Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was a good man. He died honorably, fighting a decent battle for the welfare of all — men, women, children, and animals alike. His message was one of equality, not segregation. King challenged us:
Never, never be afraid to do what’s right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society’s punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way.
That said, I won’t look the other way as Reverend Ron Wright hoards the media’s attention surrounding Justice the puppy’s animal cruelty case with what I view as divisive, counterproductive rhetoric.
If you’re unfamiliar, Wright is the fancy suit wearin’, sweet talkin’ reverend who appears to be racing toward every camera and reporter he can wrangle, spieling sweet Lordy Lordy Hallelujahs over the bail bond amount set for Darius Ewing. Ewing, who turned himself in under felony warrant last month, reportedly lit a stray puppy named Justice on fire for amusement. The puppy, who was hung first before being set ablaze, died a week and a half later from serious burn injuries. Wright surprised just about everybody when he zeroed in on this case as being racial, which I believe is nothing short of manipulating the facts.
I gave Ron Wright the benefit of a doubt when I first became aware of his public mission. After all, we seemingly have many binding interests. Truth is, after witnessing his behavior in person and during interviews over the course of the past few weeks, I’m not only wary of, but also disappointed by this so-called preacher man parading around like just about everything except a humble servant to his faith.
I’m not the only one put off by Wright’s antics. As reported by The Dallas Morning News in 2008, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, a longstanding African-American civil rights organization first led by Dr. King, issued an official statement claiming Wright was “not authorized” to speak for the group, calling statements he made “unfounded”:
Dexter M. Wimbish, Esq.
SCLC General Counsel
SCLC Statement of Clarification of Dallas Representatives
The national office of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference has become aware of public statements made concerning issues involving the shooting of an unarmed man in Dallas, Texas. The statements made by Rev. Ronald Wright, Peter Johnson and others as it related to SCLC are not authorized by the National SCLC. In additional there is no regional SCLC office located in Dallas, Texas nor has the Board of Directors authorized the creation of a regional office.
There is a properly sanctioned Dallas Chapter in the City of Dallas with established leadership under the direction of SCLC President Derrick Bowman and any public comments held attributable to SCLC should come from that chapter or the national SCLC office. The Southern Christian Leadership Conference employs a systematic approach to nonviolence and conflict resolution that includes conducting a fact finding phase before making unfounded statements such as those attributed to Rev. Ronald Wright.
Ouch. What a complete mutilation of Wright’s legitimacy amongst his religious and political peers.
Likewise, activists today are questioning Ron Wright’s motives for such aggressive finger pointing in the Darius Ewing case. Richard Hunter, an animal rights advocate who adopted one of Michael Vick’s dogs, recently challenged Wright-and-Ewing supporter, Bonnie Mathias, when she asserted Ewing’s bond was set unfairly high. Hunter requested:
Jim Wenger co-founder of DFW Rescue Me, the group that sponsored Justice’s medical care, agrees this case is strictly about a violent crime. When asked outside the courtroom, he told reporters: “It’s an animal cruelty issue. His bond was set where it was because he was a flight risk, it’s a felony.”
In the press, though, Wright maintained, “It [the bond] says that dogs are more important when it comes to African-American men.” For good measure, Wright added, “Women and dogs are even when it comes to getting bail.”
(Yes, you really just read that.)
I wager I’m not alone in my failure to connect with Wright’s cavalcade of Crazytown logic. In fact, reality couldn’t differ more from the hot air rolling off Wright’s tongue. Our society has clearly indicated through repeated example that dogs are unimportant and acceptably cast aside when inconvenient. Obviously, an animal isn’t capable of committing the heinous act for which Darius Ewing turned himself in, yet, in the event a dog is apprehended for malicious behavior, there is no bond, no trial, no jail sentence, no reprieve. There’s death. So I’d say, despite how the rev paints the comparison, Darius Ewing’s prospects look a lot better than they would for any canine in his position — guilty or otherwise. As for Wright’s commentary equating women to dogs in relation to “getting bail,” I think it’s safe to assume no bondsman would consider a paw print any sort of legally binding signature. Let’s face it: Dogs have nothing over people of either sex or any color of the rainbow unless we’re discussing mugshots, and then I readily admit dogs have the upper hand. (I hope Ron Wright is okay with that injustice.)
