I am Cheryl Jewhurst and I am an animal welfare advocate. I live in Surrey, BC, Canada and I will be 52 next month.

I have been an animal welfare advocate for a long time. When I first decided to get involved in advocacy, I felt like I was going to save the world. Or at least every animal in it anyway. I thought for sure my friends and family would get on board with me and that I could persuade everyone else to see animal cruelty as I do. Something that desperately needs to be abolished and punished.

It wasn’t long before I learned a hard lesson. Not everyone sees animal cruelty as a sign of a degenerating race. Not everyone weeps when they see a dog brutalized by a cruel owner who had a bad day and took it out on his “best friend”. Not everyone sees the brutality in forcing a young calf to run around a ring and then be caught and brought down violently for the entertainment of paying guests. And not everyone realizes the pain and suffering an animal feels on it’s way to the slaughterhouse.

Before too long, I became painfully aware that I wasn’t going to change the world, nor could I even change the minds of my friends and family if they were too blind to see the reality of animal cruelty. Still, everyday I immersed myself in more and more horrifying stories of animals being abused, abandoned, exploited and killed for the pleasure of mankind and this exposure to that which pains me deeply took it’s toll.

Finally I threw up my hands in frustration and said “enough!” I can’t do this anymore and so I didn’t. Oh I didn’t give up advocacy completely. I still become a pain in the butt to people I see wearing fur, I still condemn and correct people I see being unnecessarily cruel to their pets and I still write letters and sign petitions. I just haven’t been doing my advocacy work as diligently as I used to.

And, of course, I have been feeling just awful about it ever since. It’s been niggling at me for so long now it seems like I was married to the guilt. This past week I had an epiphany of sorts and decided to listen to that small voice that said I was not fulfilling my purpose.

My very first memory from babyhood is a dog bite.  A big ol’ collie and I were playing tug-a-war with a braided rug and the dog was a sore loser.  Bit me right in the nose missing my eye by only a fraction.  I was only about 2 at the time but I remember it.  From then on my life was an emotional rollercoaster for many reasons including my parents divorce and abandonment.  I also endured sexual abuse as a teen and my abuser even bought himself a gun to kill me with after I finally spoke out about it.  But none of that trauma or stress has ever affected me as deeply as watching my father abuse animals and being powerless to do anything about it. To this day, I cannot find it in my heart to forgive my father for the beatings, kickings and abuse he gave our pets.  Contrarily, my mother worked for the humane society in Windsor for about 15 years and it drove her to drink.  She was a huge animal lover and the pain of watching the abuse others inflicted on their pets could only be numbed by alcohol.

So it seems the universe has conspired to cause animals to be a major part of my life from the very earliest moments.  And I can deny no longer my need to fight for their welfare, to put an end to abuse, cruelty and exploitation and to make sure there are no animals living in painful situations.  I know, it is a big mountain so I better get started climbing.

Care to join me?