Tiny Adds Up: Unshittification and The Pawshank Redemption

Hello, this is a free and open post because oh my god what a month this has been!

If you follow me on BlueSky, you may have seen what's been happening over the last five or six days...and now that it's really, actually happening, I want to tell you all about it in greater than 300 characters.

Also, I got COVID (again) and have been so brutally sick all month I feel like I disappeared off the face of the earth, so it's quite understandable if that's how it's seemed. My lung capacity is still floating somewhere around month-old birthday balloon and standing up has become a fascinating challenge, but I'm slowly getting better. Just in time for an old-fashioned internet miracle.

I've been so busy organizing the logistics of said miracle that I haven't had time to post about it for everyone who wasn't up at 11pm however many nights ago this started.

THIS IS THAT POST.

So my sister-in-law Amanda and I are very close, she is a wonderful human and the "in law" part stopped being a thing awhile ago. And her father died about two weeks ago. We knew he was sick, and that the end was on the horizon, but this was much sooner than expected, and there hadn't been time to put everything in order.

And he left behind that beautiful baby up there, a 2 year old snow-white husky.

Well, sixish days ago, Amanda called to check up on me because of said falling off the earth, and we got to talking about random things. I mentioned how badly Bastian has been wanting a dog, and that I'm trying to hold out for a year because I just can't handle training a puppy right now.

And my sister said "uh...how do you feel about huskies?"

Now, she had no way to know this, but my first dog of my own was a husky, and when she was two, a very awful landlord of mine forced me to give her up or lose my housing. I found her a wonderful family and she had a spectacular life on a literal farm, but it broke my heart to lose her.

She sent a photo, and I had such an odd feeling, one I've only had once before, when I first saw a photo of Lord Byron. My hindbrain just went oh that's my dog, the way it had once thought oh that's my cat. And she's not a puppy. And despite being a husky, she's a pretty chill and gentle girl. And I never got rid of most of Sage or Grimm's things, or the dog bed and toys I had for Fiona, a border collie I was long-term dog-sitting until a few months ago, so I wouldn't need to buy anything...

But at that moment, I really thought there was no way it would be possible. My brother's family lives in southern Oregon, it couldn't be further away. And according to Oregon law, if you don't own your property, any animals found will be taken to a shelter--my sister couldn't get there in time to claim the dog. She was on a five day hold, and that's about all the time we had to figure it out. So the usual ways (cargo plane ride, various non-profits who relay rescues around) were either unworkable because of the needed lead time or so expensive to do on such short notice. I told her I'd look into it but I wasn't optimistic.

I spent most of the day finding out just how much it would cost to fly her to me in any of the methods I knew of (good god) and was on the verge of calling Amanda to say I just couldn't manage it when it occurred to me: back in the day you'd ask the internet if anyone knew another way, and someone probably would. You just don't anymore because it feels like everything has to be politics on the social medias these days.

So late at night I explained briefly to my BlueSky followers and asked if anyone had any ideas that wouldn't cost me Every Money.

Genuinely, I just wanted some guidance as to how people do this with rescues. I wasn't trying to get people to solve my problems for me--I didn't even cross-post to all the other sites I use since the Great Twitter Diaspora, that's how much I wasn't trying to rally anybody to my own cause. I just didn't know what the steps I should be taking were.

I didn't expect in any way for the Old Millennial Internet Spirit to fucking activate.

People started saying "Well, I can drive her to x if you can get her to y and cover expenses..." and a chain started forming that could almost work to get her here. Except for the middle of the country. There just didn't seem like any way to bridge between Idaho or Montana and Minneapolis, where the next westernmost volunteer was.

Then Linkwood Anarchy Hub appeared, and said he could take her all the way from Portland to Minneapolis. Stormzand said he could pick her up at the shelter in Eugene and get her to Portland. SimonsFolly said he could take her from Minneapolis to the New York State Line. RisaWolf said she could get the pup from any NY state border to New Hampshire, and IndependentTeapot said she could bring the girl all the way home from New Hampshire.

And these amazing, kind, generous, thoughtful, beautiful human beings leapt into action so fast that that very smug-looking pup up there who clearly knows how lucky she is, left the shelter Saturday afternoon and is cruising through Idaho as I type this sentence.