Before the initial bond hearing, Wright made claims that his dog Sadie was poisoned as a retaliatory measure for his championing Darius Ewing’s case, that he thought someone threw meat dipped in antifreeze or something over his fence. Again, as in the instance with the SCLC, Wright’s accusations are unfounded and reprehensible. According to articles like this one, he didn’t rush to file for police investigation. He didn’t get an official opinion by physically visiting a licensed veterinarian or obtaining a necropsy — something you would need to do to prove a serious allegation worthy of reporting. He provided no body, no evidence. He offered no photo of the dog in the state of death which he described. Nah, Wright called Shaun Rabb from Fox 4 News over to scavenge around in the ramshackle backyard to view poor Sadie’s grave instead. The condition of that dog’s dilapidated, potentially dangerous living quarters — full of what appear to be plants poisonous to canines and construction materials with jagged edges — in combination with Wright’s immediate, speculative actions demonstrate to viewers like myself that his primary concern was not in stopping the possible poisoning of other dogs in his area. It might seem the intention was, sadly, to use Sadie’s death as a platform to further try Darius’s case in the media, to imply blame in a manner where Wright could easily also later step back and say, Oh, I never told anyone it was an animal rights activist who did this. I just said I thought it was retaliation. But, really, what other reason would there have been for calling a camera crew? Generally, people who are grieving the loss of an animal don’t stumble over themselves trying to speed dial reporters. I feel terrible for the rev’s dog. Sincerely, I do feel awful for the way she was left to fend for herself in that filthy backyard within close proximity to where another dog was recently known to be burned to death by someone Darius’s family and supporters insist is still at large. I feel sorry for how Sadie had to seek shelter in that decrepit dog house. I feel sickened her owner turned her death into something fit more for a drama llama than for a beautiful German Shepherd. Hopefully, someone is capable of getting to the root of this issue for Sadie and her animal brethren, who cannot speak for themselves.
What I’ve said might seem harsh given the heartbreaking circumstances of Wright’s dog, but we are talking about a public figure whose track record is not one of obvious concern for animal welfare, someone who bullied his way through an entire crowd post-hearing in order to reach the bevy of cameras outside the courtroom. Once in front of the microphones, Ron Wright carelessly segregated viewers by waving his familiar flag about an issue that’s got nothing to do with anything except an animal being hung and lit on fire. Remember, this case attracted international attention. Great weather for glory-seeking if you’re into that swarmy sort of thing.
Click to view footage of the rev holding his position: “It reeks of racism.” I wonder: If Darius Ewing had been a white man, would Ronald Wright have claimed a bond of the same amount “reeked of racism?” Would that even have created a blip on the reverend’s justice radar? Naw, come on.
As I was trying to help an older woman leave the hectic area near the media, Rev. Wright shoulder-checked my entire right side. I felt uncertain it was intentional even though it was definitely rude, yet decided to let it go. In the video link above, he narrowly misses doing the same thing to another female (marker :44), barreling past the smiling woman in all manners of pompous self-importance as she is forced to literally scale the side of the doorframe to avoid making contact. A gentleman only steps aside when he’s a gentleman, I suppose.
Then I observed him perform the same move at a later time on Jim Wenger, DFWRM. This time, Wright seemed to avoid the open spaces to the right and left of Wenger, and appeared to move directly in front of the animal advocate in a physically confrontational manner. Refusing to participate in the rev’s pissing match, Jim continued to proceed toward our group, and I asked, “Did Wright really just body-check you? That’s what it looked like from over here.” To which, Jim casually replied, “Tried to, didn’t he?”
I might have been surprised a bit more if I hadn’t also witnessed Wright’s less-than-professional courtroom etiquette where he audibly laughed and shook his head as the detective testified that Ewing cussed at him, telling him: “F*** the police. Suck my d***. Come get me if you want me.” During the hearing, there were several moments I could not understand what the witness was saying because Wright was holding conversation with the woman next to him. Their recurring laughter at the cops who were on the stand was unbelievably disrespectful. When the witness discussed the arrest of Ewing, including how he was detained by Homicide at the police station, Wright could no longer contain himself: “Homicide. It was just a dog. This was all FOR A DOG!” And then he and the people near him giggled insensitively, rolling their eyes, making faces, shaking their heads as they cracked up. It was like being trapped within close proximity to the live action, mannerless rendition of People of Walmart (dot com). This version of Wright beyond the camera’s scope was a completely different guy from the one who was traipsing around with Shaun Rabb after Sadie died. He certainly didn’t tell Rabb she was “just a dog.” No, he saved that for the courtroom when he refused to contain his thoughts out of consideration for others, including the gentlemen who sat behind him respectfully the entire time — also there in support of Ewing. Perhaps, those guys didn’t miss the teaching in Proverbs 29: 11:
A fool utters all his mind, but a wise man keeps it in ’til afterwards.
