IN a vacant field not far from her home, where wildflowers bloomed, a young woman knelt down, her head bent, tears spilling softly down her face. She picked up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it slowly on the mound she was kneeling in front of.

“So sorry, my sweet girl,” her voice broke a little, “that I couldn’t get your treatment in time to save you.”

Another life had slipped through her fingers, riding with the wind across the rainbow bridge.

Annalisa had taken her in from the streets a couple of months ago, a poor dog abandoned and left in the throes of hunger and suffering. She had named her Honey and, with love, care and medication, she had tried to give her a second chance at life.
But though Honey’s health and condition improved to a point where she could run and play, and the spark in her soft, brown eyes showed her happiness, she needed regular treatments.
Annalisa had to appeal to the public for donations, given that she was finally tasked with caring for many other strays under her care. But, sadly for Honey, the donations did not come in time. Annalisa had sat with her in her lap, speaking to her with soft, comforting words as the spark in her eyes dimmed and she took her last breath.

“Why, dear God?” Annalisa had cried, hugging the poor baby, “Why can’t humans care more?”

It had been an immense challenge for her since a few years ago when she had decided to take on the selfless task of becoming an animal rescuer. It had not been part of her plan until one morning, a puppy changed that.

She had been going to town in a taxi when she witnessed a car hit a puppy.
She had shouted for the taxi to stop and jumped out, running across the road to literally stop traffic and pick up the injured puppy.
The car that hit the poor baby had driven away. It was badly injured and died in Annalisa’s arms. Motorists passing by couldn’t care less, and one person even shouted an insult to her, “Stupid girl, it’s just a dog!”
That night, she couldn’t sleep well, the scene replaying in her head, and by the next morning, she had awoken with renewed decisiveness in her mind.

As an animal rescuer, she had always felt a deep love for animals, and it was heartbreaking to see dogs and cats stray with no care for how they would survive without food and shelter. She spoke out boldly against owners who abandoned horses and donkeys, leaving them to walk the streets, which posed a danger to their safety.
She had encountered many who seemed not to care, some who unapologetically stated, “I’m not an animal person,” and others who were unwilling to lend a helping hand. But, undaunted, she had continued, though at times she was overwhelmed with so many to care for, with neither enough food nor money for the vet. She did not give up, though, telling herself, “Everything will work out fine, one day at a time.”
And to the animals, she always expressed in a positive tone, “We’ll do fine, don’t worry.”
They would look at her as though they understood what she was saying.

Sitting there in the field, she whispered with sadness, “I’m sorry things didn’t get better to save you, sweet girl.”
And picking one of the wildflowers from the field next to Honey’s resting place, she stuck it in the plait of her long, dark hair.
For every animal she had to bury, she put a flower in her hair in their memory.
“The flower is for you, Honey,” she said quietly, an ache in her heart as she walked home.
It always took a piece of her heart when losing an animal under her care, but rescuing new ones gave her back those missing pieces to make her heart whole again.
Memories of all who had crossed the rainbow bridge were kept in a special place.
She sometimes wondered what it was like up there and knew that when it was time for her to leave this earthly life, her furry babies would be there, waiting for her.
“Yeah,” she smiled, “such a joy it would be to see them all again.”

For now, she had a special job to do as an earthly angel for the voiceless.
“Life would be so much better for animals,” she often mused, “if people can understand that they are just like us humans.”
They feel love, pain, sadness and fear, and a mother can feel the same anxiety and pain on losing her child. A true story Annalisa had read, written by an animal lover, shared the heart-touching story of a mare who stood over her foal’s grave, neighing with grief.

Many stories told in the world of animals, both domestic and wild, relate an undeniable fact: that love exists in its purest form in every being in the world, and, sadly, humans living among us do not recognise that nor care to.

One gentleman had told Annalisa once, after he had seen her sitting down in the drizzle by an injured horse, crying, “We can’t save them all.”
She knew that in her heart but never faltered in stepping forward to do all she could for the voiceless. Her strong, bold advocacy against cruelty to animals sometimes found her in near-dangerous situations against aggressive abusers.
“If only what we do as animal rescuers can be seen, supported and appreciated more,” she often expressed.

But there were, for sure, animal rescuers and animal lovers across the world who have big hearts, and even though they can’t save them all, they do give the beautiful souls a chance for a good life with care and loving homes.

“I will continue to live with hopes,” Annalisa said as she fed a mother cat and her four kittens, she had rescued from the road in pouring rain only last night, “and I will continue to dream of a beautiful farmhouse and wide-open spaces for animals to live in comfort.”
The mother cat looked up at her and meowed as though saying, “That’s nice.”
“Dreams do come true,” Annalisa laughed a little as she played with the kittens.
The satisfied look in the mother’s eyes, knowing that she and her babies were in good hands, was nothing short of priceless.

From time to time, she would still have to wear a flower in her hair for a lost soul, but at least they would have lived a life filled with love and care.