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WHY WE RESCUE:
 How Could You?
I Am An Animal Rescuer. I Found Your Dog Today.
When I Am Old.
A Man And His Dog...
Today I Made A Difference.
The Love They Give Us.
Rainbow Bridge.
Rainbow Bridge (sequel).
Lucky's Treasures.
Let No One Be Discouraged .
I Adopted Your Pet Today.
Autumn.
The Journey of Loving a Pet.
A Dog's Christmas Poem.
Just a Dog.
If I Didn't Have Dogs.
The Old Man and The Dog.
If You've Ever ...
I Rescued a Human Today.
A Christmas Dog Wish.
My Foster Dog.
God's Covenant With All Creatures.
A Gospel For Every Creature.
Love Without Limit.
I Am The Voice Of The Voiceless.
Saying Goodbye Every Day.
A Poem For Fosters.
One By One.
A Chained Dog's Plea.
The Reason.
Cheyenne.
"I Am An Animal Rescuer."
My job is to assist God's creatures
I was born with the need to fulfill their needs
I take in new family members without plan, thought or selection
I have bought dog food with my last dime
I have patted a mangy head with a bare hand
I have hugged someone vicious and afraid
I have fallen in love a thousand times
and I have cried into the fur of a lifeless body
I have animal friends and friends who have animal friends
I don't often use the word "pet"
I notice those lost at the road side
and my heart aches
I will hand raise a field mouse
and make friends with a vulture
I know of no creature unworthy of my time
I want to live forever if there aren't animals in Heaven
But I believe there are.
Why would God make something so perfect and leave it behind?
We may be master of the animals,
but the animals have mastered themselves
something people still haven't learned
War and abuse make me hurt for the world
But a rescue that makes the news gives me hope for humankind
We are a quiet but determined army
and making a difference every day
There is nothing more necessary than warming an orphan
nothing more rewarding than saving a life
No higher recognition than watching them thrive
There is no greater joy than seeing a baby play
when only days ago, was too weak to eat
I Am An Animal Rescuer
My work is never done
My home is never quiet
My wallet is always empty
But my heart is always full
In the game of life, I have already won.
~ Annette King Tucker.
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“When I Am Old.”
I shall wear Turquoise and soft gray sweatshirts ... and a bandana over my silver hair.....and I shall spend my Social Security Checks on Sweet Wine and My Dogs.......and sit in my house on my well-worn chair and listen to my dog's breathing.
I will sneak out in the middle of a warm Summer night and take my dogs for a run, if my old bones will allow..... and when people come to call, I will smile and nod as I show them my dogs...and talk of them and about them...
The Ones so Beloved of the Past and the Ones so Beloved of Today....
I still will work hard cleaning after them and mopping and feeding them and whispering their names in a soft, loving way.. I will wear the gleaming sweat on my throat, like a jewel. And I will be an embarrassment to all...and my family ... who have not yet found the peace in being free. These friends who always wait, at any hour, for your footfall...and eagerly jump to their feet out of a sound sleep, to greet you as if you are a God.
With warm eyes full of adoring love and hope that you will stay and hug their big, strong necks...and kiss their dear sweet heads...and whisper to them of your love and the beautiful pleasure of their very special company....
I look in the mirror.....and see I am getting old .... this is the kind of woman I am...and have always been. Loving dogs is easy, they are part of me, accept me for who I am, my dogs appreciate my presence in their lives...when I am old this will be important to me...you will understand when you are old....and if you have dogs to love too.
~ Author Unknown.
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"I Found Your Dog Today."
I found your dog today. No, he has not been adopted by anyone. Most of us who live out here own as many dogs as we want. Those who do not own dogs choose not to.
I know you hoped he would find a good home when you left him out here, but he did not.
When I first saw him he was miles from the nearest house and he was alone, thirsty, thin and limping from a burr on his paw. How I wish I could have been you as I stood before him. To see his tail wag and his eyes brighten as he bounded into your arms, knowing you would find him, knowing you had not forgotten him. To see the forgiveness in his eyes for the suffering and pain he had known in his never-ending quest to find you.