In the hallway, Wright and members of Darius Ewing’s family were upset the bond was reduced by half. That wasn’t good enough for them even though it was really quite a victory. A family member said the bond should be $1,500 because that’s what they could afford (making the cash portion $150). Seriously. Look, I realize there is a chance Darius could be innocent and understand that his family doesn’t want to see him go to jail. Got that. However, the guy’s behavior for the past four years — supported by his record of breaking probation, refusing to turn himself in under a juvenile warrant for a different violent crime, and his sign-throwing, gun-glorifying Facebook photos — doesn’t suggest that he’s the kind of person who won’t run or who’s incapable of committing a crime like the one with which he’s been indicted. Last week’s judicial due process involved a bond hearing, not a determination of guilt or innocence. The reverend went on camera saying he wanted fairness for Darius Ewing. What in the world did he think was happening that day when the judge heard both arguments before granting the defense a 50% reduction?
The family is still trying to scrape funds together to free Ewing. Maybe Reverend Wright could find it in his heart to sell a few suits or something.
Or maybe he could give them the “due’s” [sic] he collects from his website. Oddly, Wright charges a fee to be a part of his civil rights-seeking, justice-y group, or to paraphrase his referral to that when publicly telling one woman online she needed to pay up: “their” was a “memebership” rate she needed to submit. (For what, the spellchecked version?)
Also suggested by the website is for the reader to conduct a search for Rev. Wright’s name online using terms the web admin, presumably Wright, provided. So, naturally, I obliged. Turns out he doesn’t have a very heavy amount of Google juice outside of his involvement in Justice’s case, and I was immediately pointed back to his website. (Well. That was informative.) I couldn’t find anything about his church. No schedule of his speaking events. There was his Twitter, at least, where he claims God “commission” him. (I would love to hear the story of God commissioning him to charge people membership fees to utilize similar services they can easily and independently access elsewhere for free.) His last tweet was forever ago, which is odd for a community leader, given today’s necessity for social media, especially since his target members are clearly using technology. He last parted Twitter with a fantastic message about Michael Jackson having been a “historian.” Amazingly, I never knew MJ was a historian. Good thing I took the time to visit Ron’s Twitter trail where 24 followers await his next pearls of wisdom. In a rabbit hole worth noting, his first tweet mentions Jenny, the controversial elephant from the Dallas Zoo, but not because he was worried about her welfare; he was irritated that the proposed “Tax payers monies” [do I need to keep sic-ing?] were being spent unwisely (proposal was to upgrade her living conditions or release her to sanctuary, another blog altogether). His concern, of course, only mentioned money, not the animal’s welfare. Again.
I guess I’m just bewildered as to why anyone would want to enlist the services of Rev. Ron Wright as a third party when s/he can obtain information and referrals for no membership charge elsewhere and from professional resources that are written using competent communication skills. In less than five seconds at the library, you can look up the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and all subsequent language. If Wright truly was capable of delivering the goods, his group might have secured a non-court appointed attorney who specializes in cases meeting the criteria Wright deems applicable. Likewise, can the Justice Seekers not afford to pony up 5G for bail bond after being in business for two years? You’d think the Rev would consider Darius’s treatment a top priority since he is so adamant about that in the press. Truth of the matter is Ewing’s still sitting in jail and on his second court-appointed lawyer since the case took shape (last one recused herself). The only individual who remotely benefits from this case is the reverend, who appears before reporters more than any other person legitimately involved in the courtroom drama surrounding Justice the puppy, usually peddling the name of his group along the bottom of the TV screen and rehashing his convoluted, racial message. For the record, I come from multiple generations of southern ministers who are degreed theologists, with decades upon decades of international missionary work and professional church leadership experience. Even if Wright’s poorly articulated hootin’-and-hollerin’ hadn’t raised my eyebrows, a lifetime of dealing with people who truly know how to craft religious touchdowns every Sunday morning would have eventually made it impossible for me to take this camera hog seriously.
