When It Rains, It Pours: September at Dumbrava

There are periods at Dumbrava when things are busy, but somehow manageable. There is always food to order, an animal who needs something, children to take somewhere, an activity to organise, something to repair or a bill waiting to be paid. We've become fairly good at juggling all of it.

And then there are periods like this one, when somebody apparently keeps adding balls to the juggling act just to see what happens.

We entered September already carrying a veterinary bill of around 9,000 RON for July. It includes the annual vaccines for dogs who have been in our care for years, tests and treatments for the kittens and the usual collection of veterinary interventions that don't seem enormous individually, but become rather impressive once somebody puts them together on the same invoice.

Mădă has been slightly wobbly since she came in our care, but at first we thought it was the usual story we see far too often: malnutrition, lack of calcium and a generally poor start in life. We expected that with proper food, care and time she would become stronger and steadier. Instead, things started to deteriorate. Her balance and coordination became worse, which led us down a very different path and into neurological investigations. Several tests have already been done, we're still waiting for some of the results, and depending on what they tell us, an MRI may be the next step.

Táltos's leg problems aren't new either. We've been trying to find a solution for years, seeking help both locally and in Cluj, but unfortunately without much improvement. It took us a while to finally get in touch with a clinic in Harghita County that could help him, and naturally the timing coincided beautifully with everything else happening this month. He needed several X-rays of his legs and hips, special orthopedic horseshoes and almost a week of accommodation at the clinic. This isn't a one-time expense either. We'll need to take him back every month so his legs can be checked and his orthopedic horseshoes properly maintained.

Roxy needs to start hydrotherapy as soon as possible, but with the flood of expenses we've had lately, we simply haven't been able to start it yet. Thor, meanwhile, has started laser therapy for the injury that stubbornly refuses to heal despite everything we've tried. Behind all these newer expenses, the regular ones continue as usual. Felix and Mara still need their ongoing monthly treatments, along with all the food, medication and routine care that are simply part of everyday life at Dumbrava.

And while we were trying to figure out how to cover all of that, the water pipe broke. Again. It wasn't a small leak either, and the water loss has already resulted in a 212 RON bill for last month. We expect the next one to be somewhere in the same range, and on top of the extra water we also have the cost of repairing the pipe itself. Apparently paying for water once wasn't quite enough. This month we get to pay for the water we didn't use as well.

We had actually joked shortly before this about waiting to see what would hit us next. Some of you told us not to jinx ourselves. You were right. The windshield of the van broke too.

At this point, we've decided that asking “what next?” is an activity we should probably remove permanently from the Dumbrava programme.

Then another order arrived. Approximately 9,000 RON for dog food and pads for the sterilization campaign. Apparently 9,000 RON is our number of the month.

Somewhere between animals, pipes, vehicles and invoices, however, there are also promises we actually want to keep.

At the beginning of summer, we challenged the children to spend three months learning languages on Duolingo. We promised three Cărturești vouchers worth 300 RON each as prizes, and they took us seriously. They've worked throughout the summer, kept their streaks going, collected XP and, more importantly, we've watched them understand and use more English and German along the way. Now the competition is almost over, and we need another 900 RON for their prizes. Could we look at everything else happening right now and decide that book vouchers aren't essential? Of course. But we made a promise. They did their part for three months, and we want to do ours.

And perhaps that's the best description of day-to-day life at Dumbrava.

There isn't one single enormous problem that, once solved, makes everything easy again. There are animals who need treatment, children waiting for prizes they've worked for, sterilization campaigns that need supplies, food that needs ordering, vehicles that need repairing, pipes that apparently have strong opinions about remaining intact, activities to organise, bills to pay and dozens of completely ordinary things that simply have to happen.

They also rarely have the courtesy to happen one at a time.

The dogs and cats continue eating with absolutely no respect for our financial situation. Treatments continue. We still need fuel to get animals to clinics and children to activities. There is electricity and water to pay, cleaning supplies to buy, repairs to make and all the other wonderfully unphotogenic things that keep Dumbrava functioning.

Somewhere between paying for all of those things, we also need the time and energy to do the things Dumbrava actually exists for. We need to care for the animals, spend time with the children, organise activities for the elderly, run sterilization campaigns and help where we can in our community.

We joke about the chaos because humour remains one of the few things around here that doesn't arrive with an invoice...for now. But underneath the jokes, the truth is that we're tired. Physically, mentally and, right now, very much financially.

The unexpected expenses are particularly difficult because they don't replace the expected ones. They simply land on top of them. Food doesn't become cheaper because a pipe breaks. Felix and Mara don't stop needing their treatments because a windshield needs replacing. Táltos finally finding the right help doesn't mean we can postpone everything else. Roxy still needs her hydrotherapy. And a promise made to the children at the beginning of summer doesn't disappear because September turned out to be expensive.

This is why even very small donations matter so much to us.

10, 20 or 50 RON may not look like much beside a 9,000 RON invoice, but Dumbrava isn't kept running by one person appearing and solving everything. It's kept running by many people carrying small pieces of it with us.

Recurring donations give us something even more valuable: a little predictability. Knowing that part of next month's food, treatments, fuel or children's activities is already covered makes it considerably easier to deal with whatever unexpected problem arrives next.

Because something probably will. We've simply decided we're no longer going to ask what.

If you can help us through this particularly expensive period, whether with a one-time donation or a small monthly contribution, we'd be enormously grateful. And if donating isn't possible right now, sharing our story matters too. It might reach somebody who can help with one little piece of this very large and very strange puzzle.

We don't need one person to solve everything.

We need enough people to help us keep all these different pieces of Dumbrava moving: the animals, the children, the activities, the sterilization campaigns, the buildings, the vehicles and, apparently, the plumbing.

Hopefully the universe considers this list complete.

Dumbrava lui Patrocle
Locul unde învățăm să iubim.