But, I was not you and despite all my persuasion his eyes saw a stranger he did not trust. He would not come. He turned and continued his journey – one he was sure would bring him to you. He does not understand that you are not looking for him. He only knows you are out there. He only knows he must find you. This is more important than food or water or the stranger who can give him these things. Persuasion and pursuit seemed futile.
I didn't even know his name. I drove home, filled a bucket with water and a bowl with food and returned to where we had met. I could see no sign of him , but I left my offering under the tree where he had sought shelter from the sun and a chance to rest. You see, he is not of the wild. When you domesticated him, you took away any instinct for survival out there.
His purpose demands that he travel during the day. He doesn't know that the sun and the heat will claim his life. He only knows that he has to find you.
I waited, hoping he would return to the tree, hoping my gift would build an element of trust so I might bring him home, remove the burr from his foot, give him a cool place to lie down and help him understand that the part of his life with you is now over.
He did not return that morning, and at dusk the water and food were still there untouched. And I worried. You must understand that many people would not attempt to help your dog. Some would run him off. Others would call the county or police and the fate you thought you saved him from would be preempted by his suffering for days without food or water.
I returned again before dark. I did not see him. I went again early the next morning only to find the food and water still untouched. If only you were here to call his name. Your voice is so familiar to him.
I began pursuit in the direction he had taken yesterday, doubt overshadowing my hope of finding him. His search for you was desperate. It could take him many miles in 24 hours.
It is hours later and a good distance from where we first met, but I found your dog.
His thirst has stopped. It is no longer a torment to him. His hunger has disappeared. He no longer aches. The burrs in his paws bother him no more. Your dog has been set free from his burdens.
You see, your dog has died.
I knelt next to him and I cursed you for not being here yesterday so I could see the glow, if just for a moment, in those now vacant eyes.
I pray that his journey has taken him to that place I think you hoped he would find.
If only you knew what he went through to reach it.
And, I agonize for I know that were he to awaken at this moment and if I were to be you, his eyes would sparkle with recognition and his tail would wag with forgiveness.
~ Author unknown.
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"A Man and His Dog."
A Man And His Dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up."
The man gestured, and the gate began to open.
"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.
As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"There should be a bowl by the pump."
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.
The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.
When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is Heaven," he answered.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"
"No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind."
~ Author Unknown.
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“Today I Made A Difference.”
I will never bring about world peace. I won't single handedly save the rain forest.
I am not a brain surgeon, and I will never transplant an organ to save a life. I don't have the ear of a powerful politician or world power.
I can't end world hunger. I am not a celebrity, and God knows I am not glamorous! I am not looked up to by millions around the world. Very few people even recognize my name.
I will never win a Nobel prize, or end global warming. There are a lot of things I will never do or become....
But today I placed a Dog.
It was a small, scared bundle of flesh and bones that was dropped off in a shelter by people that didn't care what happened to it, but yet were responsible for its very existence in the first place.
I found it a Home, a Forever Home.
It now has contentment and an abundance of love. A warm place to sleep and plenty to eat. Two little boys have a warm and fuzzy new friend who will love them unquestioning, and teach them about responsibility and love.
A wife and a mother has a new spirit to nurture and care for. A husband and father has a companion to sit at his feet at the end of a hard day of work and help him relax and enjoy life.
No, I am not a rocket scientist... But TODAY, I made a difference.
~ Author Unknown.
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“The Love They Give Us.”
Not only is there always another good animal in need of a good home, but we must remember to be thankful for the time and love our animals give us while they are here. Take time to enjoy them and learn from them. As painful as it is to lose them, they teach us to love unselfishly, they teach us to live each day to the fullest, they teach us how to grow old gracefully, and they teach us how to die with dignity. We do them a disrespect to focus only on the sorrow of their death when they have given us so much joy through their life. If we wish to honor them, take what they have given us, all that love, and give it back to another animal in need of help.
~ Kent C. Greenough.
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“How Could You?”
~ Jim Willis, 2001.
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was “bad,” you’d shake your finger at me and ask “How could you?” -- but then you’d relent and roll me over for a belly rub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because “ice cream is bad for dogs’ you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a “dog person” -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a “prisoner of love.” As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would’ve defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes” and changed the subject. I had gone from being “your dog” to “just a dog,” and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You’ve made the right decision for your “family,” but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said “I know you will find a good home for her.” They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with “papers.” You had to pry your son’s fingers loose from my collar as he screamed “No, Daddy! Please don’t let them take my dog!” And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked “How could you?”