I might dislike Rev. Wright’s modus operandi, but I support him fully when he says Darius Ewing is innocent until proven guilty. That is how we do it here, and I would have things no differently. Saying that, I’m no cheerleader for Darius Ewing based upon the evidence presented thus far, which was actually much more damning than I’d imagined it might be, but I believe it’s only fair to allow Darius his day in court and to afford him the shot to tell us the truth. Without doubt, we know Justice was brutally, fatally abused in Darius’s apartment complex. If Ewing didn’t do it and is a dog lover as his grandmother assured the media, he probably knows the felonious party and should be man enough to tell the public who committed the crime. If Darius burned Justice alive, coming forward with that truth will be the only thing that will truly set him free in the end — even if that freedom means he must pay for his crime in jail. I know it may not be a popular view, but I have no hate in my heart for Darius Ewing. Justice’s abuse angers and saddens me deeply, but hate makes it difficult to move toward resolution.
Going further, Wright should not have to deal with racial slurs being left on his voice mail any more than I should have to deal with being called a “white b**ch” by one of Ewing’s supporters. Having read derogatory comments on Darius Ewing’s Justice for Justice Facebook page from both white and black individuals, I am disappointed people feel the need to radiate racism about something that isn’t remotely about that topic. Racists of any color who are using this case as an opportunity to spread contempt should understand their commentaries detract from the root of this issue, regardless of whose side they support.
Unlike the rev, I’m not a local celebrity or a public figure, nor do I choose to put myself in front of cameras. I do, however, have the same rights and the same freedom of speech as he does, even as a regular old Joe. Rev. Wright has accomplished some good things in the past. As a watchful citizen, I encourage him to focus on uniting the community with his power instead of portraying insensitivity toward an entire movement, thus compromising the greater good. When a leader in any facet creates a detrimental environment for a cause worthy of supporting, I feel it’s against the advice of Dr. King to ignore such behavior, especially when it concerns the very things King died defending: Fairness and dignity for all. Animals included.
Again, MLK cautioned:
Never, never be afraid to do what’s right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society’s punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way.
Duly noted, Dr.
RIP, poor Sadie and Justice. May the world learn compassion through your tragedies; may your unnecessary sacrifices reveal the path toward kindness and respect for all creatures.
I knew I heard it. I’ll keep waiting. Maybe it was the hammock or something. Maybe it was a bird.
The dog didn’t move. The cats didn’t move. Russell didn’t move. I decided I was being paranoid about what happened sixteen years ago, so when the air conditioner cycled back around, burying the nocturnal world outside my window, I fell back to sleep.
But before I could rest, my mind returned to California in 1996.
The cat’s cries were obvious, no doubt about that. Our Edie kitty — a tiny, solid black female with green eyes — was panicked in the window, watching everything unfold outside. I peeked through the blinds while Edie jumped into my arms, frightened.
As quickly as I realized what was going on, I was screaming for my husband to wake up and help me stop it. We raced across the terrace in our pajamas, but we were too late. The crowd of young Marines thinned, disappeared into another apartment, and we were left alone with a young, black cat — almost identical to our own — who was gurgling its own blood, paralyzed, lacerated over the course of its whole body from being swung by its tail repeatedly and beaten against a stucco wall and a car’s hood.
I called 911. When I returned, my husband, a USMC rifle range coach, was partially slumped over the cat’s lifeless body. He’d put her out of her extreme misery. It wasn’t fair. Not to the cat. Not to him. Not to me.
Not to the woman who came crying and angry from her apartment when she realized the cat was hers.
It wasn’t fair to the other men and women of the USMC, who shared the same uniform as the men who ran like cowards when we chased them off in our underwear and night robes. There was nothing right about any of it.
Two hours later, the police finally arrived after we’d called multiple times. They gathered the remains of the cat in a bag and left. They’d be “in touch,” but nobody called, and I went on a letter-writing spree like no other. We were ridiculed by neighbors and co-workers for speaking out against what happened. They asked, “What about that guy’s wife and kids? Don’t you care about them?” Animal Control refused to take our statement because “the owner doesn’t want to press charges.” After a long battle, the murderers were charged and jailed, but somehow we were the villains. I was blown away by how little most people seemed to care, how it was the USMC that had taken action when the citizens and local authorities thought it was a non-event.
What happened sixteen years ago never gets easier to remember, but seeing hundreds of people gathered to stand against similar abuse at Justice the puppy’s candlelight vigil last week in Dallas, Texas, shows me that we as a society, as well as our law enforcement, are headed in a better direction. When I held my candle for Justice, I let it shine for Black Kitten, too.
