a matter of pride, a matter of principle

Thursday evening I was driving to a pet supply store to buy some toys for my foster kittens. Kiera and Chelsea were in the back seat. The plan was to get the toys, and then go to my parents' to pick up Lulu for our usual jog. I had to drive over some railroad tracks. Out of habit I looked in my rear view mirror as I braked to slow down and saw a maroon car bearing down on us - fast.

As I was slowly going over the tracks I saw the young male driver of the maroon car shaking his fist and gesturing out his window. I thought "whatever, what a punk". After the railroad tracks the road opened into two lanes. The guy pulled up next to us in the right lane, still gesturing, and then grabbed something and threw it hard against the side of my car. Those who know me well know that I generally refuse to be intimidated. Maybe it's because I'm proud, maybe it's because I'm stubborn. Maybe it's because my father was a police officer - he's a great person, but growing up intimidation was his MO if he thought I was getting out of line.

I didn't have any intention of playing games with this angry young guy - the pet supply store was closing in 20 minutes! But after I heard whatever he threw hit the side of my car I yanked the steering wheel to pull over to the right to write down his license plate number. I didn't know if there was any damage to my car and I wasn't stupid enough to get out and look. At first I was digging for my cell phone but when I couldn't find it immediately I scrambled to find a pen and paper to write down his license plate number.

The guy got out of his car, shirtless (classy) and yelled "I've got two kids in the backseat you f*cking c*nt". I said "I have two dogs in my backseat". I do generally slow down for railway tracks, but even more so when I have Kiera and Chelsea with me so they don't get tossed around. Then - and this is the hardest part for me to put out there for public consumption but it's also the most significant part - he spit in my face through the open window. Then he said "You're lucky I'm not a woman basher because I'd smash your face in". I shakily finished writing down the license plate number and drove on to the police reporting center.

By the time I reached the PRC I was sobbing and hyperventilating. The officer said he couldn't personally help me because he couldn't leave the desk and "somebody needs to go out to talk to this guy". He offered to have an officer called to the PRC but Kiera and Chelsea were in the back seat so I decided to go to my parents' house to collect myself a bit and then go to the Oakville police station to report what happened.

When I got to my parents' house my Mom took one look at me and knew something was terribly wrong. I started to tell her about it and as soon as I got to the part about pulling over to write down the license plate number she said "well you don't do that" or something like that. She told me it was very hot out and that I shouldn't let someone's "bad behaviour" upset me so much. I replied that flipping the bird is bad behaviour. Spitting in someone's face is assault, not bad behaviour. I was upset, exhausted, and wanted to get the entire thing behind me so I left and drove to the police station. The woman at the desk who took my story said it was an assault, without any prompting from me. I waited there for a police officer to arrive and take a report for an hour and a half. The woman at the desk said there had been some break and enters so it would be some time before an officer was available. I told her I would come back the next day, took the incident number, and left.

The next day (Friday) I returned to the police station. After waiting another hour and a half the woman at the desk that day said that someone had been on their way but then there was a fight at the Ministry of Transportation so it would be a while. She would have an officer come to my home to take the report. I gave her my cell phone number and left again.

The constable that came to my apartment to take the report was awesome. He was very kind and told me that what had happened was a type of assault under the Criminal Code and asked me if I'd like to press charges. I knew I couldn't in good conscience let it go so I said yes.

Today the constable called me and told me that the investigation had concluded and because there were conflicting stories he could not charge other party. He advised me that if I still want to press charges I can go to the Milton court house and speak with a Justice of the Peace, but there were no guarantees. It had been a very emotional 48 hours for me. I don't have a lot of extra money to be driving back and forth to Milton. I thought that maybe getting a visit from the police had sent a message to the guy so I said no, I wouldn't be pursuing it.

Since then I've had time to mull it over. In my mind I see him spitting and hear him saying that he would smash my face in. I also think about the peaceful protesters that were detained for 36 hours during the G20. I thought how can we live in a society where peaceful protesters are arrested and detained but throwing something at someone's car, spitting in her face and threatening to smash her face in had no consequences?

So now I'm reconsidering going to the courthouse. If I don't stand up for myself, who will? I'm sure this guy thought he could terrorize a young woman alone in a car and get away with it. Because of the shame I felt having someone spit in my face he almost did. But now this is bigger than me, bigger than him. I think of women who have been attacked - and injured - and never spoke up because they were afraid, or they thought nobody would care, or because they were ashamed. I care. I'm exhausted and discouraged not only because the police couldn't lay charges, but because of my own family's reaction to what happened. My Mom thinks it would be less stressful for me if I just dropped it. I have a low stress threshold right now, that's true, but I also need to believe that I'm worth standing up for. I refuse to be complicit in my own victimization.

Bittersweet revolving door

One of the things any employee or volunteer at an animal shelter has to adapt to is getting attached to an animal and then watching it go on its way to a new life once it has been adopted. It hurts to know that you'll probably never see an animal you've invested so much of your time, heart and soul in again. The consolation, of course, is that it's on to a better, less stressful life.

Since Chelsea and I started doing pet therapy at Syl Apps last summer we've had the same three youths in the program. This week two of them were discharged. One is off to an assisted living/halfway house type arrangement in Toronto that specializes in kids with schizophrenia. Actually they specialize in people who "hear voices". People can't be diagnosed with schizophrenia until they reach a certain age. I really, really hope that our young friend will flourish in this environment and enjoy a better quality of life.

Our other young friend however, is leaving Syl Apps to go to a typical prison. The prison if fairly new, it's in Brampton, and by all media accounts it got off to a very rocky start. I know what our young friend's conviction is, and the circumstances surrounding it. As well as anyone on the peripheral of her life can, anyway. I also know how creative, bright, and sensitive she is. I can't help but worry about her, how she'll adapt, whether this will set her back in her mental health recovery.

But I know that I have to let go of my young friends the way I've learned to let go of dogs I've worked with and loved at the shelter. I'm in their lives for a finite amount of time and once that time is over I need to devote myself to the dogs, or in this case youths, who will take their places. One of the key principles of Buddhism is that everything is finite, temporary. This bittersweet revolving door is a good reminder of that, and a good reminder to put my heart and energy where they'll make a difference today.