Hey everyone!!
It has been a WHILE. I can’t believe my last update to this thing was in January…so much has happened since then, I don’t even know how I will remember everything. This all has been really hard for me to talk about. For months after returning home in March, whenever it would come up I would start rambling and rambling about it all until I was almost in tears. But now I’m ready to tell my story.
It’s been a hard year–in more ways than one. In addition to trying to start my own businesses and gain the control over my life that I’ve been craving for, like, ever, I tried starting a dog rescue with a couple other people in Guatemala. This was all inspired by my horrible experience with the “shelter” I was volunteering at for a month called Animal Aware, which I wrote about in previous posts, but hell, let’s catch you all up from the beginning. Because to me, it’s all one long saga, and I know my perspective has changed since first writing about it. But also feel free to skip over anything that you’ve already read. (I mean I guess you could do that anyway…you don’t really need my permission.)
I began volunteering at Animal Aware because I care deeply about doing something about the overpopulation of animals, especially in low-income areas. In the future I want to open up international, low-cost spay/neuter clinics, and I thought it was about time to start educating myself. So I found a shelter in Guatemala, where I was traveling, and decided to go there for a couple weeks and help out.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that this was one of the most terribly run shelters like, ever. There were malnourished dogs full of worms that weren’t getting treatment. There were dogs fighting. There were very, very sick dogs. My friend and I had to sneak dogs out to receive medical care and watched way too many puppies die. There was no record of the animals, and they had no idea how many they had or if they had gotten all of their vaccinations. Animal Aware was disorganized, neglectful, and for me, incredibly traumatizing. I extended my stay there to help out, because I couldn’t abandon those poor dogs. Even though I was in a termite-infested, mouse-ridden, black mold-covered sad excuse for an apartment, I couldn’t leave them.
Not only were the animals treated poorly, but so were the volunteers. We were locked onsite after 4pm, which gave us literally no time to even buy groceries, as it took a good half hour just to get to the nearest shop, and we were pretty much working from 7am-4pm. If we ever DID leave, we had to hop the fence–and then got in trouble for it. We got blamed when dogs died, even after doing every possible thing we could do to save them, when the owner literally didn’t care what happened to them. We spent our own money on vet visits, and got in trouble for it. I was administering medication and shots without having any idea what I was really doing, because there was no one else to do it. Eventually, my friend got kicked out of the shelter during the week that she went home for Thanksgiving–she was, according to the owner, “knowledge aggressive,” which basically meant that she was threatened by her animal expertise and didn’t like when she had different ideas on how to take care of the animals. Anyway. I packed up her stuff, called a car to pick me up, and I got out of there. Watching a puppy dying of distemper during all of this was just the icing on the cake.
I found refuge in Antigua, which at this point feels like my home away from home. Several days later, my friend met me, and we spent days in desperation, trying to figure out what the hell to do about this situation. We kept documenting dogs, because we didn’t know what else to do. A few days later, I returned home.
Not long after that, my friend met someone–a friend of a friend–who wanted to help us. And so they met up, and the ball got rolling, and suddenly the three of us were starting something.
Over the next weeks and months, we planned nonstop. Emails, phone calls, to every person or organization that we thought could possibly help us figure out what to do. As it turned out, really our only option to shut down Animal Aware was to open up our own rescue, which would then intake all the dogs at Aware after getting them shut down; otherwise, they would be euthanized because there is literally nowhere to put them. There are already too many dogs on the street, and they get poisoned routinely to keep the populations down. Shelters and rescues don’t exist there like they do in the US; there are a few, but it’s a very different structure and all of them are struggling (which is also true of the ones in the US).
Things were going well; we had people ready to investigate, we had all that lined up. We just needed to open up our own place. Which was ALSO going great. Our third team member–let’s call him Larry–was apparently super rich, and was willing to invest a lot of money into opening this rescue up, because he said he’d been wanting to do something like that for a long time. Perfect! Sounds great.
He lives in Guatemala, and the three of us were working remotely, trying to organize a build, all kinds of things. I was in charge of things that I’ve never been in charge of before–social media, graphics, advertising, a lot of communication…basically, I had a ton of responsibility and not a great idea about how to do any of it. Which was fine, because this was supposed to be a learning experience for all of us.
In January, my friend and I went to Antigua to work on our project, which we had by this point named Mayan Dog Rescue. We moved into Larry’s place, which became not only our home, but our workspace as well.
Things started out mostly great. There was another guy there, who was going to help with construction, and then the three of us were overseeing everything. Larry’s roommate, however, was a giant dickbag. Seriously. He was the worst. And he and Larry did NOT get along. They were both really mean to each other, and I didn’t like that side of Larry at all, but I figured that it was just because they hated each other so much. Larry’s roommate moved out soon after we moved in, and explicitly warned us to STAY AWAY FROM LARRY–that he is a sociopath and will ruin us. Ooookay. Of course, he also interrupted a business meeting I was having to say that, so all I did was chuckle awkwardly and say thanks, and say goodbye to him, trying to smooth the whole thing over.
Otherwise, however, things were good. We were accomplishing a lot, making a lot of progress and contacts, and had even started on the build.