Even though the corners can seem a little dark, the world isn’t completely horrible. Usually there’s joy lurking around the bend somewhere.
On Sunday morning, I heard the mewing again. This time, it was undeniable. Even though we aren’t married anymore, Merrin my then-husband from our younger years in California, just happened to knock on our front door at the exact time we were searching for the kitten, whose mews we’d lost in the backyard, “Do you guys know there’s a kitten crying up here?”
Shortly thereafter, we’d wrangled the wiry, gray baby from the rosebush and sat in my kitchen trying to plan how to handle the rescue from there. My mind traveled back to Black Kitten — how we’d tried to save her all those years ago and failed — and I was grateful we shared this happier moment together. I knew this gray kitten would have a much better future, even if it was spitting and biting at the time.
By Monday, we’d located the rest of the litter. They were living under a shed in the neighbors’ yard. Thinking back to the terrible storm a few weeks ago, I wondered how they’d ever survived down there. It must have been terrible for their mother, too, having kittens who were maybe a week old, trying to shelter them from the hail and the wind. The extreme rain was so harsh it flooded the interior of our own home. I wondered if she’d lost a baby. I couldn’t imagine trying to be a new mother in that environment and felt irritated by the irresponsibility of humans — again. Even so, the two starving kittens who were left at the shed came readily to us once we showed them some food. Safe. They were safe now. Russell named the three: Penn, Jillette, and Teller.
Two gray, one black. Merrin told me, “I’ll take the black one.”
It’s been such a sweet experience spending my life this week with these three kittens, who will soon be finding their own adoptive families. I can’t imagine anyone hurting something so defenseless, being capable of swinging them by their tails into a wall or setting them on fire, like Justice. Staring into their itty bitty faces, I’m glad I didn’t give up sixteen years ago when Black Kitten died. It was worth the ridicule, and I believe the apathy and taunting we encountered from others enabled us to care further — to care on behalf of those who didn’t, wouldn’t.
Black Kitten, I remember you — your memory’s in my heart always. Always. Thank you for leading me . . . here.
This Saturday at 7:30 outside Fort Worth’s City Hall, there is another vigil for a former bait dog, Nathan, who passed away from severe injuries sustained from fighting. Nathan’s memory, like that of Black Kitten and Justice, et al, serves to remind all that the struggle to increase animal rights is ongoing. Standing together in word alone will not change legislation or encourage others to quit ignoring abuse; we each have to answer to action within our communities and as groups. If you’d like to make your voice heard, follow the hyperlink here.
Last year I bought a bunch of Asiatic lilies after Easter and planted them in large pots, hoping they’d pick up again the next season. After watching my neighbors’ lilies flower early, I figured mine might not make it this year. I still hoped, though.
Sometimes, hope is all we ever have.
It’s been a rough week since Justice the puppy died. I never met him, but, like a lot of people within our rescue community, I had enormous hope for him, for his welfare, and for all of those whose lives he touched. And then . . . he was gone. What more could we hope for now? All of the love and the outpouring of support — what good did it do for him in the end?
I’ve thought about this almost exclusively since early last Saturday morning when I experienced the extreme hope I had for him vanish as quickly as it came. Hope shifted into sadness, anger, and even guilt that humankind somehow failed him.
Throughout the week, the words in the text message I received upon his death resonated, though: “Justice died. He was giving kisses and wagging his tail until the very end.” I realized none of what happened the week before was in vain, that even though I’d lost hope, Justice never did. That’s what matters. This wasn’t about me or the people hoping for his recovery; it was only about him.
The truth of the matter is that hope carries on, even in death. The memory of Justice is alive and well for all who continue to fight like he did. Until the end. Giving kisses. Wagging tails. That’s what good it did for him in the end. His life might have been riddled with cruel abuse, but he wasn’t loveless: He fought to show love, and he died knowing it.
In the shelters, on the streets, and in our neighbors’ backyards, there are many animals who’ve been shot, burned, left to die on chains, locked up in kennels for their whole lives, starving, without a kind heart ever known. Justice’s story made the news, but the abuse doesn’t begin or end with his experience alone. He was one of many, and I hope without limit that other animals will benefit from the lesson that was unfolded here at the expense of this young life lost, sadly so.
