When I Come Home

One small cat changes coming home to an empty house to coming home.
- Pam Brown   

"Well hey there!"

If coming home to one small cat can change an empty house into a home, what can many different size cats change an empty house into and what does it feel like to come home to them all?

Well, I'll try to explain with a little show and tell. 

First off, I have to be really careful when I open the gate and come in the driveway, because they start darting everywhere. Sometimes I have to tap my horn to get them out from in front of the car.  This makes me nervous.

I park in back on the gravel, and walk back up to the house.

If it's really hot out they will gather from the four corners of the world and wait under the shade of this ficus tree, like this, to greet me:




 Gathering under the shade of the ficus tree

Otherwise, when it's cooler, they come straight to the car, and pile in as soon as I open the door, and before that if the windows are open.  They are also on the roof of the car, the hood, and crawling up the windshield:

This is fun, I usually stay in the car a little while when this happens.

When I appoach them up close, I start to feel really happy.  If I were a dog my tail would wag.



Some have greater expectations upon my return than others, just like people



A Dance Craze Greeting:  The Bump

Inquisitory Greeting:  Why did you leave? Where did you go?  Where's my tea?  Did you bring soft food?

Romantic and Tender Greeting: Where have you been all my life?

Batmanesque Greeting: Boof! Swat! Yow!

Comical Greeting: A whole lot of tail and ducked head

Comforting Chillax No Big Deal Greeting: All's well now, Human Mom is here.

Yep, it sure is Mini. It's well with me now, too. 

Fun Time Greeting:  The Pile-on

The best of all.

Who hath a better friend than a cat?
- William Hardwin

Not me. 



Wait!  What about me?

 

That includes you, too, Muji. :)  You're the fattest cat of all.  

Animal Rescue Burnout by Gila Todd

 

Animal rescuers: burnout

by Gila Todd

 

July 28, 2013

 

This won’t be one of my regular articles, all nicely organized and written as an AP style news piece. You will get this one from my heart instead of my head, as my feelings on this matter run very deep inside of me.

As a young child dragging home broken and unwanted animals I could never have imagined it was some sort of calling for me. I never dreamed I would spend my adult years trying to save almost every unwanted pet I encountered. But here I am, in mid life, with a houseful of pets discarded by others, in a circle of friends who live just exactly as I do, trying to rescue the thrown away pets of the world.

Rescuing animals: we live it, eat it, sleep it, breathe it, and take it everywhere we go with us. It’s a calling, a gut reaction, a determination to right the wrongs of others, and to save innocent lives as we speak out for those creatures that have no voice of their own.

Most of us live paycheck to paycheck and do without much so that our animals can eat and see the veterinarian. It’s no different than being the parent of a pack of two legged toddlers. They need, we provide, and many times to the detriment of ourselves. But we do it all, with no regrets.
With the vast numbers of homeless pets in our nation today, we realize that we just can’t save them all, even though we try as we give it our best shot day after day.

Our hearts break a thousand times a week as we see animals euthanized because there is simply no place for them to go. We open our email accounts to people begging for help, looking for a place to rehome their pets, for one reason or another. Our phones blow up with calls and texts for the same reasons. We open our Facebook accounts only to scroll through pages and pages of pets needing homes, some who have suffered starvation, illness, and abuse, and many who have died at the hands of heartless humans. Almost everywhere we venture outside of our homes we see pets in need. It never ends. The numbers are simply just too great.

Amongst the rescuing I have done, I’ve taken thousands of images of pets trying to get them recognized and into loving homes. In the midst of my five page job description (when once employed by a shelter) it just boiled down to my doing whatever it took to help the animals, and I did it gladly, with no complaints. Some of the work was dirty, hot, cold, and many times heartbreaking. Budget cuts ended my employment with the shelter, as economics do so often with many programs in animal rescue. But having become known for my efforts, working in rescue didn’t end with the job. It seldom does for any of us.

Continuing to work with animal rescue, volunteering any time and skills I can muster up, and being a shelter board member, I am blessed to work with some of the best people in the business. People who live, eat, and breathe animal rescue in the same fashion (or more so) than I do.