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you, that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured “How could you?” Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said “I’m so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my “How could you?” was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master; I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
* * *
A Note From The Author: If “How Could You?” brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly “owned” pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a non-commercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
~ Jim Willis.
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“Rainbow Bridge (sequel)”
When a person who has given tirelessly and made it their life's work to
save and succor abandoned animals and find them happy homes comes to
the bridge, first one animal will stop and look into the distance, then
more and more will look up and watch. For this is a person all the animals
know about. As they have waited for their loved one(s), they have told the
story of their rescue from loneliness, neglect and impending death, and the
wonderful people who helped them until a special loved one could be found.
Oh special friend of animals, you have been spotted, and all the dogs and
other animal friends will run over the fields to thank the person who has
enabled so many to have had good lives and memories. Then, will they all
walk to the gate of St. Peter and say, "This is a person whose name is
surely entered on the roll once for each of us whose life was changed."
Then those friends who will be forever together step forward and, to
the sound of great rejoicing from all the animals, cross the bridge
together.
Lucky's Treasures.
Mary and her husband Jim had a dog named 'Lucky.' Lucky was a real character. Whenever Mary and Jim had company come for a weekend visit, they would warn their friends to not leave their luggage open because Lucky would help himself to whatever struck his fancy. Inevitably, someone would forget and something would come up missing. Mary or Jim would go to Lucky's toy box in the basement and there the treasure would be, amid all of Lucky's other favorite toys. Lucky always stashed his finds in his toy box, and he was very particular that his toys stay in the box.
It happened that Mary found out she had breast cancer. Something told her she was going to die of this disease.... in fact, she was just sure it was fatal. She scheduled the double mastectomy, fear riding her shoulders.
The night before she was to go to the hospital she cuddled with Lucky. A thought struck her... what would happen to Lucky? Although the three-year-old dog liked Jim, he was Mary's dog through and through. If I die, Lucky will be abandoned, Mary thought. He won't understand that I didn't want to leave him. The thought made her sadder than thinking of her own death.
The double mastectomy was harder on Mary than her doctors had anticipated, and Mary was hospitalized for over two weeks. Jim took Lucky for his evening walk faithfully, but the little dog just drooped, whining and miserable.
Finally the day came for Mary to leave the hospital. When she arrived home, Mary was so exhausted she couldn't even make it up the steps to her bedroom. Jim made his wife comfortable on the couch and left her to nap.
Lucky stood watching Mary but he didn't come to her when she called. It made Mary sad, but sleep soon overcame her and she dozed. When Mary woke, for a second she couldn't understand what was wrong. She couldn't move her head and her body felt heavy and hot. But panic soon gave way to laughter when Mary realized the problem. She was covered, literally blanketed, with every treasure Lucky owned! While she had slept, the sorrowing dog had made trip after trip to the basement bringing his beloved mistress all his favorite things in life. He had covered her with his love.
Mary forgot about dying. Instead she and Lucky began living again, walking further and further together every day. It's been 12 years now and Mary is still cancer-free. Lucky? He still steals treasures and stashes them in his toy box but Mary remains his greatest treasure.
Remember.... live every day to the fullest. Each minute is a blessing from God. And never forget.... the people who make a difference in our lives are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care for us.
Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
"Let No One Be Discouraged . . ."
Let no one be discouraged by the belief that there is nothing one person can do against the enormous array of the world's ills, misery, ignorance and violence. Few will have the greatness to bend history, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events. And in the total of all those acts will be written the history of a generation. It is from numberless, diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a person stands up for an ideal or acts to improve the lot of others or strikes out against injustice, he or she sends a tiny ripple of hope. Crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples can build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.
~ Robert F. Kennedy.
I ADOPTED YOUR PET TODAY...
I adopted your pet today...
The one you left at the pound;
The one you had for years
And no longer wanted around.
I adopted your pet today...
Did you know that he's lost weight?
Did you know he's scared and depressed
And seems to have lost all faith?
I adopted your pet today...
He had fleas and a little cold;
Guess you don't care what shape he's in
— You abandoned him I am told.
