There's always a straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back (no cruelty intended) and for Cricket, it was calamari. Calamari was her catharsis.
She had recently discovered the succulent squid she loved eating so much were intelligent creatures; studies had proven they were as smart as dogs. "How can I eat something that has the same intelligence as my family's pet? How cruel!"
She stopped eating calamari.
There were other telltale signs of enlightenment for Cricket; creeping into her subconscious long before the calamari, but she hadn't realized it. It seemed every time she turned around, she'd hear, see or read about another animal cruelty-related incident.
She felt plagued by the subject; like an itch that always needed scratched: mistreatment of cattle at a slaughter house, a professional athlete's fighting dogs, puppy-making farms gone awry or pet abandonment; that constant, itch.
She'd always bought beef, chicken, lamb and pork at the grocery store; efficiently, pleasingly packaged and sealed, all ready to be cooked; thinking nothing of it, until one day something snapped inside her; somewhere a light-bulb went on, "THE CALAMARI!" she gasped while standing in the meat section at the market; looking down at the refrigerated packages of meat.
Her conscious mind had finally caught up to her subconscious, like a hammer against a nail, forcing its way in. "...those packages...living and breathing creatures...I can't eat it this! It makes me sick to my stomach...."
She became a vegan.
Cricket was a petite-framed woman; standing a defiant but diminutive 5'2". What she lacked in body size, she made up for in bravado, wit, charm, beauty and intelligence. She had the personality of a firecracker; making lots of noise; attracting lots of attention and sparkling beautifully while doing so.
Flecks of gold shimmered off her chestnut-colored, spiraling curls sitting just past her shoulders; framing her small, button nose, large, round, brown eyes and pouty, pink lips.
She had willowy arms and legs and her complexion was fair; and soft, like sweet cream. She had a small, sassy, round butt, a long waist and small, perky breasts.
Men found her attractive, but she was usually disinterested; she had never met anyone that shared her passions; so she found more important things to do; things to obsess over; and saving animals was her current preoccupation.
Her obsessive compulsive disorder wasn't clinically proven, but she had all the text book symptoms of OCD: Lamenting and obsessing over a specific issue; beating it into the ground; pulverized until it bled into all other areas of her life.
Once she decided to become a vegan, she became obsessed with trying to make everyone else around her vegan also; ranting about a calamari's intelligence and animal cruelty to anyone crossing her path; her OCD was in overdrive.
She had good intentions; lifting a perfectly arched eyebrow in displeasure at those who weren't buying into her 'don't eat meat' campaign
"Yes. I'd like to speak with someone about volunteering." Cricket requested, speaking into the phone to a faceless someone at the Protective Animal Shelter.
"Tonight? Yes. I think I can get over there shortly after 5:00 P.M." she said, writing the directions down onto her "Things To Do Today" pad.
"I should ask for Ben? Okay. Thank you." Hanging up from her cell phone, Cricket then drove the short distance from work to the Protective Animal Shelter; pulling into a parking space shortly after 5:00 P.M. as she had promised and giving herself a quick look in the rear-view mirror.
The minute she walked through the doors of the animal shelter, her senses awoke. She could smell the residue of cleaning disinfectant, mixed with urine, feces and pet dander; she saw a poster hanging on the wall to her left; a sad, puppy's eyes greeted her; pleading for a home.
She suddenly felt overwhelmed with empathy for the animals she envisioned lying in cages within the thick walls of the building. She heard the sounds of cats meowing and dogs barking in the distance. She felt sad and wondered if this was a mistake.
"Can I really do this?" she thought to herself.
Approaching the reception desk a voice inquired, "May I help you?" Searching for the voice, she saw a man standing in the doorway; leading to where the animals must reside. He had rough-n'-tumble good looks; standing roughly at 5'11". If she had to guess, she'd say he looked like he weighed about 175 pounds.
His three day-old unshaven face paid tribute to his tusseled, thick, wavy dishwater-blond hair. Hazel eyes peered up at her from behind the clipboard he was holding. He wore a white lab coat, blue-jeans and a pair of sneakers.
"Yes. I'm Cricket. I'm here to find out about volunteering." she answered moving further into the room; closer to the receptionist area where he was standing.
"Oh. Okay, yeah. I'm Ben. Give me a minute and I'll give you a tour," his response was short, curt; to the point.
Ben disappeared behind the door; closing it behind him. Cricket was left alone in the waiting area. She walked toward the receptionist desk, eyes skimming the brochures and pamphlets; reference materials for people interested in adopting a pet.
The door opened and he was back. "Sorry about that." He said walking toward her, clipboard still in hand. "I'm here by myself for a couple of hours and well; sometimes things can get little hectic around here."
"I understand." Cricket responded smiling nervously.
"Do you have an idea of what you think you'd like to do with your volunteer time...uhhh... it's Cricket? Right?" he inquired while looking down at his clipboard, not really paying much attention to her.
