I Forgot To Tell You...

June 3, 2006

Dearest Shannon,

Today I awoke in a sun-filled room. I'd dreamed about my trip to New Orleans to finally meet you and stay in your home. In that hazy rift between sleep and wakefulness, I did not remember you were gone.

I forgot to tell you: When we worked on Louisiana's Pet Evacuation Bill materials, you were so patient and kind. I was the stress machine. You thanked me many times for the PSAs, releases, and letter campaigns. That was your way, at least with me... I began to look forward to our conversations. Because, as women do, we'd passed from "professional" to personal. A bond had formed. I miss you Shannon and have this insane urge to call you.

I forgot to tell you: Thank you for your help when my puppy, rescued from a Missouri puppy mill, came home with a parvo-like condition, coccidia, giardia, and two little legs with missing bones. While Mandy was hospitalized on IV fluids, you called and called. You consulted your veterinarian uncle for advice. You were just there, unconditionally and completely. I wish you could see Mandy now. She is a spastic fluffball. We call her the walking "hair-do."

I forgot to tell you: We were kindred spirits, you and I, with that precarious dose of passion and pain. Needing approval, but forging ahead, obsessively so. The last time we talked at length, I wanted to share a hundred more stories. You were a comfortable ear. I could open up, as you did with me. I don't connect easily. I grieve the friendship we lost and the one that would have grown.

For you Shannon, that line between valor and sorrow was thinly etched. People who practice compassion -- not on a whim, but as their core -- waken to daily questions: Can I save just one? How many can I speak for today? The fragile heart feels too much. Sees too much. Hears too much. Empathy gives way to anger and confusion. To experience the fear and pain of infinite animals can break the soul. Without a lifeline, isolation becomes unbearable.

I can never know the depth of your despair in those final hours Shannon. Like many who knew you, I am plagued with a thousand What-Ifs. I do know the world has lost an imperfect angel. A gentle spirit who could no longer find reason for hope.

Sleep among angels, sweet Shannon. And bring your love to the animals we couldn't save...

I know you'd think this letter is a mush-fest and it would probably embarrass you. But the thing is, I forgot to tell you how much I cared.

Your friend,

Brenda
info@kinshipcircle.org

Shannon Moore’s work for animals leaves an imprint that transcends her death.

Although Katrina ravaged her own home and possessions, Shannon looked into the eyes of forgotten animals and saw hope. She never viewed animal storm victims as a finite problem, but rather, as part of a continuum to elevate animal welfare standards in Louisiana.

Shannon planned and carried out a People & Pets March to Louisiana’s state capitol in Baton Rouge.

She was instrumental in rallying support and awareness about SB-607, Louisiana’s Pet Evacuation Bill. Working with Kinship Circle’s Brenda Shoss, press releases, PSAs, alerts, flyers, and action campaigns were streamlined into a non-stop push to pass a bill that ensures no pets are left behind in the next disaster.

On behalf of the animals she loved, Shannon formed (SOS) Supporters of Save Our Pets, and worked tirelessly to save the lives of hundreds of thousands of hurricane stranded animals. Shannon volunteered for food/water programs to sustain displaced pets and strays in the streets. She advocated spay/neuter drives to help curb a pet overpopulation crisis worsened by roaming animals in the aftermath of last year’s storms.

Shannon realized most of the lost souls she comforted knew warm laps, familiar voices and homes before the hurricanes. She became a Stealth Volunteer to assist in reunions between pets and their people.

Horses were Shannon’s great love, and to help them she created the HayThere group to assist hay producers and consumers via an online marketplace for hay and feed goods.

One of Shannon’s great gifts was an innate ability to bring information, people, transports and supplies together. If all else failed, she'd hop into a vehicle and deliver the feed/supplies herself. It is difficult to estimate
the huge quantity of food and supplies she moved for large and small animals struggling to survive in Gulf Coast areas. She was a one-woman information clearinghouse. Any animal rescue group who needed statistics, a news story, or contact information counted on Shannon.

Shannon practiced compassion in an unassuming way that never called for recognition or accolades. She simply embraced the lives of people and animals as if they were her own. Shannon Moore was a friend, daughter, wife, and angel for animals. We’ll feel her presence in her many great achievements. Still, we will miss her everyday.

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