I adopted your pet today...
Were you having a baby or moving away?
Did you suddenly develop allergies,
Or was there NO reason he couldn't stay?
I adopted your pet today...
He doesn't play or even eat much;
I guess he's very sad inside and
It'll take time for him to trust.
I adopted your pet today...
And here he is going to stay;
He's found his FOREVER home
And a warm bed in which to lay.
I adopted your pet today...
And shall give him all that he will need
— Patience, love, and security,
So he can forget your selfish deed.
AUTUMN.
What do we do when our loving pets face the last leg of the race? We do all we can to help them finish well, of course. We take time to read the unspoken needs of the friends we've come to know so well. We give the simple reassurance of a loving touch when the old boy seems confused for no reason.
We groom them faithfully, but more gently, as age brings muscle wasting, and the arthritic bones aren't so well padded.
We learn to slow down for their sake, as they enjoy the scent of the wind, or track a visitor's trail across their yard.
We expect to be inconvenienced, and aren't angry when it happens.
We watch for pain and treat it, watch for changes in vision and hearing and do what we can to help preserve those precious senses for as long as possible.
We take care of their teeth, and make sure their food is a manageable texture for them.
We remind them of the need for a potty walk when they seem to forget.
We remember the little rewards. We scratch the graying ears and tummy, and go for car rides together. When the pet we love has an unexplained need for comfort, we give it freely.
When infirmities bring a sense of vulnerability, we become our old guardian's protector.
We watch their deepest slumbers, when dreams take them running across long-forgotten fields, and we remember those fields too. When they cannot stand alone, we lift them.
When their steps are uncertain, we steady them.
And if their health fails, it falls to us to make the choice that will gently put them to rest.
But until that is absolutely necessary, we pause to let the autumn sun warm our old friend's bones. And we realize, autumn is not a bad time of year at all.
Old age is not a disease or a reason to give up. It is a stage of life that brings its own changes. Autumn can be a beautiful time of harvest.
And, sometimes, the harvest is love.
~ Christy Caballero
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The Journey of Loving a Pet
When you bring a pet into your life, you begin a journey......a journey that
will bring you more love and devotion than you have ever known, yet also
test your strength and courage.
If you allow, the journey will teach you many things, about life, about
yourself, and most of all, about love. You will come away changed forever,
for one soul cannot touch another without leaving its mark.
Along the way, you will learn much about savoring life's simple pleasures...
Jumping in leaves, snoozing in the sun, the joys of puddles and even the
satisfaction of a good scratch behind the ears.
If you spend much time outside, you will be taught how to truly experience
every element, for no rock, leaf, or log will go unexamined, no rustling
bush will be overlooked, and even the very air will be inhaled, pondered,
and noted as being full of valuable information. Your pace may be slower
except when heading home to the food dish but you will become a better
naturalist, having been taught by an expert in the field.
Too many times we hike on automatic pilot, our goal being to complete the
trail rather than enjoy the journey. We miss the details...the colorful
mushrooms on the rotting log, the honeycomb in the old maple snag; the hawk
feather caught on a twig. Once we walk as a dog does, we discover a whole
new world.
We stop...we browse the landscape, we kick over leaves, peek in tree holes,
look up, down, all around. And we learn what any dog knows: that nature has
created a marvelously complex world that is full of surprises, that each
cycle of the seasons bring ever changing wonders, each day an essence all
its own.
Even from indoors you will find yourself more attuned to the world around
you. You will find yourself watching summer insects collecting on a
screen..(How bizarre they are! How many kinds there are! Or noting the
flick and flash of fireflies through the dark. You will stop to observe the
swirling dance of windblown leaves, or sniff the air after a rain. It does
not matter that there is no objective in this; the point is in the doing, in
not letting life's most important details slip by.
You will find yourself doing silly things that your pet-less friends might
not understand: spending thirty minutes in the grocery aisle looking for the
cat food brand your feline must have, buying dog birthday treats, or driving
around the block an extra time because your pet enjoys the ride. You will
roll in the snow, wrestle with chewy toys, bounce little rubber balls till
your eyes cross, and even run around the house trailing your bathrobe tie
with a cat in hot pursuit - all in the name of love.
