A Reflection on Our First Two Months on Tour
The day we left Montana in mid-January was 20 degrees below Fahrenheit. Our RV water tank and pipes were frozen. We drove away from our house and home of 18 years for the last time. The space ahead of us was a blank canvas awaiting our stories and experiences.
Since we left Montana, we delivered petitions to seven research facilities still testing on dogs; petitions to four governor’s offices in Colorado, Texas, Louisiana, and Alabama; and the signature count on our petition went from 4,000 to 12,000. Our live Facebook videos of petition deliveries have also gotten over 7,500 views.
Our Dog Research Exposed RV is accomplishing its mission as well. Just a week ago I received this message on Facebook from a complete stranger:
“Just passed you on I-65 mile marker 54!!!! Rock on Cedric!!!! You were coming outta Mobile!!! So I looked it up!! Imma follower now. Keep up the good work!!!! Safe travels;)”
The number of people who come up to talk to us because of our RV is heartening. The other day we were driving around the outskirts of Auburn University in Alabama, and two college girls were running alongside us on the sidewalk. I was holding Cedric on my lap on the passenger side. His head was outside the window, his ears were flapping in the breeze. The two girls running had huge smiles on their faces and said pointing, “Look, it’s Cedric!”
Cedric has become quite a little celebrity. A little celebrity with a monumental task.
For every door that’s been opened to us as I delivered a petition, I feel hopeful.
For every door or gate that’s been locked, I feel despair.
I hug Cedric tightly a lot these days because I know what is behind each door. And I know it could easily have been him inside there.
The truth is there is a space in between what I’m trying to fix that I cannot enter. Nor alone can I change what happens on the other side. And I feel quite small when I’m standing outside a six-story research building made of brick and glass windows that don’t reveal what’s inside.
But together we can bridge this space in between. This gives me courage.
As I’m writing this, I’m reflecting on our first day at this beach campsite on the Gulf of Mexico. After being at a campground in northwestern Florida that was infested with ticks which got all over our dogs, our RV, and us, we were frustrated and really looking forward to enjoying ourselves at the beach for a few days. But our arrival at the beach was greeted by a drenching rain that lasted all day long. And I felt impatient. I wanted the rain and wind to stop.
Around dusk the rain finally ended and we were given the gift of one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.
The space in between what we want and where we are is usually the hardest place to be.
Our petition deliveries begin again in about three weeks. We’ll be busier than ever as the largest and most insidious dog research facilities exist along the east coast and around the north-central United States.
Until then I’ll be planning and writing and gathering more signatures. And I know that if we just work, wait, and believe together, we’ll fill the space in between with a light that can overcome any storm or darkness. Until every cage is empty.
If you missed any of our live videos, you can watch them all here on our Travel page: https://dogresearchexposed.com/travel/
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