Being close to so many in this business, I see their mix of joy and disappointment on a regular basis and my heart breaks for them when they feel the burn of this calling; the burn deep inside of each of us when we have done everything right only to see an animal put down because no one wants it. The burn inside we feel when we’ve rescued one that’s been so ill that even with the finest medical care just isn’t strong enough to make it. The burn inside when we encounter animals that have been abused, and sometimes killed, by the hands of a human being. And to feel the fury of the latter is a scorn like no other. It will make a person look at the human race through tainted eyes and make one cautious of almost everyone.

I watch my fellow rescuers struggle with the choices before them when the burn happens, and it happens to every single one of us at one time or another. That point that we get to when we can’t see through the fury and the tears. When we can’t sleep at night for the atrocities we’ve seen that play over and over again in our heads. For the souls we’ve see in the eyes of needy animals who we’ve failed to save, even though we did everything in our power to do so.

Does one stay in rescue and do what can be done and be satisfied with the results? Or step away from the whole mess, stop checking email, shut off the phone and un-friend every rescuer, crossposter, shelter, on our Facebook page? Oh, and just don’t leave the house.

In the decade that I have been active with animal rescue, I have only seen a handful of rescuers actually be able to pull away and stay out of the scenario completely. Even those will admit it is a struggle to stand back and let others do the job. Though some have chosen to step back and stay out, the urge to save never goes away.

Why so difficult to leave all the craziness behind? Because for most, being a rescuer is not a conscience choice we make. People just don’t wake up one morning and say “Wow. I think I will be an animal rescuer.” It’s a drive that lives inside of us and not something we have consciously made the choice to do. To save the life of an innocent is just a natural reaction for most, and we do it without batting an eye.

We go out and about and see an animal in distress and we automatically flock to it trying to fix whatever ailment it may have, and if we can’t fix it, we find someone who can. We see abuse and instead of idly standing by, we react to stop whatever abuse might be occurring, and many times will do so without regard to our own well being. We get a call, or an email and know that on the other end there is a helpless animal that’s whole life is being thrown into uncertainty.

We’re a breed all our own. It’s an impulse for us and not something that we can shut off just because our hearts are aching and we just don’t think we can take anymore. We react like we breathe, without thinking to do it; it just happens. And somehow the numbers we save keep us going even though the many we fail to save haunts us, always. It's all a question of how much we can really take.

With 10,000 animals dying in shelters, every single day in the US alone, it’s hard to step back and pace oneself, but it’s something anyone in animal rescue must learn to do. We must learn to recognize the burn, step back a few paces, and find a way to regroup before we hit that point of no return. A point we would forever regret.

I write this for all my fellow rescuers who understand every word, and for those of you out there who think we are all crazy and cannot fathom why we put ourselves through it.

http://www.examiner.com/article/animal-rescuers-burnout?cid=PROD-redesign-right-next

Great article...

'Something You Somehow Haven't to Deserve' - Remembering Theo

'Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.'

 

 

Theo in the old house

 

'I should have called it Something you somehow haven't to deserve.' 

 

-- Robert Frost, from The Death of the Hired Man 

Ryan on Theo's grave   +++++++++++++++++++++++++++     'Theo' was short for Theodorus.  Theodorus is an old Greek name meaning "gift of god" - from the Greek words, θεος (Theos) "God", and δωρον (doron) "gift". Theo, my gift from God From there I nicknamed him Thirio, meaning 'strong beast' in Greek.  I am like a mockingbird.  I never stop making variations on names for the cats.  Their names are a continuum that eventually turn into songs. Theo I did a lot of paintings of Theo.  I did one with some of these nicknames for him.  I sometimes called him Teddy Bear, because he was like a Teddy Bear.  Theo was one of the kittens Sammy's daughter fed while she was here.  When she left she asked me to look after him and his family, who I named the Davis Family, because I had named his Mom Bette Davis. Bette Davis, Theo's mom So I fed them there, checking on them every day.  Until they all disappeared.  I continued to put food out at Sammy's anyway because I knew other cats fed there.  One day I was thrilled but panicked when Minnow, Theo's sister, came around the corner of the house, small and alone.  She looked defeated, dejected.  She was pitiful, limping, her front leg broken and savaged with bite marks.  I brought her home and Nik took her to the vet.  The vets splinted her leg with a tight wrap, one she never failed to extricate herself from like Houdini a strait jacket.  She was condemned to a small carrier for a time where she wouldn't be able to move around too much. But still, no Bette, no Theo at Sammy's.  What happened to them?

