on that later, but it’s the biggest game changer of all...
One year ago, my life changed forever. And every day since, it’s changed forever too. But the biggest changes only happened, when I altered my mission… from mourning Rudy’s death… to honoring Rudy’s life.
In doing so, I opened my heart, I followed my dreams, and I fought my way back… to hope.
In doing so, I opened my heart, I followed my dreams, and I fought my way back… to hope.
And wow… what a year it’s been…
*Rudy, I love you so much. Thank you for changing my world as much in death... as you did in life. I hope I've made you proud, buddy. When I get to Heaven, I expect to see a long line of dogs waiting to greet me. Please make sure you're first in line. I miss you.
-Mom
-Mom
**Next, I’ll share one of the most incredible moments from last year, the event after Annie’s death that made this entire year possible. Click below to read that post (Part 3):
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