Your house will become muddier and hairier. You will wear less dark clothing
and buy more lint rollers. You may find dog biscuits in your pocket or
purse, and feel the need to explain that an old plastic shopping bag adorns
your living room rug because your cat loves the crinkly sound.
You will learn the true measure of love...the steadfast, undying kind that
says, "It doesn't matter where we are or what we do, or how life treats us
as long as we are together." Respect this always. It is the most precious
gift any living soul can give another. You will not find it often among the
human race.
And you will learn humility. The look in my dog's eyes often made me feel
ashamed. Such joy and love at my presence. She saw not some flawed human who
could be cross and stubborn, moody or rude, but only her wonderful
companion. Or maybe she saw those things and dismissed them as mere human
foibles, not worth considering, and so chose to love me anyway.
If you pay attention and learn well, when the journey is done, you will be
not just a better person, but the person your pet always knew you to be –
the one they were proud to call beloved friend.
I must caution you that this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of
true love, the pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one
day your dear animal companion will follow a trail you cannot yet go down.
And you will have to find the strength and love to let them go. A pet's
time on earth is far too short - especially for those that love them. We
borrow them, really, just for awhile, and during these brief years they are
generous enough to give us all their love, every inch of their spirit and
heart, until one day there is nothing left.
The cat that only yesterday was a kitten is all too soon old and frail and
sleeping in the sun. The young pup of boundless energy wakes up stiff and
lame, the muzzle now gray. Deep down we somehow always knew that this
journey would end. We knew that if we gave our hearts they would be broken.
But give them we must for it is all they ask in return. When the time comes,
and the road curves ahead to a place we cannot see, we give one final gift
and let them run on ahead - young and whole once more.
"Godspeed, my sweet friend," we say, until our journey comes full circle and
our paths cross again.
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A Rescue Dog's Christmas Poem.
Tis the night before Christmas and all through the town,
every shelter is full - we are lost, but not found,
Our numbers are hung on our kennels so bare,
we hope every minute that someone will care,
They'll come to adopt us and give us the call,
"Come here, Max and Sparkie - come fetch your new ball!!
But now we sit here and think of the days...
we were treated so fondly - we had cute, baby ways,
Once we were little, then we grew and we grew
now we're no longer young and we're no longer new.
So out the back door we were thrown like the trash,
they reacted so quickly - why were they so rash?
We "jump on the children:, "don't co me when they call",
we "bark when they leave us", climb over the wall.
We should have been neutered, we should have been spayed,
now we suffer the consequence of the errors THEY made.
If only they'd trained us, if only we knew...
we'd have done what they asked us and worshiped them, too.
We were left in the backyard, or worse -let to roam-
now we're tired and lonely and out of a home.
They dropped us off here and they kissed us good-bye...
"Maybe someone else will give you a try."
So now here we are, all confused and alone...
in a shelter with others who long for a home.
The kind workers come through with a meal and a pat,
with so many to care for, they can't stay to chat,
They move to the next kennel, giving each of us cheer...
we know that they wonder how long we'll be here.
We lay down to sleep and sweet dreams fill our heads...
of a home filled with love and our own cozy beds.
Then we wake to see sad eyes, brimming with tears -
our friends filled with emptiness, worry, and fear.
If you can't adopt us and there's no room at the Inn -
could you help with the bills and fill our food bin?
We count on your kindness each day of the year -
can you give more than hope to everyone here?
Please make a donation to pay for the heat...
and help get us something special to eat.
The shelter that cares for us wants us to live,
and more of us will, if more people will give.
~ Author Unknown
Return to Index
|
From time to time, people tell me, "lighten up, it's just a dog,"
or, "that's a lot of money for just a dog."
They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent, or the costs involved for "just a dog."
Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a dog."
Many hours have passed and my only company was "just a dog,"
but I did not once feel slighted.
Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a dog,"
and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a dog" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.
If you, too, think it's "just a dog," then you will probably understand
phrases like "just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise."
"Just a dog" brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust,
and pure unbridled joy.
"Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person.
Because of "just a dog", I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.
So for me and folks like me, it's not "just a dog" but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future,
the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.
"Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away
from myself and the worries of the day.
I hope that someday they can understand that it's not "just a dog",
but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being
"just a man or woman."
