Sometimes, no matter how high your hopes or how pure your intentions, things just don't go the way you envisioned. Driving to the barn on a cold and rainy fall evening, I was hopeful that my horse was feeling better after his most recent bout of lameness. I also hoped to glean some inspiring material for the latest blog entry. I packed away my camera and anticipated maybe even getting a great shot or two.

After battling traffic for an hour, I arrived and it was nearly dusk. The rain and dark didn't make for an ideal photoshoot, so I scurried inside to be near my beloved horse. The barn was nearly deserted as the horses quietly and contentedly munched on their hay. Tuff jerked his head to attention in his usual fashion and I knew within three steps that he was feeling no better. He limped out slowly next to me as I set about to examine and clean his feet. I have found that there is almost nothing more personally discouraging to me than seeing my horse in discomfort like that. Next to his hulking and powerful frame, I feel sadly helpless in easing his burden.

As I rummaged through the tack locker to find some bute and sunflower seeds to lift his spirits, I heard a pathetic and sharp series of cries emitting from the nearby tack room. Kittens. Molly, a resident stray and elusive as always, had escaped the last vet appointment and delivered a final litter of kittens for the season. The volume of mewing led me to believe the kittens were at least 4 or 5 weeks old - I was taken aback when I opened the door to see five tiny squirming babies, their eyes barely opened. Molly had stopped nursing them and they cried out in hunger. Emily, one of our Leg Up For Kids instructors, suggested I try giving them the formula again.

And try I did. Sitting on the concrete floor, watching them squirm over my boots and cry out pitifully, I looked desperately at Molly for help. She shied away each time I placed a kitten helpfully near her. One kitten stepped into the tiny dish of formula and I watched it spread over the floor. Molly came up and lapped it up and I exhaled in disappointment. Emily stated that perhaps she would take them home that evening and try to bottle feed them in order to get them through the night. I prayed so.

As I led my lame horse slowly back to his stall, I felt downright defeated. Although Tuff's mood didn't seem terribly impacted by the soreness, I grimaced each time I watched him struggle to put weight on that foot. Then I walked back to hear the cries of the 5 hungry kittens. The entire drive home, I fretted over the kittens and whether or not they'd survive the night...tears blurred my vision and I wanted to curl up in bed and call it a day. For about a week.

No one ever said that rescue work was easy. Logically, I know that. But I suppose I go into it each time hoping for the natural high that comes with each success story...each animal saved from the brink of death... But there are heartaches too. Animals that can't be saved. Instances of abuse and neglect that can shock even the most seasoned animal welfare worker. Even small struggles, like listening to the small cries of young hungry kittens, are enough to send someone like me over the edge and morph into a sniffly, tearful mess.

But then I think about Tuff. And although his struggles with soundness are likely permanent, which I knew going in, his triumphs are far more measurable and impactful. They tell the true story of who he is and what he's been through. We have temporary setbacks all the time and I'm still learning to sort through what he's been through emotionally as well. I may never fully know. But I know that he tries. His spirit is indomitable and I'd like to think that, at least some of the time, he's happy now. He's permanently etched into my heart.

The kittens made it through the night. Thanks to the dedication of fellow animal-loving big hearted ladies, they were bottle fed through two critical nights and when returned, Molly accepted them back and immediately began nursing. I would be lying if I said my eyes didn't instantly well up at the news. The anguish of the night before seemed a distant memory. It's this. Moments just like this that keep us going and motivated to take on the next day, filled with heartaches, joy and challenges. No one ever said it would be easy, but I promise you it's always, always worth it.