Part of our dilemma in the past has been trying to reach those folks, since they probably aren't going to be comfortable with asking for a membership application, even when they learn about us. One reason we developed this website is so that hopefully we can reach those people in the privacy of their own homes and help them deal with this difficult stage of life.
When I left the Army Veterinary Corps in 1987, I went back to my home town, Sutherland Springs, southeast of San Antonio, and set up a mixed practice. It was a mistake in some ways, but I did a lot of community work to keep busy. I even served as president of the Civic Club, which, in an un-incorporated small town, was the same as mayor. At that time, I was in deep denial of my sexuality.
My support system was my English bulldogs, Lady Jane and her son, Bandit. I delivered Bandit by C-section from Lady's second litter. I lost Lady Jane over two years ago. She was a healthy seven-year-old but one day just dropped over dead. But I still had Bandit.
When I moved to Washington, DC over a year and a half ago, my intent was to come out. The support systems here would allow it and since I was stationed here in the early '80s, I somewhat knew what to expect from this city. I researched some of the gay aspects of the area while visiting but, when I finally moved here, I went back into the closet.
Unfortunately, my new job in DC often took me on the road. Since I was alone and I knew he would destroy the house if a sitter came in only once or twice a day, Bandit had to be boarded at a local animal hospital. He didn't mind at all, he liked it there.
I took him there at 4am on a day in late March of this year, one of those strange days in Washington where the heat by mid-day is truly overwhelming. At 75 lbs. with a very stocky build, Bandit could not tolerate extreme temperatures. That early morning, I forgot to tell them his problem with heat.
When I got to my hotel room in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, I had a note to call the hospital. Bandit was dead. I was really alone now, with no support systems at all and had to proceed with negotiations with our labor union in Pine Bluff, tough, unprogressive types with an exclusive God on their side. It was a horrible week, but I stayed together. Could you imagine trying to tell them about Bandit?
Then I got home and had to face picking up Bandit alone. I took him home and kept him in my freezer until I could take him back to Sutherland Springs, where I buried him beside his mother and brother.
Lady and Bandit were my support system, so losing them was difficult. His loss almost destroyed me. Losing Bandit pulled me out, life got too lonely. But the loneliness forced me to take action. I've been in counseling for six weeks now and must admit things are moving very fast and I should have done this a long time ago. So you see, Bandit is still supporting even after his death.
When the LGVMA approached me to write a series of "coming out" articles, they offered for me do it anonymously. My response: "I'd love to write something, but no more anonymous."
Both Lady Jane and Bandit are gone. But I'm happy to go to work now because there will be some e-mail from someone I understand. I'm happy to go home now because I can work on taking care of a long-neglected body and then read to take care of a long-neglected soul. I'm happy to go to bed now because I'm no longer in conflict with my dreams. And I'm happy to get up the next morning.......because now its okay to be me.