So the next time you hear the phrase "just a dog"
just smile...
because they "just don't understand."
by Richard Biby
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Contributing Editor VHD
From "The Versatile Hunting Dog"
NAVHDA's Magazine
February 2006
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If I Didn't Have Dogs...
I could walk around the yard barefoot.
My house could be carpeted instead of tiled and laminated.
All flat surfaces, clothing, furniture, and cars would be free of hair.
When the doorbell rings, it wouldn't sound like a kennel.
When the doorbell rings, I could get to the door without wading through
fuzzy bodies who beat me there.
I could sit on the couch and my bed the way I wanted, without taking into
consideration how much space several fur bodies would need to get comfortable.
I would not have strange presents under my Christmas tree -- dog bones, stuf
fed animals, toys, treats nor would I have to explain to people why I wrap
them.
I would have money ....and no guilt to go on a real vacation.
I would not be on a first-name basis with 6 veterinarians, as I put their yet unborn
grandkids through college.
The most used words in my vocabulary would not be: out, sit, down, come, no,
stay, and leave him/her/it ALONE.
My house would not be cordoned off into zones with baby gates or barriers.
My house would not look like a day care center, toys everywhere.
My pockets would not contain things like poop bags, treats and an extra leash.
I would no longer have to Spell the words B-A-L-L, F-R-I-S-B-E- E, W-A-L-K,
T-R-E-A-T, B-I-K-E, G-O, R-I-D-E, and B-A-C-O-N.
I would not have as many leaves INSIDE my house as outside.
I would not look strangely at people who think having ONE dog/cat ties them
down too much.
I'd look forward to spring and the rainy season instead of dreading "mud" season.
I would not have to answer the question "Why do you have so many animals?"
from people who will never have the joy in their lives of knowing they are
loved unconditionally by someone as close to an angel as they will ever get.
How EMPTY my life would be.
~ author unknown.
The Old Man and the Dog
~ by Catherine Moore
"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?"
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.
What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.
But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair.. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.
"He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow. "He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.
"You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.
We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship.. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.."
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...
Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all..
Life is too short for drama and petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive.
| Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
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| All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
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Return to Index
If You've Ever ...
If you've ever known the welcome of a barking ball of hair,
a sloppy kiss, a friendly paw, a quiet adoring stare-
If you've ever had a special friend to share a tear or two,
or maybe just a wagging tail to lift you when you're blue-
If you've ever lost your troubles in a joyful romp outside,
or shared your fears with listening ears that never left your side-
If you've ever felt the wrenching pain that only death can send,
then you have lost not just a dog- You've truly lost a friend.
A loving God would not destroy the love that he creates.
So rest assured that you will find your dog at Heaven's gate.
That joyful bark, that sloppy kiss, will greet you once again,
and share your love forevermore
Your dog - your precious friend.
May peace be in your dreams.
~Author Unknown~
Return to Index
I rescued a human today.
Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels. I felt her need instantly, and knew I had to help her. I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn't be afraid.
As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage. I didn't want her to know that I hadn't been walked today. Sometimes the shelter keepers get too busy and I didn't want her to think poorly of them.
As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn't feel sad about my past. I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone's life. She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me.
I shoved my shoulder and side of my head up against the bars to comfort her.
Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship. A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well. Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms.
I would promise to keep her safe.
I would promise to always be by her side.
I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes.
I was so fortunate that she came down my corridor. So many more are out there who haven't walked the corridors.
So many more to be saved. At least I could save one.
I rescued a human today.
Return to Index
On Christmas Morning, I wish...
For every dog, searching trash cans for breakfast,
a filled bowl with his name printed in bright letters.
For every dog who slept fitfully last night, chained in a frozen yard,
a soft, warm, bed with a person snoring gently nearby.
For every shelter dog, spending Christmas morning in a soiled run,
a forever home, filled with sounds and smells of family.
For every Christmas puppy given today,
a tolerant, caring owner, who won't abandon you as you grow into a real dog.
For every ailing pet,
enough money for your owner to pay the bills to make you well.
For every lost dog,
a clear, safe road, and well marked path, to lead you home.
For every old and tired friend,
a warm fire, and a soft bed, to ease your aches and pains.