Except…then there was a woman who had worked with Larry in the past, who was going to be helping us with a lot of administration work on our project. But some weird thing happened with borrowing a car: basically, a lot of people had been irresponsible, but she wasn’t one of them–she had literally tried to get people in contact with each other and be a helpful connecting force–and Larry got in trouble, and blamed EVERYTHING on her. It was insane. The whole time, I was trying to reason with him, but it didn’t matter, he was just like, NOPE I AM DETERMINED TO HATE HER AND RUIN HER LIFE. Sooo this should have been a red flag–well really it was one, but we needed him, so we kept working with him.
We took in some dogs that needed homes. There was one mama dog from the street that was sick, and we took her in along with her nine puppies. Then, a girl contacted us that was volunteering at Animal Aware, and said she had been working with shelters across the globe and had never seen animals in such poor conditions before. We met her the next day. She ended up bringing two three-legged dogs from there to us. One she was going to adopt, and the other had a broken back that wasn’t treated at Animal Aware, and had been thrown in a cage for a month instead. Her back had re-healed improperly, and she needed a leg amputated. Our vet did all this. If we had left her at Aware, she would have suffered for a long time and probably died of sepsis from her infected leg.
Larry was all for this at the beginning. Then he started to hate the dogs. And blamed us for taking them in, even though we’d all agreed on it.
There was more–so much more. There were two other dogs that didn’t have homes, and Larry blamed us for taking them (again, he had agreed to it) but then took them over and decided to “train” them to “guard him” up on the mountain. And did not train them well–even I could see that. And I’m no dog trainer. They were SCARED. They didn’t feel safe. That was why they were barking.
Then, one night he yelled at me. For what? I still don’t know. Not doing my job, I think, was what he was trying to say, or not doing it well enough? I don’t know. Instead of making suggestions about how to do my (unpaid) job better, he just YELLED at me for not doing it good enough. (And by the way, he actually wasn’t good at any of this stuff and couldn’t do it any better than me. He was just a big talker.) That night, I left the situation and went to bed.
And then, a little while later, it happened again.
And then again. This time, in front of one of our dedicated volunteers. About a twenty minute screaming rant, directed at me. About what? Again, no idea. I moved out that night.
Soon after, my friend took all the dogs and we moved into a place–a very very very very nice place, that belonged to someone we knew. We thought things would be better if we lived somewhere else. NOPE. Once Larry lost control over us, he would just yell at us over the phone, or come over to our place to yell at us. He would tell people that were going up on the mountain and doing construction that we sat around all day doing nothing, that we were lazy, when we literally NEEDED to be in the city to meet with people, have internet, etc. It was ridiculous.
Larry became abusive, and I don’t think to this day he even knows it. Everything is someone else’s fault–he’s never taken responsibility for anything, at least not that I’ve seen.
Not long after this, Larry got mad and decided to kick us out of Mayan Dog Rescue. Which was honestly HILARIOUS, because we had done EVERYTHING for it. Literally had done all the work. He’d done nothing, just talked a lot about how great he was. He took my designs, all the work we did, and kicked us out. I immediately shut down the website and the social media that I had done—which felt horrible, after spending so many months perfecting everything. But it was the only way to protect myself.
Of course, he never told us this directly. Instead, he contacted everyone that we had worked with and told them that we were no longer part of the team. This was all happening on my flight back home, by the way. So I’m getting tons of texts and calls from my friends and contacts, who were only with the organization because of US, certainly not because of Larry, asking if it was true. I was literally on the phone with our lawyers during my layovers, trying to figure out what Larry could legally do. Had we been further along in the process, this wouldn’t have been allowed–we were making a board, and we were all the highest on the board, and would have had to have been voted off. But the board wasn’t finalized yet. So it was Larry’s money and that was it. He had total control. We were off the team.
Larry then accused of us taking $15,000 from him, even though we had returned EVERYTHING that we had used of his, and that money was all in the organization, which HE was now running. Not us. He would–still does, in fact–badmouth us to everyone he sees, and threatened us for a while with legal action. Luckily, this is beginning to simmer down–I’m out of the country, and people are beginning to realize how horrible he is and aren’t taking him seriously.
Soon, other people began leaving the organization. Our good friends, the builders, left because Larry ended up just being concerned about making money. Lots of others left, for similar reasons–his abusiveness, the way he treats Guatemalan people (horribly), the way he treats dogs (not well!)…it was just a mess.
The best (ha, ha) part was, Larry had agreed to pay for the dogs we took in. But once we left, he changed his mind. All the vet bills, food, etc, was suddenly on my friend (who is still in Guatemala, by the way, caring for street dogs). We are backpackers. We don’t HAVE money.
At this point, I was home in Rochester, but I needed to help out my friend who was still there, taking care of all these dogs and more. I eventually found a local rescue that was willing to take in the seven puppies we had left (one had died, and one was adopted in Guatemala) and Rosie, the dog with the broken back, into foster homes. So I jumped at the chance.
