When I was 14, I was taken advantage of by someone I thought I knew well.  He was my first kiss and my last memory of viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. In an instant, I became a different person: trusting of myself and others one moment, terrified of the unknown the next. Worst of all, I felt damaged and unworthy because I carried a secret, I believed would make me repulsive to others if they ever found out. I locked that secret away, thinking I could forget it forever. Over time, I was hard on myself in an effort to atone for what I thought made me unlovable. Vulnerability became my enemy, and whenever I felt threatened, I would react defensively toward those I sensed might think poorly of me or worse, trying desperately to maintain control.

As a child, I had every animal imaginable, with dogs being the most consistent companions. My mom loved them, while my dad tolerated them, but I found a deep connection with them. My dogs were my friends, my confidants, my source of support. I “talked” to them because they didn’t make me feel inadequate, and that felt safe. I always had friends, but I didn’t trust anyone; the risk of exposure was too great, and I was far too fragile.

As things got more difficult, I felt more alone and I internalized my struggles, which negatively impacted those around me. My aloofness often made me seem standoffish or even bitchy. I was more comfortable alone, isolating myself because reconciling my perception of who I thought I was with those around me felt insurmountable. I was indeed challenging, but it wasn’t intentional; I was simply trying to survive.

I’ve always had compassion for animals, but it wasn’t until I was older that I truly realized how much I had in common with those without a voice. My journey began rather innocuously when I came home with a black lab named Bear. He was around three or four years old, and I had heard from a friend that his owner was taking him to the vet to be euthanized because Bear was skittish, anxious, and reactive and “they no longer had time to deal with him.” I was 17 at the time, and it resonated deeply with me, especially because the song “Conviction of the Heart” by Kenny Loggins was just released—an anthem that inspired me to take action against injustice.

There was nothing wrong with Bear; he was simply misunderstood and needed someone willing to give him a chance. That person was me. I felt a compelling need to save him, so I took my mom’s car, drove 45 minutes, and pleaded with the owner until I could bring him home…all without my parents knowing. My parents were less than thrilled, but ultimately, my father helped me care for him, finally finding him the perfect family who loved him unconditionally until he passed of old age. I will never forget that moment, as it marked the beginning of a profound connection that would shape my understanding of compassion and redemption.

It’s true that I could have focused on causes like homelessness, medical research, or any number of issues, but it seems my calling lies with those who have muted voices—both because they don’t speak our language and, more importantly, because people often aren’t truly listening. Society tends to overlook animals, seeing them as commodities to be discarded when they are no longer convenient. This is especially true for those deemed broken, imperfect, or otherwise less than desirable. They are too frequently ignored, left to sink further into the shadows until their future hangs in the balance of a sharp needle.

No one ever asks why they are the way they are or how they can be helped. Let’s face it: behind the happy facade that most people present lies a significant truth that is often messy and uncomfortable. I empathize with that struggle because I spent many years in a similar place. This is why I cannot turn a blind eye; the name “Looking Glass Animal Rescue” is very intentional. It reflects how I felt for so long: that things are not always as they appear. This mission directly ties into caring for the sick, injured, neglected, and abandoned. In short, we provide second chances to those—both two-legged and four—who have been failed, dismissed, and made to suffer due to human apathy and impatience. We look past the labels, reaching into their despair to support them until they are healthy enough in body and mind to stand proudly once more.

So there it is: a song inspired me and gave me the courage to step outside myself and help others, which unknowingly aided my own healing from a broken past. I carry this inspiration with me and wanted to share it with you, as life is often too busy to appreciate the impact of brief exchanges, like listening to someone’s words. Rescue is complicated. We are perpetually in financial and emotional debt, stressed and exhausted. Yet, we remain filled with goodwill to make a positive difference in the world, rising from the ashes instead of sinking further into them. Our community inspires me every day, and I hope my journey does the same for you—perhaps bringing a smile to your face as you read it and reminding you that even small gestures can have a profound impact.

Believe Impossible Things,

Jody Harris – Wife, mother, full-time executive, animal rescuer…exhausted.

Always Remember: “No one can make you inferior without your consent.” – Eleanor Roosevelt