For every Heart Dog at the Bridge,
a moment when you know that you are remembered today, missed again, and
loved forever.
~ Author unknown
~ Return to Index ~
My Foster Dog .
~ Author Unknown
My foster dog stinks to high heaven.
I don't know for sure what breed he is.
His eyes are blank and hard.
He won't let me pet him and growls when I reach for him.
He has ragged scars and crusty sores on his skin.
His nails are long and his teeth, which he showed me, are stained. I sigh.
I drove two hours for this.
I carefully maneuver him so that I can stuff him in the crate. Then I heft
the crate and put it in the car. I am going home with my new foster dog.
At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the yard. I
get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants "outside." As I lead him to
the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me his stained teeth again.
When we come in, he goes to the crate because that's the only safe place he
sees. I offer him food but he won't eat it if I look at him, so I turn my
back. When I come back, the food is gone.
I ask again about "outside." When we come back, I pat him before I let
him in the crate; he jerks away and runs into the crate to show me his
teeth.
The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer.
I lead him into the bath with cheese in my hands. His fear of me is not
quite overcome by his longing for the cheese.
And well he should fear me, for I will give him a bath.
After an attempt or two to bail out he is defeated and stands there. I
have bathed four legged bath squirters for more years than he has been
alive. His only defense was a show of his stained teeth, that did not hold
up to a face full of water.
As I wash him, it is almost as if I wash not only the stink and dirt away
but also some of the hardness. His eyes look full of sadness now. And he
looks completely pitiful as only a soap covered dog can.
I tell him that he will! feel better when he is cleaned. After the soap,
the towels are not too bad, so he lets me rub him dry.
I take him outside. He runs for joy . . . the joy of not being in the tub
and the joy of being clean.
I, the bath giver, am allowed to share the joy. He comes to me and lets me
pet him.
One week later I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for me to
pet him ( I think). I know what color he will be when his hair grows in.
I have found out he is terrified of other dogs, so I carefully introduce
him to my mildest four legged brat. It doesn't go well.
Two weeks later a new vet bill for an infection, that was missed on the
first visit. He plays with the other dogs.
Three weeks later his coat shines, he has gained weight.
He shows his clean teeth when his tongue lolls out
after he plays chase in the yard with the gang.
His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs and likes to show
off his tricks, if you have the cheese.
Someone called today and asked about him. They saw the picture I took the
first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his breed. They
asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions.
I checked up on them.
I prayed.
I said yes.
When they saw him the first time they said he was the most beautiful dog
they had ever seen.
Six months later, I got a call from his new family.
He is wonderful, smart, well behaved, and very loving.
How could someone not want him?
I told them I didn't know.
He is beautiful.
They all are.
~Return to Index~
God’s Covenant with all Creatures
By Revd. J.R Hyland
Both Ministers and scholars ignore God's covenantal relationship with animals.
From the book of Genesis to the book of Revelation, the bible accords
animals an exalted place in Creation. It is the only sacred text of any major
religion which proclaims that both animals and human beings are nefesh chaya:
living souls. And just as the first book of the bible juxtaposes the appearance of
humans and nonhumans at the dawn of creation, the last book unites them in
heavenly places. The book of Revelation repeatedly places both human and
nonhuman creatures around the throne of God, at a time when the Lord "shall
wipe away all tears." (Revelation 4:6-11; 5:6-14; 6:1-7)
And it is not only at the beginning and end of the bible that animals are given
such pre-eminence. The scriptures also state that at the time of Noah, God entered
into a sacred covenant with the animals as well as with human beings. This is an
unavoidable biblical fact which generations of preachers and scholars have
managed to overlook.
Endless sermons and countless Bible commentaries have explained the
divine significance of Man's covenantal relationship with God. This bond has
been extolled as a sure sign of the great love the Creator has for the human race--
of the sacred nature of the relationship between God and Man. But the fact that
God also covenanted with the animals is ignored.
This is not an easy thing to do. The same passages of scripture which tell of
the God/human covenant also tell of the God/animal covenant. In fact, the report
of this divine bond is repeated five times in the ninth chapter of Genesis. Such
repetition would seem to insure that a chauvinistic human race would be forced
to face the fact that God exalted the animals-- as well as human beings-- by
covenanting with them. But this is not the case. In spite of the repetition, and in
spite of the plain language used to describe what took place, God's sacred bond
with the animals is disregarded.
