First, there was Handsome. This combination of rippling muscles and tenderness, like the canine reincarnation of André the Giant, took me for a long hike around the grounds of the Aiken County Animal Shelter and introduced me to this new world.
Then, I met Kenobi, more of a base jumper than a Jedi, who leaps and pirouettes in his kennel like a furry tornado, yet when he gets to the wooded trails, ambles along with the calm contemplation of a country gentleman.
And finally, Suzie—the wiggling heartbreaker, who bears dozens of deep scars on her prancing legs and soft muzzle, the product of an unconscionable backstory, but in spite of this, radiates warmth and eyes that have chosen hope over sorrow. Since those first walks, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and playing with countless others. The shelter on Wire Road is often in flux, a revolving door of new additions and residents who’ve found forever homes, but there is one constant: the folks of FOTAS who dedicate themselves to improve the quality of life for these stray and surrendered animals. From square meals, to rollling in the play yard, to scratches behind the ears, many of the animals’ faces take on a peaceful glow, maybe for the first time in their lives.
Since I began volunteering, I’ve fallen in love with all of those faces, but I harbor
a secret. I wish they knew how selfish I am. I wish they could understand that whatever small measure of help I give them, what I receive in return is, conservatively, tenfold.
Long ago—funny how the older we get, the more we measure time in adages rather than round numbers—I was diagnosed with severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Most of the time, I’m able to manage symptoms through therapy, but I do have periods where my condition becomes nearly debilitating, especially with major life changes.
Recently, my wife accepted a position teaching English at Aiken Tech and we moved here from Costa Rica. As an English professor myself, I’m lucky enough to work fully online, but suddenly, I found myself in an unfamiliar town, without friends or any physical place I needed to be. Free time and an idle mind aren’t great bedfellows for someone with my mental proclivities, so I needed to find a sense of purpose. Fast.
I’d avoided shelters before. As a man who blames errant eyelashes for tears during a Sarah McLachlan commercial, I assumed I’d be broken by the longing stares of pitifully lost dogs. The first few steps with Handsome, Kenobi, and Suzie changed everything. They aren’t lost, but in transition. FOTAS is a bridge, and I’m thankful to now count myself as one of the many girders that support these animals as they move from a closed chapter to the new, loving family waiting on the other side.
I urge you to experience this yourself. Come meet the FOTAS folks and tumble
with their fuzzy friends. Consider adopting or volunteering. Their lives are in our hands.
And remember: whatever comfort you give them, they just might provide you the same, if not more, in return.
By Drew Attana, FOTAS Volunteer
