I wrote my mom about the animal hoarding and abuse. I didn’t use those terms. I used “I” statements. I tried to reach her emotionally. Fucking email got sent before I was finished so I had to just keep typing before I was done and had to send a second part. Because of that error, the writing is very raw. I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I feel like I might have a panic attack now though.
I still have flashbacks about the animals. Especially when I felt like I was doing more harm than good. Neutering male cats by shoving their head into a boot and using promethazine injection which made them drowsy/drunk and did not actually knock them out. Pulling a dead, rotting dog carcass out from under the house in Beeville and then subsequently disposing it in a dumpster. The endless grave digging in kaleche clay, with a freezer sometimes full of dead kittens. The horrible, incurable diarrhea and upper respiratory infection that was a plague to the entire population. Recurring ringworm infection. Fleas. Ticks. Walking out into the garage without pants on would cause fleas to jump all over your legs. The stink of bleach mixed with urine. The piles of cat filth in every corner and along all the walls, in the hallways. Finding diarrhea on my clothes that were inside a closed dresser drawer.