As I said before: Sometimes, hope is all we’ll ever have, but now I believe that’s not a bad thing as long as we still have it.
Preparing mentally for tonight’s candlelight vigil in Justice’s honor, I sat in the hammock with my little dog watching the clouds and feeling the chilled breeze after this morning’s storm when my attention turned to the pot of stubborn lilies.
Just as I’d hoped all this time, they finally bloomed.
Today. This day. Of all the days.
May his memory always give us HOPE.
***UPDATE 4/18/2012: Reward for information leading to conviction in Justice’s case is now $25,000.00. Justice died 4/14/2012 from injuries suffered as a result of the abuse.***
During an adoption event last weekend, one of the volunteers described Justice, the newest puppy our rescue group is fighting to save from an animal cruelty case.
Attempted strangulation. Doused in lighter fluid. Lit on fire. Found hiding behind an air-conditioning unit after a group of young men tried to kill him for fun. Luckily, a good Samaritan called 911 and extinguished the flames with a t-shirt.
Poor Justice. It’s hard to feel anything that isn’t completely primal when you see images of a blistered, badly abused pup struggling to stay alive.
Obviously, this is what severe abuse looks like. No question there. Lots of comments from outraged individuals expressed the need to understand how anyone could do this. How could a group gather to collectively torture a young puppy? What causes someone to be so heartless, to be uncaring, to think this kind of thing is acceptable or funny or entertaining? I admit, I don’t get it either.
Even so, I believe bullies aren’t innately insensitive. They learn from society, from their families, from the people who are their role models. These learned ideals — often rooted from systemic abuse — manifest themselves in various harmful behaviors. This doesn’t excuse the crime in any way, only goes to show that we need to take a closer look at prevention.
Abuse begins somewhere.
On Sunday, a local church minister encouraged his congregation to attend Easter services, during which he promised to unveil a huge surprise. When the big moment arrived, the pastor revealed a small cage on wheels with bent bars. Inside this janky-looking contraption sat a living, breathing, seventeen-year-old lion, who’d been forced to spend his life performing for the sole purpose of human entertainment. Without debate, this creature served as nothing more than slave to mankind — an unnecessary prop.
The crowd watched as the handler riled the lion into moving, defending himself for the audience’s bewilderment as the church leader — proud of himself — attempted to connect the spectacle to a message within his religious service.
While holding a crying, newborn baby lamb, the minister paced the stage near the lion, as he delivered the rest of his performance.
Public outrage followed. Some church members who witnessed Easter services defended their minister’s actions by claiming that no animals were harmed. The comments on various articles insisted this was a “lion who had been in movies.”
But there it is — the beginning of a cycle. The public accepts this dog-and-pony show as non-abusive because the scars aren’t evident. There are no blisters, no burns, no blood. They believe everything must be fine because that is how it appears on the outside. In itself, I understand how someone, without knowing differently, might fail to see the picture in its entirety. In this case, groupthink perpetuates the cycle and, as in the case of Justice the puppy, the crowd enjoys watching for entertainment purposes, unable to grasp the undertones of extreme psychological abuse. I’m sure if some of them realized what was truly going on behind the curtain, they would be horrified.
Sadly, some of the people in commentary expressed irritation that the lion and the lamb made news. They claimed these were only animals, that the message was delivered. So what. Pfft. Who cares? “Don’t these people have something bigger to complain about?”
To those folk, I’d ask if they value their lives, the lives of their families. I’m sure they must. Animal abuse, which begins at the point we accept discouragement of proper care, is directly connected to many well documented, violent crimes against humanity — rape, torture, murder, etc. By embracing various levels of abuse as “OK” and “not OK,” we’re segueing further into a world where people who commit crimes against creatures don’t signal portents that can be corrected and addressed before affecting our children, for instance.
This afternoon, though, with his undeniable scars visible for all to witness, Justice waits another day to see if he will live tomorrow. Then tomorrow, he’ll wait again. With thousands of dollars in reward money offered for the capture of his attackers, I hope someone will be brave enough to step forward. Until then, all we can do is hope, demonstrate love, and donate for his extensive care.
Let’s begin something new now: Teach our children and educate others about understanding the abuse cycle, where it begins, and how to end it together. Kindly and with compassion. Ask yourself: What harm is there in that?
For information on how you can help donate to save Justice’s life, and the lives of other dogs being treated and rescued from cruelty and neglect, please visit: http://www.dfwrescueme.org/Donate/.