Sunday Sunday

*This and a few following posts, the exact number unknown at this time, are a retelling as accurate as I can give of the several recent dramatic events of my life which have been full of some of the most traumatic experiences that I have ever made it through, but which also  lead to some of the most profound and startling realizations and epiphanies of my life.  While these entries are not directly about animals themselves, the animals in my own life were impacted greatly by the events that occurred, as well as many of these events causing me to examine the predicaments of  the various animals that come into “shelters” and animal control centers everywhere.  I have chosen to be brutally honest, and realize while some may judge me, others will appreciate my honesty and hopefully a few will maybe learn something from my experiences.   The specifics of which ALL  will come to be revealed in the the telling of my story.*

Tony.  My mom's cat.

Tony. My mom’s cat.

i slept well into the afternoon, waking up about 2pm.  my body ached, especially my hips as what little support there was in the bed roll was gone.  my fibromyalgia had kicked in as well, and everything was the stiff.  the first thing i did was pick up the phone to check in with my sisters.  they had arrived back at the trailer and had taken the dogs for walks and fed everyone.  soon they would be back on the road heading home and my furry family would be left on their own.  they told me that they had made the decision to move Tony to the Eagle Valley Humane Society; that that was at least one less animal for me to worry about/take care of.   i was not happy with this decision but didn’t voice my objections.  i knew it would do no good, and if i really wanted to raise a stink, i could do so to get him back once i was out of jail.  i had been caring for him; feeding him and running him to the vets when needed since about april of last year, so regardless whether my sisters had power of attorney for my mom or not, he had been in my care long enuff to provide substantial argument he was my cat.   there was no written agreement between us and I knew that he would technically be viewed as my property in the courts.  the one slight edge i had over my sisters was that i had previously taken several paralegal courses, and one of them had been contracts.

i reflect on the irony of Tony’s situation.  last summer when he moved to my home, my oldest sister would “gush” about how she knew they had made the right decision in having me taking him, and that i would do right by him (the greater the hypocrisy of all this would become even more obvious with what would develop later).

while on the phone, i tried again to talk my oldest sister into contacting my friend to care for the animals.  again, she refused.  she said on their way back home they would drop off the rest of my meds at the jail so that i’d have them just in case.  i said i didn’t need them as i was certain that since tomorrow was monday, i would be out sooner rather than later.  my oldest sister wasn’t so sure about that (talk about boosting my confidence!)

i said good bye.  pounded on the door and requested that i be allowed to take another shower.  the guard said it’d be a few minutes.  in the process of turning around, i accidently knocked the rubber cup they give you into the toilet.  it flushed away and went down the drain.  uhoh.  when they came to get me, i informed them of the cup’s fate.  they said they would take care of it and escorted me to the shower.

jailshower

the shower was not hot and nearly as comforting as it has been previously.  it was chilly actually and so made for a quick cleansing.  after changing into my new uniform, i knocked on the door to be moved back to my cell.  i was escorted back to a new cell due to the fact that the old cell’s toilet now had a problem.

the new cell provided me with a much better view of things.  i could see the clock on the wall, so i didn’t have to inquire nearly as much as to the time.  however, i no longer had a phone that was in the cell and i could use whenever needed.

i had also put in a request for a second bed roll, to help with my hip pain and fibromyalgia but the intake officer had failed to document my fibromyalgia and the guards told the nurse that i was lying, so my request was denied.  the response was “they would have to verify my fibromyalgia diagnosis with my medical caregiver on Monday” and so the request was denied until verification was achieved.

the detention officers that worked the night shifts both Saturday and Sunday nights, i called the Shawshank Redemption team.  They weren’t very friendly, very accommodating, and pretty much considered anyone and everyone who was in there, deserving to be there and guilty as hell.  one older gentleman-deputy i should say, and when i say old he had to be at least 55-60, was of the “old school” mentality, and which he didn’t make any effort  to hide.  a program came on their tv, and he kept making comments that the woman on screen should do them all a favor and take her top off.  and making the comments loudly.  (in this day and age, considering that there were two females that worked on  the same shift as him, that kind of comment would definitely have been considered sexual harassment).  also, time apparently moved slowly for them too when not busy, and they spent their time “surfing” on the web.  there were three computers at the booking station and usually 2-3 officers per shift.  not a bad way to earn $21.60 an hour when things are slow: ordering pizza or other carry out and surfing the net.  hmmm….our tax dollars hard at work!

i knew how much the detention officers at the Garfield County jail made, because not only were they constantly advertising for help, but as a former employee of the state employment agency, i had worked with their recruiting team on special promotions and job fairs to try and beef up their hiring needs.  yes small world.  of course i never imagined i’d get to see them at work up close and personal!

another coincidence was the gentleman who finger printed me on Friday when I first came in, was also my former neighbor when I did reside in Rifle.  he lived just down the street, and upon first seeing me, the surprise registered on his face.  it’s a small small world.

by now it was 4pm, and meds were being delivered.  at 4:30 dinner would be served. a bit of tension was easing from my body as i told myself i was in the “home stretch”.  tomorrow was monday and not only was i sure to get some answers, but was also told that if not released, i would be moved into the light security women’s ward where there was more freedom and more to do.

femaleinmat

suddenly keys were in my cell door and the door opened.  was something happening?  was i going to be released?  i saw the guard carrying another bed roll and thought maybe their mistake had been corrected and i was finally getting that second bed roll.  but then a woman walked in, dressed out in the same jumpsuit as me.

i was getting a roommate.

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