Minnow, Theo's sister, with her broken and savaged leg, getting treated by vets George and Christina

I was so happy the day Theo surfaced again.  He was still a kitten then, even though it seemed like a long time later .  One day he leaped triumphantly over my fence from my neighbor's yard, like Don Quixote, full of challenge, bluster, and adventure, delighting in the advantage of surprise he had over me.  I was confused because I didn't know he knew where I lived.  I wasn't far from Sammy's, but still.  Had he been watching me?  Since he had disappeared, I had worried sick about him.  Especially after what had happened to Minnow. 

Bette, their Mom, was the last to reappear.  She showed up outside the house one night with an abscessed tooth, drooling and unable to eat. I thought she had been poisoned.  The tooth was extracted.

Minnow was small, and remains a small cat; Theo, on the other hand, grew up to be big and stocky, not cut, but muscular, with a broad head and shoulders and a full and silky, even juicy feel, like a mango.  Mangos are my favourite fruit.   I eventually drew him as a mango.  I drew Theo a lot.  He was always close by.  He was always near my lap when I was drawing. 

Theo's sister, Minnow, is still a small cat, while Theo was husky

Theo stayed in the garden all that day, the day of his triumphant leap over the fence.  He eventually curled up on Nik's chest  in the back garden and started purring.  He had no problem later just walking in the house to meet the other cats.


Theo inspired mixed feelings in Nik.  Nik nicknamed him 'Theo Underfoot', because he was always as a kitten underfoot.  Though there was some affection in the name, I sensed some annoyance, too, causing me to become Theo's protector, defender, and champion. 

Nik nicknamed Theo "Theo Underfoot"

Maybe it was overprotection that caused Theo to become such a Momma's boy.  Or maybe it was his Greek name that inspired him to behave like a good Greek son.  I don't know, but between me and Bette and Minnow, Theo had all he needed.  He never played with any of the male, or female cats, for that matter, outside his immediate family and gene pool, very much like many Cypriots. 

Theo loved his Mom, Bette

A familiar sight, Theo loving on his Mom, Bette, on the couch

He and his mama Bette would lay on the couch for hours licking each other affectionately.  Bette was not nearly so interested in her little Minnow, in fact she was kind of mean to her.  But I often found Theo and Minnow curled up the same way as Bette and Theo,  I just rarely saw all three together.  Minnow learned to become wary of her capricious mom. 


It was OK that Theo didn't make other friends, Minnow provided Theo with lots of play, and they would tear through the old house with abandon, breaking lamps and whatever else was in their paths. 

In fact, Minnow is still breaking stuff.  She broke my lamp by the front door two days ago.

Theo's sister, Minnow,... I call her Mini, fast and small, she and Theo broke a lot of stuff together

Minnow and the lamp she just broke; that's little Olive below her 



A sweet sight, siblings Theo and Minnow sleeping together on the couch

I got so used to seeing them this way, I drew Minnow and Theo as one great mass.

As Theo started to grow big, Minnow became a little iffy about their games and took to shrieking when Theo wanted to play.  It was in that way Theo lost his playmate.  No matter, she would still lie with him on the couch sometimes, and he still had his two moms, his best gals, Bette and me. 

Theo and Morris took a problematic dislike to one another.  I don't know why.  Morris was a smidge older than Theo, but they were both male, ginger and white, and I guess they had too much in common.  All heck broke loose if one caught the other in the litter box.  Now that I think about it, maybe that was the problem between Nik and Theo.  Maybe they were too much alike.  I have the same problems now with Twigs and Giblet. 

Morris - He and Theo weren't wild about each other

Theo, too many similarities with Morris to get along?

