Saturday morning is supposed to be a time to sleep in, or the very least to not get up any earlier than I do for work. Two Satruday’s ago, my alarm went off at the ungodly hour of 5:30 AM as I had the honor of playing a (very) small role as part of a much larger army to welcome close to 30 dogs who arrived in Miami on a cargo flight from San Juan Puerto Rico.
Morning is not my jam. I am a 7AM during the week kinda gal, so 5:30 AM = getting up earlier than for work which required 3 alarms, coffee machine programming, clothes ironing the night before, and the setting out of 6 dog bowls, various meds for 4 of my 6 fosters, and the three kinds of foods that make up each feeding for the current foster crew. I had to meet President Pam at 8AM in SW Broward, a ½ hour drive from my house. There was not a minute to spare. I somehow made it in time, jumped into the Pambulance and off to Miami we went.
We arrived at the Cargo Facility they dogs were flying to and immediately spotted two other ladies who looked as if they were waiting for dogs too. A quick “hello” and we learned that they were indeed there to pick up dogs, and one of the two had helped load the dogs in San Juan MUCH earlier that AM and had somehow caught another flight to Miami before the dogs arrived and was here to meet those dogs.
“Cool”, I thought “suddenly, getting up at 5:30 doesn’t seem quite so bad.” It kinda put a little smile on my face that I got to be part of something a little bigger than us making the world a little better of a place.
And then things got even a little bit cooler – Big Dog Ranch showed up with their bus.
I had never seen the Big Dog Ranch bus before and as a girl from PA, seeing any sort of large diesel powered motor equipment arrive, graphically wrapped to shout to the world that dogs were being helped was something to put an even bigger smile on my face. The Big Dog Ranch guy had come down from Loxahatchee, and he was there to get 13 dogs, and then load them in his great big Ford F550 Diesel bus, with the seats taken out, to drive them to safety.
Pleasantries ensued between everyone waiting, all under the watchful eye of the security of the cargo facility who was protecting the literal red line between “waiting” and “receiving” like a national border and was none too pleased that I had my phone out and was pointing it toward the cargo area ready to stealthily document the process to tell these dogs story to our community.
Word finally came that our precious cargo was being unloaded and in the blink of an eye, a pallet jack was carrying a pallet with 20+ crates stacked together in a tetris formation, all covered with a cargo net, out to the receiving area.
In that tetris formation were crates filled with dogs; some alone, some in pairs, of dogs who had literally been rescued in Puerto Rico. As I watched the dogs come out it occurred to me that these dogs were by people we would never meet, fostered by people we would never meet, who trusted us, this group of people THEY had never met, to give these dogs the chance at a life they deserved, all of whom would likely have been put down in Puerto Rico without rescue.
As I watched, oddly overcome with emotion by the process, my mind raced on about how this whole thing had come together….These sweet souls were stacked on top of each other in crates, literally had zero control of what had happened to them, probably scared out of their mind, and had made this incredible journey via a network of people who only knew and trusted each other via social media, text messages, and the underground network of rescue. Thanks to that network, this random group of people had arrived at a cargo facility on a Saturday AM in Miami to give of their time and their individual groups resources to save some dogs from Puerto Rico.
The cargo folks began to break apart the gigantic pallet containing our precious cargo and started bringing out the crates a few at a time. By some stroke of luck, our two doxies (Later named Albert and Melina) were first off in one crate. We were ready to grab our one crate and get the heck out of there and headed back north to Fr. Lauderdale (as we had to come back to Miami in a few hours to meet another flight!) but then realized the Big Dog Ranch guy was there by himself and was supposed to get 13 dogs so it seemed to be the neighborly thing to do and stay to help.
By the time all was said and done, the Big Dog Ranch guy didn’t have 13 dogs, he had 13 CRATES of dogs coming up to 18 dogs by our count (receiving dogs as part of a larger transport, and confirming if those are your dogs based on a bunch of pictures that may or may not look like the dogs in front of you is a totally different story for another day made all the more fun by the fact that none of the pallet jack guys spoke English….) We helped the Big Dog Ranch guy get his crates loaded into his bus and he was on his way back to Loxatchee and we were on our way back to Ft. Lauderdale.
A drive to Miami, pick up some dogs, drive back north to Ft. Lauderdale. Done and Done.
On the surface, some people had come to a cargo facility to pick up some dogs from Puerto Rico on a Saturday morning. In reality, those couple hours of strangers making small talk while waiting on some cargo represented the columation of hours of sacred work by a silent army who works around the clock to make miracles and give 2nd chances to dogs who without that army, have no chance.
From my limited knowledge of how this process works – here is what had to happen to make this all happen….
On the Puerto Rican side, someone found the dogs. They reached out for rescue to help. The rescue reached out for a foster. A foster was identified. The dogs were moved to that foster. That rescues fundraisers did something to raise money to vet those dogs. Those dogs were vetted, quarantined, and issued health certificates. The Puerto Rican rescuers then reached out to their contacts stateside to see who would take the dogs. Various Florida rescues agreed to take various dogs. A date to send them from PR was coordinated. Tickets were booked. Fosters began that bitter sweet time when you know you are going to have to let a dog go, but you know it is for something better. Transport was arranged to the airport. Water and food were taped to the crates. Medical certificates were sealed inside plastic envelopes and taped to crates. Dog were loaded. A plane took off.
On this side a plane landed and was met by people from the various South Florida rescues who had been pre-organized to give up their Saturday mornings to help. A bus was driven two hours south to meet 13 dogs which turned into 18 dogs. Vet appointments were arranged on this end to welcome the dogs off their flights to be examined. Fosters were lined up on this end to take the dogs when they were medically cleared. Photos were taken and turned over to the the rescues Social Media and Fundraising people to cover the intake costs of these dogs so that the entire process could happen again to get more dogs out – likely the very next weekend.
The whole cycle works (somewhat) flawlessly by people who have never met each other and who are not getting paid for any of it to save dogs.
Those of us who are involved in rescue, we are asked constantly “how can you be involved with rescue? It has to be so heartbreaking…”
To us, the question that should be asked is “how could you pass up an opportunity to be involved in something so much greater than you that is fueled 100% on love, compassion, and generosity?”
The answer is you can’t, or at least I can’t. Even when you have to get up at 5:30 in the morning to do so.
