Tales of True North #4: Alana Lemckert
True North is what guides everything we do - and don’t do - at REW. It’s an internal compass with our deepest-held beliefs, values and principles at its pole. In these True North Tales, our CREW share the stories that they believe echo what we all stand for.
Giving up.
How goodbye can sometimes be the greatest gift of all.
Fourteen years ago, a tiny bundle of energy-packed black fur came into my life. I named him Batman, and he almost instantly completed my family. I know it’s a cliché to say that home is where your heart is, but that not-so-Bruce-Wayne immediately stole mine - and showed me what home truly means.
A few weeks of hanging with the Batman and I just knew that I wanted to be a part of making homes out of the hearts of others just like me. It wasn’t long before I adopted Falcor. Her owner was about to post her on Craigslist after deciding that she just wasn’t ready to take on the responsibility of dog ownership, so my home became hers.
But there are only so many four-legged furballs you can squeeze between your own four walls, (particularly in Vancouver these days). I needed a new strategy if I really wanted to make a difference.
Rescue me.
I started volunteering for a local non-profit Rescue. They were bringing in over 100 dogs who were due to be euthanized in shelters in California. They say you can’t change the world, but you can change the world for one dog. I’ve never stopped telling myself that as I’ve dived again and again into the hardest and greatest thing I’ve ever tackled - fostering.
How do you describe fostering a fuzzbucket? I guess you could say it’s like lending someone your heart for months at a time — and being ok with not necessarily ever getting it back. Fostering doesn’t just save lives. That’s only one side of the coin. It also changes lives. I would know, it changed mine. And I’ve seen it change hundreds of others.
Many folks I talk to say they could never foster because they can’t stand the thought of having to give up the dog they have no doubt they’ll fall in love with. And - believe me - it happens a LOT. Yet when you find the strength to part ways, in exactly the same moment you complete someone else’s family. The adoption meetings and pictures that follow are so worth the tears shed saying “see ya later, pooch”.
In my time with Rescue, we’ve found furever homes for over 1,000 dogs, and counting. But there are two doggos in particular who left an indelible imprint on me.
My exes.
Merlin. A tiny albino chihuahua found wandering up a dirt road during the Napa Valley wildfires in 2017. When I opened his crate he took one look at me, climbed into my arms, and stayed there for the entire two-day adoption event. He went home with another volunteer to be fostered, but she made the mistake of introducing him to her son and it was love at first sight. I got to stay in Merlin’s life with updates and the odd honour of dog sitting. He died last year, but that teeny, abandoned pup running from wildfires will always be with me.
Then there was Toby. His life had not been one of kind, human touch. He didn’t do well with loud noises or traffic, yet, despite his fear, when he was in the safety of my home he shed all that and became the sweetest, medium-sized guy. I have to admit I tried to think of every way I could possibly keep him. But the city wasn’t for him. A little bit of my heart travelled with Toby when he joined his new family on the Sunshine Coast. They still send me birthday messages every year.
The neverending story.
My next adventure in rescue begins in Alberta later this month. I’ve bought a house with ⅓ of an acre where my partner, Cam, and I will open our new home to senior dogs and those in need of hospice care. We’ll soon be welcoming Papita. She was rescued from the streets of the Dominican Republic, but is suffering kidney failure. We don’t know how much time we’ll have with her, but we do know that we’ll ensure that every second will be a blast.
Sure, doing this takes from you. But - wow - what it gives back is so much, much greater. To be a part of the start of the rest of their lives for so many hundreds of dogs. To be able to give a voice to the voiceless. To be able to write the last chapters with Batman and Falcor and Papita and who knows who else will come padding through those doors.
So, yes, a dog gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever received: the life-changing joy that can come from something as simple as giving up.