Twigs

Giblet

Twigs stalking Giblet

Theo laid on the couch with me the same way he did with Bette.  Wherever he was, he always looked up at me with an expression I have been wracking my brain to define, but I can't.  It was in the end pure Theo, only his own.  It was intense, it was pleading, it was devoted, it was fixed, it was innocent, and it was all these other things I can never explain.

pure Theo

He would occasionally take a swipe at another cat.  It was so out of character with the look on his face, that it always surprised me.  After, he would look up at me, at the least, with complete innocence, as if he if did not understand he had just done something aggressive, and, at the most, like he had done his second best girl, me, a favour.  Like this:

"But... it was for us, I did it for us."

The only look I can even compare to Theo's was my old dog Gracie's.  Gracie was in love with me.  I have had many dogs but Gracie was the only one who ever 100% chose me.  

Gracie loved me.  I loved her, too. 

 Maybe, like Gracie, Theo just loved me. 

Maybe he just loved me.

Whatever it was, I never felt worthy of it, and, yet, maybe, it was something I didn't have to deserve.

Theo looking out from the old balcony enclosure

It was right after I took this next picture that Theo disappeared.  I can't remember how long he was gone.  A week?  Two weeks?  My life is a blur of 36, 48 hour days, litter boxes, water bowls, thickets catching my hair, aching knees, long runs to the vet, mosquito bites, an overheating car, and not nearly enough sleep.  I hoped that maybe, like Astro, if Theo had been hit by a car, he would only have suffered minor injuries and would eventually lug himself back and all would be well but a slight limp.... just like Astro.  I prayed. 

The last time I saw Theo healthy.  He disappeared after this picture

He did lug himself back one day.  I opened the front door and there he was.  I was over the moon, stunned, pinching myself.  Then I saw him walking funny.  I called the emergency clinic in Larnaca.  She asked me to describe his injury and then told me it wasn't an emergency.  It was a holiday at the time.  Her vets told me when they finally saw him that it indeed had been an emergency.  Theo couldn't peepee.  He was in distress.  

The vets told me he was better and sent him home.  He was better for a while.  Then he got worse.  When I finally saw another vet it was diagnosed as diabetes, not a car injury at all. 

Theo became very ill

Theo was hungry every fifteen minutes.  The only food he would eat was expensive.  I had to ward off the other cats and put him in the bathroom to eat.  These were labor intensive days that I will treasure the rest of my life.  When someone is sick and you are caring for them you bond with them in a way like no other.

Theo couldn't handle the long journeys back and forth in the hot car to the vets.  They eventually took their toll and he grew worse.  I stayed up with him on his final night in this world.

I had just stepped in the other room when I heard him utter his last cries.  I ran in.  He was just leaving.  I called to him, and called to him, even after I suspected he was gone.  It's hard to let go. 

I picked him up and took him to my bed, laid him there, and continued to hope.  I sang him the song I use to sing to him when I knew he was hungry again....I sang him...

Tay-o, Ta ay-o,...Tay-o, Ta-ay-o,...Tay-o, Ta-ay-o, Tay-o with Tay-o

Ron helped me bury Theo.  He told me he would bring me a cross to put on Theo's grave.  Ron was good for his word because one day I went outside and there it was.  He had slipped in quietly unbeknownst to me and placed it there.

Ryan lying on Theo's grave, with the cross Ron brought.  Theo's sister Minnow is in the foreground

I still miss Theo every day.  He was gallant right up until the end.  What heartiness he lost in body he maintained in spirit, and that is how I will always remember him: hearty, thick, strong, a juicy hunk of love.  He never stopped looking at me the way he did, even at the end. 

 +++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

I’ll sit and see if that small sailing cloud

Will hit or miss the moon.’ 

 

                                

    
 It hit the moon.
 

                                    

Then there were three there, making a dim row,

The moon, the little silver cloud, and she.

-- Robert Frost, from The Death of the Hired Man 

Bette, Minnow, and me... in the olive grove

Thank you, Theo.  I love you.  Awww,...Ryan  :)

Ryan knows, Theo is only asleep, he'll be back

 

We'll see you soon Theo.  :)


PS  While I was writing this post, Ryan has disappeared.  Please pray he is safe and he comes back.  I find myself absentmindedly calling Vincent Theo these days.  They are related through Bette, Tweets, Big Van, and Twigs.  I see something of Theo's spirit in him. 

Vincent, Theo's great nephew, has something of Theo's spirit

Heartbreak - Losing Theo, Losing Purpose

"“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, ..."
Matthew 25:31-46

Theo passed away early yesterday morning, about 4:15 AM.  I was up with him all night.

