This reading made be think back to one of my favorite articles from last year, “Caring for an Unsettled Senior Rescue Dog in the Anthropocene.” In this article, Douglas writes about her senior dog’s fears and trust issues as rooted in humans and human modification of the earth (causing more storms, noise, etc.). However, to build connection with her dog, Archie, she is forced to engage with practices that contribute to the anthropocene. She writes,
“My care is laden with invisible yet far-reaching violence to the earth. Archie’s diet is carefully balanced with wet and dry food, made by the same food industry that already contributes toward climate change (Pedrinelli et al. 2022). In tending to Archie’s care, then, I contribute to making this earth unlivable for other creatures—and, in the bigger picture, for our dog, too.”
In the same vein of thinking, Abrell, in the beginning of her introduction, writes
“As this book’s analysis of the many potential costs and compromises of sanctuary life will show, this one [referring to Bob and Eloise’s spatial separation] is relatively minor, especially compared to animals that are required to give their lives for the well-being of others, such as animals that serve as food for other sanctuary denizens” (3)
This article speaks directly to Abrell’s work, both in the questions of multispecies anthropology/ies as well as the question of sacrifice inherent in rescue and sanctuary. Time, resource, and energy constraints all limit the ability both to provide sanctuary in the physical sense as well as the more metaphysical sanctuary that Abrell talks about. Beyond questions of which animals should be saved, and which should still be eaten, the second chapter talks about Flower and the cost of her medical care, which could have paid for the treatment of multiple other animals (55). Ultimately, every animal in a sanctuary takes the place of another animal in need under our current agricultural/agribusiness system. The same could be said for rescue dogs, leading me to ask: what is the scale of sanctuary, both spatial and metaphysical? How do we prioritize care distribution, and how do we balance ideal care with good-enough practices of care?