(If you want to contribute to expenses, and you do not have to, everything is so tight these days, but if you want to, here is Paypal and Venmo)

And to my knowledge, I have only interacted with one of the Pawshank Redemption (credit: Stormzand) crew on a long-term basis and was following before this Incredible Journey started. They just...saw something happening and wanted to help. And love dogs. And might possibly be saints walking among us.

I genuinely can't believe this is actually happening. I'm pretty sure Bastian doesn't actually think we'll have a dog next week, even though they're excited. But I told them not to set their heart on it when I asked now they'd feel, despite wanting a border collie, about a beautiful white smallwolf. Because I didn't know and personally doubted if we could really do it in time. So I think they're still in "don't get your hopes up" mode.

But the hopes don't need to be kept down anymore. The Puppy Express has departed on its Reverse Oregon Trail journey and could be here as soon as Tuesday night.

I know it's not much in the grand scheme of things. It doesn't solve any part of the hellscape we're all living in right now. And of course I'm thrilled because I get a puppy, but it also filled me with so much hope. We are still, some of us, who we always were. We are still capable of small marvels and caring outlandishly.

I think it's gotten easy to forget we used to do this all the time. Not necessarily the internet at large, and believe me, I'm well aware the pre-algorithm internet was anything but an endless vista of peaches and sunshine, but the geek community part of the internet. Which, believe it or not, hasn't been all of it more or less since Usenet. The bookish, SFF, community-minded people who identified as geeks, not to make money off a new demographic, but just because that's what we were. Who used social media to make genuine human connections, to craft things and be silly and make stuff, not because of some grindset, but because they wanted to. Before the incredible waterfall of human creativity the internet allowed to come into the light of day became just more content. Before the proto-oligarchs saw what little people were doing with their free time and saw the possibility of using it as bait to lead us all into the data-gobbling joy-disposal algorithm-driven online life keeps trying to become.

There was a time that you'd see crazy stories like this on Livejournal or Facebook or Twitter really often, people going out of their way for each other. To save someone's house or business or pet or child. To get a faceless corporation to listen to someone they were screwing. To get help during disasters of all kinds. To tell each other about things we loved and find others who loved them too, or who might if they heard about it. To try a new way of doing art and making delight. I've been part of so many of these stories, sometimes as a helper and sometimes as a person who needed help.

But as more and more of the world has needed much bigger help than any small group of kind hearts can do alone, and as corporate grey goo has spread further and further into every digital space to enshittify, monetize, and exploit genuine human connection and creativity, and as so many scams of so many kinds have crowded out real voices, it's gotten hard to find sparks of that old internet "let's put on a show in the old barn and save Christmas" spirit. It's easy to be cynical, and what's shoved into our faces by the algorithm is meant to create that cynicism, to keep us separate and alone and too anxious to look away from the data-gobbling joy-disposal that online life is becoming.

I was having coffee with a new friend in town as this was all starting to come together, and she shook her head and asked me: "How are you doing this? How is this happening?" I laughed a little. It's been so long since I made a new friend who doesn't know my whole history! And I explained what was happening, and why I have the kind of followers I do online, and finally said: "I don't know, the internet used to be a different sort of place, and when it was, I was a different sort of person, who made and did a lot of things and built a little universe or two...and when you pour your soul into something for a long time, sometimes it comes back to you in strange ways...so I guess maybe somewhere deep down, that place didn't go anywhere." And I thought to myself: maybe that person didn't, either.

Maybe those little universes didn't. Maybe nothing went away. They just got older and sadder and buried by the algorithm for being insufficiently profitable. Not gone. Just sleeping.

Maybe we can just choose to have it back. In small ways. On our own terms. And the thing about small ways is that they tend to add up.

Maybe unshittification is possible. It won't come from the rich and powerful. It won't come from anyone but us, and it'll be much harder than enshittification was. But maybe.

So I know one lonely dog whose owner died doesn't change the world. It doesn't make anything better on a big scale. It's just a dog and a writer and her kid struggling with everyone else. But it's changing my world. And helping me to remember that little, small, connective actions like this is what built that online life and made anyone want to be part of it in the first place. Which is, so sadly, what made all those techbro Decepticons want to eat up all that energy and enthusiasm so they could digest it into numbers in their bank accounts.