He had been sick for the last 4 months or so.  At first they thought it was a kidney trauma, but a new vet recently diagnosed it as diabetes.  Perhaps if I had found that out sooner I could have done more.  I have never had a diabetic cat before, it was all new to me. 

It's a problem when you owe the vet money to get care. Sometimes they won't serve your animals anymore, or at least are very discouraging when you call them, preferring to give you phone advice than having you come in and run up more bills.  So I get a lot of phone advice.

But that also causes me to run around seeking new vets and sometimes I end up finding gems.  The new vet who helped Theo is a gem. 

But that is not what this post is about.  It's about the spirit of desolation you can experience after a loss, especially if it is a person or animal who has been sick for a time and you have been caring for them every hour on the hour.  Like the female octopus blowing on her eggs to keep them afloat, you find you cannot afford to look away or think of yourself or your own tiredness or needs for a moment or you lose ground.  And as important and overwhelming as your own needs appear to be, when you succumb to them and turn away from your convalescent you always find they didn't matter as much as the ground you lost with your loved one.

And when you wake up everyday to his or her needs, and suddenly they are gone, you face a horrible emptiness without them.  It gives you purpose.  It gives you something more important than yourself to think about when they are foremost on your mind. 

I once had a dog who became paralyzed.  He was in wheelchair the last year of his life.   He needed round the clock care.  When he died the silence and the emptiness was overwhelming.  I found this article on the Internet about this very subject, here is a portion:

"Caregiver Syndrome"

For those of us who are caregivers for a terminally ill or other special-needs pet, their death is a loss that can hit us doubly hard. I had a difficult time understanding why I was so devastated by Major Barbara's death, until one day when I was in conversation with close friend who is a former AIDS hospice volunteer and a minister. I told him about the extremely difficult time I was having coming to grips with her loss - far more difficult than I'd had when I'd lost friends and family members in the past - and asked him "What's wrong with me? Am I crazy?" His response: "You have Caregiver Syndrome, and what you are experiencing is completely normal".

In a nutshell, Caregiver Syndrome is something that is a familiar concept in the AIDS hospice circles. Caregiver Syndrome happens when a person's life becomes consumed with taking care of another person (or, in this case, a companion animal). We devote huge amounts of time, energy and attention to our sick pets, and when the pet dies, we are left not only with the "normal" grief of the loss of a loved one, but also the gaping hole left because we are suddenly bereft of that which has been such an all-consuming focus of our attention for so long. A friend of mine who was a caregiver to an AIDS patient expressed it this way: "I don't know what to do with myself anymore. My whole world revolved around taking care of him, and now he's gone." We become so wrapped up in our roles as caregivers, that when the object of our care is no longer there, we find ourselves literally having to re-assess and even re-invent our lives. Doing this takes time, patience and work.

The spirit of desolation can be overwhelming.  It is tempting to succumb to it, especially if you are alone, have no one to talk to, or feel no one close to you understands what you are going through.  Sometimes people, to fight their uncomfortable feeling with the subject of sickness and death, are too quick to minimize your pain and loss, which can isolate you even more.

The spirit of desolation can make you angry, resentful, self -righteous, insecure, hopeless.  God feels far away.  We have to fight it.

I feel Theo's loss terribly.  Meanwhile a neighbourhood cat, beautiful Rainbow, has shown up with her litter of kittens.  It appears her front leg is injured.  Is it broken?  She brought the kittens to the food bowl and left.  The last time I saw her she was hiding in the bushes across the way. 

At the park this morning I saw one of the youngest females, Pansy, a kitten herself, with her recent litter.  She had brought them to the water bowl.  Small and sickly, I wondered if they would make it.  I found her sister Anemone in the road, killed by a car right after I found Pookie.  Anemone had been pregnant, too.  I don't know if she had already had her litter when she was killed. 

This afternoon I noticed Solo's front paw is swollen and painful again.  The last time she had this problem she had to be administered a course of prednisone.  She will need to go back to the vet. 

