*~Back to Virginia~* Late 2002 After Kipling's death, I needed more than ever to be back in my hometown again, near my son who was safely ensconced with old high school friends of his and their parents. I started making plans to move home On the thinnest shoestring anyone ever knew, I packed up my babies and my things, and moved back into a modest little 2-bedroom townhouse again, where the kittens and Tommy, Kathleen & Aimee throve. They loved the tile floor that covered the whole of the lower floor, and the bare wood floors upstairs. They turned the whole house into their personal skating/hockey ring and we all loved it. My son Ryan moved in too, and for awhile all went well. But it wasnt long before again, the ugly reality of condition vs. employment became an issue and Ryan couldn't handle the bills alone. One day we awoke to an eviction notice on the door, and I knew it was happening again, and I had no one to turn to. My biggest panic were my kitties, so in a very desperate move for them, I called PETA. I didn't have a choice at that point but to at least, save them from this collapse I seemed destined to undergo. Marta of PETA came out with a friend, and helped to collect my little ones to keep for me, safe at PETA headquarters, which she didn't mke a habit of doing for people, but for 11 such sweet and helpless cats, she and PETA made an exception. My heart just withered watching them be caged and placed in the truck, and I felt I was losing everything else I hadnt lost in the arson. "At least", I told myself in an effort to remind and console myself, "they are safe and with kind people while I try to rectify my situation. My son moved back with his friends while I began the many months of homelessness living out of my van, trying to adjust to living that way, while only finding the help I needed in the worst of the crime-ridden areas of Virginia Beach. I didn't belong in those areas. I wasn't a criminal. I wasn't a drug addict. I wasn't an alcoholic. I wasn't schitzophrenic. I was just...climbing a mountain that kept crumbling under my feet. Many times I went to PETA to visit with my cats for hours at a time, talking with Marta and seeing howvery popular my little ones had been becoming there among the staff. It warmed my heart with deep gratitude knowing that while I felt the hardship of my situation, PETA was helping me to spare them this as much as possible. After this next episode in my life though, I would never be able to get to PETA to visit them again before they were adopted away to a wonderful family in Washington State together. The arrest over the little dog Kaylee's well-being laid the rest of my spirit to waste. It effected me badly both financially and emotionally. I had met a woman who drank morning, noon & night. She was attractive enough, but just didn't care enough to try. She had a little dog named Kaylee. A little 10-old Sheltie who had been living with Tracee on the street all that time, infested with fleas, suffering the heat, and being fed only the handouts others gave Tracee for her. Kaylee wasnt up on her shots. She was often left unattended while Tracee drank heavily with her friends, though Tracee claimed to love her. I started helping Tracee by agreeing to let Kaylee come with me and stay cool in my van as it did have a fair A/C system though the vehicle had over 200,000 miles on it. But it only got 5.6 miles per gallon and I couldn't get it fixed. Tracee welcomed these reprieves from responsibility, and though I dearly cared for little Kaylee, these days drained me further of the ability to keep gas in my tank. I made roses out of palm leaves and sold them for donations at the beach to try to maintain food and gas. Kaylee rode shotgun, clearly more comfortable and happy. She came to love me a great deal, as I brushed her lovingly, soothed her and fed her good food, clipped her grossly-neglected claws to neat manageable lengths, and let her sleep uninterrupted by drunken war whoops and jostling careless people. One day I had to make a choice however, as Tracee was growing petulant and hostile on the days when I could not take Kaylee with me due to appointmenst or lack of gas to run the A/C. Finally I took a stand and told Tracee that she needed to take care of Kaylee. The poor little dog, so gentle, could barely walk, needed medical attention and her person's attention. I left Tracee about a month to do this. One day I came to the place everyone in the homeless community would go to to do laundry, make phone calls and shower. There stood Kaylee alone in the front on a very hot day. I hadnt seen her in a couple of weeks, but what I saw shocked me. Kaylee's fur had been falling out by the handsful. She was bare from the middle of her body (horizontally as she'd stand), and when I picked her up to hug and kiss her and set her back to her paws again, her little back legs collapsed and she could not get back to them, though she struggled. I was alarmed. I looked from Kaylee to the window and saw Tracee sitting primly in the air conditioning within, having fallen asleep while reading a letter from her abusive boyfriend who was in jail. I couldn't believe it. Kaylee was falling apart while this woman who claimed to love her never bothered to pick the poor little dog up and carry her 1 mile to the nearest vet and beg their help on Kaylee's behalf. She had let her grow too weak to continue. Right then and there, I had to make another choice. I couldnt call the police and make a report on Tracee as I knew Kaylee would be placed in the City Pound if Tracee were arrested, where no doubt her lack of immunities would doom her to death there in her fragile condition. I picked Kaylee up, wrapped her in a soft light blanket and carried her all the way to PETA for help. I signed a paper claiming Kylee as my own so she could receive medical help, and she was taken in there. I left feeling I'd done the only right thing for Kaylee. Later I learned to my grief tnhat even PETA could not save Kaylee, her condition was so hopeless at that point, and she was euthanized kindly, among PETA friends who cared for her. I, however, was arrested on a felony charge of theft of a dog once Tracee found out, and jailed. It caused further eroding of my ability to stand, and thrive, and eventually it did go to court. A plea bargain was reached, the fines are out of my ability to pay, and I still am serving community service, living in an apartment with a room mate who save dmy very life by taking me in while I try to finish healing and re-enter my own vocational field. During this time, a little abused dog has joined me who now lives blissfully happy and spoiled. Her name used to be Belle-Belle when I met her out on a dirty old country junkyard where ticks covered her and she limped from a beating sustained by a former owner that had broken her little back leg. She was given to me legitimately with paperwork when the crack-addicted boy she belonged to was evicted himself, and she is called Bella Mia (my pretty) now, and OH does she know she is loved. So now it is just Bella and I. But...there is not a day goes by when I do not think of my little ones so far away now, and cry for that further devastating loss to me. I know they must be very happy, but I know too, that cats never forget a friend, and I know they think of me too, in the secrecy of their thoughts, often. And I wonder, do they wonder why I never returned? Do they think I dont still love them? Do they think I just..walked away from them? I pray to God they dont think this. I pray He tells them the truth as it is. I pray He lets them know everyday when they rest on my mind, how I feel, what Im thinking, and all the love that will live forever in me, for them, and how terribly much I miss them all, all their sweet faces. Now where do I go from here? (Just click on the graphic and it will take you to Paypal, to our little Outer Bohemia account just set up (me) and the Five Angels Arson Fallout Relief fund, should you choose to or be able to help even a little. Please dont feel badly if you cannot. Prayers to your higher power & positive thoughts will also be very deeply appreciated and needed.) Back to The Gang ~~~~~~~ Next to Songs of Beauty