They saw what it was worth, and have done an excellent job making us forget that.

Thank you, Puppy Express Gang, for reminding me. For being amazing. For helping my family--my sister Amanda is so relieved that not only is this good girl getting an absurdly spoiled home, but she's staying in the family. And I hope that somehow, somewhere, in some tiny way, a part of her dad sees how many people came together to look after his dog.

Thank you all, for putting on a show in the old barn.

I am so humbled by all this. By the care. by the kindness. It's the little fleck of light in the dark that's left of Fantasia. To me, anyway.

I'll end by telling you about that little wolfie's new name. Because to me, it says all of this in one syllable.

See, I had every intention of naming my next dog Pilot, after the Brontes' dog and the wonderful Farscape character. But I wasn't sure. It didn't really feel quite right for this dog.

Yesterday, as I was wrangling the Puppy Express Group Chat whilst also chatting with the bartender at the place all the islanders go to wait for the next boat. We talked about the music playing, which was prime vintage 2010 indie rock, and about the old internet. Everything I've been talking about. We laughed about how no one wants to admit they liked this music now, it's too sincere and banjo-y to be cool. And, you know, not often does a Good Thing just come out of my mouth without editing and rewriting, but I said: "For a little space, between irony and despair, we were very briefly allowed to like things. We thought things were going to get better now, for about half a second."

So we were already Deep in Feelingsville when I told him about the dog and he started sharing stories about his own childhood dog--and offhandedly mentioned The Velveteen Rabbit.

And it came to me.

Some of you may remember the story of my then-6-year-old's reaction to The Velveteen Rabbit. Not in all my days will I ever forget it.

Before I read it to them, I warned them: "Just so you know, I love this book a lot, but the ending is super sad, okay? Just don't want you to be shocked."

But when we got to the end, Bastian had the biggest smile on his face. "Mom, why did you say that was a sad ending? That was the happiest ending ever!"

I stared at them. The Velveteen Rabbit devastated me as a child. I cried for hours. In my tiny mind, back then, I was the rabbit, abandoned and alone and unremembered.

"But why is it sad?" The little one who has never been abandoned said. "Everyone got what they wanted! The rabbit got to be Real, the boy didn't die, they got to see each other again, the rabbit got to meet that AMAZING fairy and the other rabbits accepted him when they were so mean before! Where is the sad?"

Later that night, I thought about that dumb dress from the Late Modern Internet. The one that some people saw as black and blue and some saw as white and gold and they'd all go to the mat for the colors they perceived. And the thing was, if you remember, that if you looked long and hard enough, or switched your angle on it in just the right way, you could see the other color, but it was almost impossible to switch back once you'd done it.

And for me, The Velveteen Rabbit will never be black and blue again. It will always be joyful gold. Everyone got what they wanted. And they did, at that. It doesn't escape me that this dog could easily still be with us when Bastian graduates high school. That we'll look back and say: wow, remember when all those people crossed the continent to bring her to us? Remember when you loved The Velveteen Rabbit?

God, what a story. And stories are all there is. Moments and stories add up to a life.

I bought my child a necklace made from the illustration of the fairy in the book. I put it around their neck and said: "I got you this so that you never forget that the way you see things is precious and unique. Sometimes in this world it's hard to hold onto that, to hold onto such a big heart when everyone is telling you to make it smaller. But the way one person sees things can change everything. Can even change sadness into happiness."

This is Vel. Short for Velveteen. Because if you look at something a little differently, something you really thought you knew and understood, and try to remember believing in things and in people, just one little shift can change sadness into happiness.

Thank you to everyone who has been part of this breath of magic and connection blowing some light under the door in this dark, uncertain time. I will never forget this. Neither should you.

It's all just us. The internet, the world. It's just us, and if we choose to, in the tiniest ways, we can choose to keep our focus on each other instead of wherever it is the money men want us to look this week.

Maybe sometimes the tiny ways are all we have. Just because they're tiny doesn't mean they don't matter.

Tiny adds up.