The needs will be never ending, this much is clear.  Theo is gone but others rise up so to speak to take his place in their need.  I want to help them all.  The vet told me this afternoon when I called him to let him know Theo had passed, "You can't save them all."

"I know," I said, "But we have to try." 

I met an elderly Cypriot lady in the grocery store.  She was loading up on cat food like me.  She came and whispered to me, because she said people get mad in Cyprus when you spend money on animals. so she wanted to be quiet.  She told me a story of how a mother cat she was feeding took a piece of ham she put out and took it straight away to where her kittens were hiding, and set it down before them so they could eat.  She said, "You see, they are like us."

God Bless that woman.  She lived with her brother she said.  She said he payed for all the cat food.  I will probably never see her again.  I wondered if she was an angel.

The mother looks after her young.  When she knows she is in trouble she makes sure to bring her young to where they will be cared for, like Rainbow did.  Like we do. 

Look at the octopus. Look at God's great design. We are all created in His image, all His creatures, more alike in our needs and ways to the animals than different.

"...they are like us."

God is coming at us every minute.  Are we too busy, is it too painful to listen?

"You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fat ones, but you do not feed the sheep. The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought, and with force and harshness you have ruled them."
Ezekiel 34:3-4

I will share some memories of my beloved Theo with you in the next post. 

Thank you, Theo. 

Needed Now

Your help is needed!

These three kittens followed me and my dog, Muji, home from a walk!  They need vaccinations and deworming.

I have twelve kittens that need to be vaccinated and it is time to spay Twigs and neuter Milton, past time!

It's past time to spay Twigs!  All her kittens (5 in total) need vaccinations.

Milton, trapped and relocated from the local Orphanides,  needs neutering...it's time!

I have a new arrangement with a vet in Larnaca where I can spay a female for 50 euro, and neuter a male for 20 euro.  This is good.

But, I need help! I can't do this alone!

I found these three tiny kittens in the middle of the road in front of the park, next to their two littermates who had been killed by traffic.  They need medical attention and vaccinations.

There are many more cats at my house and at the feeding stations who need altering.

I also need food, adult kibble and cans, kidney support cans, kitten food, kibble and cans, and baby cat kibble.

Please I need donations of bags of kibble, I go through 100 kilos a week

I need donations of cat food tins, I go through 70-80 weekly

Also needed are stronghold applications for fleas, ticks, and earmites. 

Dewormer medications and pastes are needed. 

This sole sick kitten was brought to me with a bad respiratory infection, he needs veterinary attention.

Fleece blankets.

Large plastic bowls.

Boogie

A food processor.

I have been cooking pig's liver for the cats as it is nutritious and inexpensive.  But I need a food processor to mix it all up.  It is impossible to do any chopping on my kitchen countertop with so many eager assistants. 

I also need a vet who will volunteer some time to come out and help me on a regular basis. 

I need Dettol.  Lots and lots of Dettol disinfectant in the form of bottles, aerosol sprays, non-aerosol spray cleaners, and any other form they make.

I need clumping cat litter.  It has to be clumping because one cat, Swatchee, is partially paralyzed and he still has his limb.  If I use the heavy litter his foot starts to bleed and then gets infected.

My cat litter experiments should get their own post because they are legion. 

Please help me. 

PS  And homes.  I always need good homes for these babies.  Won't you help? 

Caring for the Sick

God doesn't require us to succeed; he only requires that you try.
~Mother Teresa

I am overwhelmed now with sick kittens.  I have twelve kittens here now, several of whom are sick, one who is close to death.  I have barely enough money to feed these cats, much less get them the veterinary care they need.  I wonder at times like this what I am doing, if I am helping, and I am tempted to feel hopeless. 

I am saddened by the people, the so called animal lovers here,  who have never offered me any help.  I have received criticism, advice, requests for money (vets), warnings, chidings, admiration, but as I was reminded in a dream the other night, not one person has asked what they could do to help. 

No one wants to get involved.

Why?  This work requires sacrifice.  It requires facing your failures, facing death, and not being able to live the way you want, and do the things you want, when you want.  

At times like this I look desperately for inspiration, hope, energy, and after exhausting the meager crumbs the world has to offer, I turn again to God, and I am reminded of the truth. 

When a poor person dies of hunger, it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed.
~Mother Teresa