It would be an ordinary basking day for the spiny and the green
Lizards who sun on the rocks and the fences
We would beat the palms of our hands on the opacity of windows
Before we opened them to warn off
night so late that morning is just a nap’s distance
The fans would beat their wings
Now while we can
Let us forsake
all our wasted days.
The summer of 2018 was hard on us. We lost beloved kitten after beloved kitten. People in the community who fostered kittens talked about PTSD and loss.
The agony of hope and grief was indelible, but so too was the change in my experience with veterinarians.
Some refused to care for the kittens; others failed to tell us what was really killing them. I had always thought that veterinarians were doctors for animals, with the same abiding principles of integrity and common good.
That is what I thought before.
Now I know that for many it is just an income stream, a path to selling things in order to make a living.
I think about that summer. It was a bad summer for panleuk. There was a terrible tragedy unfolding for the most vulnerable among us. Back then, the people were ok, but the wee kittens had no chance.
Now I think about it because the pandemic we face this summer is counted in human lives.
Let us all hope and pray
That the people we trust with our lives
Are in this for the right reasons
And for the distance.
In what may come as a surprise to very few, the top ten riskiest jobs in terms of possible COVID-19 exposure are patient-facing roles in healthcare.
— Read on blog.healthjobsnationwide.com/10-healthcare-roles-top-riskiest-list/
While my son brushes his teeth I take the number of people who have died by now from Covid-19 in the United States and divide it by our total population
Then I find what Day Italy had the same ratoo
Then I take the number of people who died in Italy today
And divide it by the total population
Then multiple that decimal by our total population
By this rough equation
Three weeks from now our fatalities will bave
Risen to 18,000
I could not tell you a name for
the pallet of this one night sky
Less than the usual number in the airspace threaded between San Antonio and Austin
And a single small snake down below
Licking its way across rough cement
Most likely non-venomous, but
Who can tell
When things are still so
I have been having the mildest of stress dreams–quirky, bureaucratic hotel check ins, attempts to gather the hard-to-shepherd, things washed away. I know why the dreams have come, and I doubt they will leave me soon, even if the heat and intensity of a gathering sun should cause them to lose their inevitable grip and dissipate
I turn to morning songs and croak out broken praises
Think I should listen to the Gospel, but chose Isaiah instead
Because these are old
And New Testament times
And we are all in wont
of fierce faces
Isaiah 2:16 KJV
 And upon all the ships of Tarshish, and upon all pleasant pictures.
A couple years ago my family went through a pandemic. It was a bad year for kitten parvo or panleukopenia, and we were kitten fosters.
We lost them all and watched the feral kittens at a local park disappear one by one.
It was devastating. Some shelters were euthanizing kittens on arrival. It changed everyone who was involved.
And I stopped fostering kittens. My kids couldn’t take it anymore.
Everything felt normal on the outside that summer. Humans all around us lived totally unaware of the chaos and brutal death we experienced.
I think about that summer every day. The numbers on this pandemic are not as catastrophic as the panleukopenia, but each death represents a wound to family, friends, and community.
I believe in hand sanitizer and sterile fields, but I believe in our eternal nature more.
We need to pray, to sing loud to God. We need to make our lives count for something eternal
Every day we have