That night, I bought tickets for my friend and I to go to Guatemala and back. I had to pay not only for our flights, but for the dogs’ flights as well, plus their crates and paperwork. It was thousands and thousands of dollars, and I had some help from a Facebook fundraiser, for which I am eternally grateful. I didn’t raise enough to pay for all of it, obviously, but it helped. Everything helps.
THE JOURNEY
And then, before we knew it, we were loading eight dogs into crates and bringing them to the Guatemala City Airport. Our journey was about 30 hours long, and I barely slept for about 48 hours, and I can honestly say that it was one of hardest things I’ve ever done. I’ve never been more stressed or exhausted in my entire life.
First, we flew from Guatemala City to Mexico City. But that in itself was an ordeal. Even just getting to the airport was hard–we had to leave at about 3am, and had a shuttle that the dogs did NOT fit nicely into. They’d never really been in crates before, and they were SO SCARED–drooling and peeing everywhere.
We finally got to the airport…but then we had to get INSIDE. Somehow. Luckily, a couple of guys helped us (for some quetzales, of course).
Just checking in one dog at the airport is hard enough. Eight dogs? People were STARING at us, no doubt wondering what the hell we were thinking. The pups were terrified, my friend was so sad to be leaving her babies that she raised, and I was sick to my stomach from stress and lack of sleep. Eventually–after all the bags were checked in, they took the dogs, and we were finally allowed to go through security and board.
I passed out hard on that flight. I was snoring before boarding finished.
We arrived in Mexico City a couple of hours later. I woke up much happier than when I got on the flight. We cheerfully headed to baggage claim to pick up our dogs–who all came out ON THE BELT. Like where your suitcases come out. So we were like running and chasing them down and lifting the crates together. It was pretty crazy. Finally we got all the dogs, and everyone seemed happy and healthy (well, miserable and healthy, but you know.)
Then it was time for Mexican customs!! Even though we were only passing through the Mexico City airport for our layover, they still needed to check in all the dogs as if they were really entering the country. Not only did we have to deal with a lot of paperwork bullshit, but they had to inspect every dog, and then my friend had to clean every cage with this special sanitizer they gave us. At least the guy working with the dogs was really nice, and seemed to like dogs. He was understanding when they were scared, and didn’t get mad when it took me a while to get a few of them out of their crates.
After about an hour, this bit was over. Then we had to get the dogs from where we were, through actual customs (the inspector guys had given us a piece of paper for the customs officials) and then through the airport, to the check in for the next flight. Luckily there are people to help with that–but they expect tips, and I had NO pesos on me. I did find an ATM and gave them money, guys, don’t worry. But these guys each took two dogs on a roller thing, and knew exactly where to go to check in for our flight, which was amazing because this is a very confusing airport.
We thought we would be able to check in right away…but they told us we had to wait a few hours. So I was like okayyyy what the hell are we going to do with eight dogs for the next few hours? There was nothing TO do other than push them against the wall in that area, camp out, take turns getting food and going to the bathroom, and hope no one yelled at us. We got lucky, because no one seemed to care that we were there.
Finally, several hours later, we could check the dogs in for the flight!! Again, the people doing this were so nice. They had to inspect the dogs AGAIN, but the guy doing it was so lovely so it wasn’t terrible.
After that was done, we had some free time before our flight. WHAT? So we explored the airport and got tequila samples at all the shops. Our flight was very silly, and we were loud and laughed a LOT.
And then, hours later, we landed in the US, in JFK!! But then of course I got flagged at immigration, and that took an extra half hour, and then nobody knew where we were supposed to pick the dogs up, and then getting through customs was an ordeal because they told me I had the wrong paperwork and it was a whole thing. So stressful. And by this point, we were SO exhausted and just wanted to sleep.
But unfortunately, we still had another leg of the journey left.
After lots of scrambling trying to find each other, the rescue that was bringing us to Rochester finally found us. We walked the dogs, gave them food and water, and then packed them tightly into a van. And then we were off. We were so tired that it felt like the longest drive ever…and when we finally made it to Rochester at about 8am, I was tingly and dizzy from lack of sleep. I vaguely remember stumbling into the door and falling into my bed and sleeping for about eight hours, getting up and eating dinner, and then sleeping for like another ten, through the night.
Our journey from Guatemala to Rochester was roughly 30 hours, plus we didn’t sleep the night before…which means we were awake for about, I don’t know, 48 hours? I’m pretty sure that that was literally the most tired I’ve ever been in my life, because of course, it’s not JUST the lack of sleep, but also the extreme stress of doing a journey like that with eight dogs. The whole time, all I was thinking was, “What if we don’t get through this customs? What if something happens to the dogs? What do we do next? How are we ever going to do this?” But somehow, some way, we did it. I honestly have no idea how.
So yeah. That was the last big trip I went on. Now, I’m living in Rochester, writing, editing, narrating audiobooks, dogsitting, working in an office for a few hours a week, and teaching English online to Chinese kids. I’m trying to stay in control of my life, trying to do what I want to do, and be who I want to be, all while saving as much money as possible right now. I miss traveling–I really want to go on another trip soon, and I want to write about my adventures, because hey, that was fun for me. But right now, my adventures are a little different, and I’m okay with that. For now. Soon, I’ll be traveling. Don’t worry.
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