When Dr. Linzey was invited to speak in Madrid,
the queen of Spain was so impressed that she asked
to attend one of his talks and subsequently granted
him an audience to talk further with him. Apparently
she had not found anyone like him in the Spanish
church, although we certainly need them.
For those who are not familiar with the uncomplicated and easily understood
wording of the post-Flood covenant, the text follows.
1. "Then God said to Noah.. I now establish My covenant with you and your
descendants after you and with every living creature that was with you-- the birds,
the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you--
with every living creature on earth." (Genesis 9:8-10 )
2. "This is the sign of the covenant I am making between Me and you and
every living creature... a covenant for all generations to come." (Genesis 9:11-13)
3. "Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the
clouds I will see it and I will remember My covenant between Me and you and all
living creatures of every kind. "(Genesis 9:14,15)
4. "Whenever the rainbow appears I will see it and remember the everlasting
covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.
"(Genesis 9:16)
5. "So God said to Noah, this is the sign of the covenant I have established
between Me and all life on earth." (Genesis 9:17)
What theological implications have millennia of scholars deduced from these
passages of scripture that equate humans and animals in their sacred bond with
the Creator? None. A student can graduate from Seminary, go on to post -
graduate work and never read or hear any comment on this startling revelation.
How often do ministers remind their congregations of the bond the Lord has
initiated with animals as well as with human beings? Never. A church member
can sit through a lifetime of sermons and never hear a preacher warn those who
torment and kill animals, that Almighty God has entered into a covenantal
relationship with these creatures.
But in spite of this silence on the part of religious leaders, the biblical record
remains: God covenanted with both animals and people. And in spite of the
attempt to denigrate non human beings to the status of "things" the bible reminds
us that they, like humans, are "living souls".
The fact that they are of a different species than homosapiens is not a
justification for their slaughter and torment any more than racial, ethnic, or gender
differences justify the torment and slaughter of human beings.
Reprinted from the March/Apr 1997 issue of Humane Religion. Copyright 1997
by Viatoris Ministries.
Man's fate is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits
them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same
breath; man has no advantage over the animal.
A Gospel for Every Creature
By Revd Dr. Andrew Linzey
I have been an advocate for the cause of animals for over twenty-five years.
At first I did not believe that cruelty to animals, however important in itself, could
ever become a big issue for Christians. An important but secondary matter, I once
thought. Not now. In terms of pain, suffering and death, what we do to millions
of animals constitutes, I believe, one of the major moral issues of all time.
Moreover, I now see that it goes to the heart of the gospel that Christians profess.
This is a gospel of the invincible, unconquerable love of God - not just for human
beings but for all creatures.
The God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, and especially of Jesus, loves all
creatures. Christians have to find a new heart - a big enough heart to be open to
two great gospel truths. The first is that animals are God's creatures: not human
property, nor utilities, nor resources, nor commodities, but precious beings in
God's sight. The second is the Christ-like suffering of animals. "Think then, my
brethren", preached John Henry Newman at Oxford in 1842, "of your feelings at
cruelty practised on brute animals, and you will gain one sort of feeling which the
history of Christ's Cross and Passion ought to excite within you."
Christians whose eyes are fixed on the awfulness of crucifixion are in a
special position to understand the awfulness of innocent suffering. The Cross of
Christ is God's absolute identification with the weak, the powerless and the
vulnerable, but most of all with unprotected, undefended, innocent suffering. I
have spoken of how sensitivity to suffering should be a matter of obedience to the
gospel. But, in truth, it is among Christians today that one will find the greatest
betrayal of this gospel.
In Spain not one Roman Catholic authority can be found which opposes
bullfighting. In Canada, Anglican and Roman Catholic bishops support seal
hunting and fur trapping. In Norway clergy defend whaling. In Ireland, Roman
Catholic priests go hare coursing. And in England the General Synod of the
Church of England will not oppose hunting for sport on church-owned land. This
betrayal has a long and unflattering history. From the ninth to the nineteenth
century, thousands of animals were subject to criminal prosecution and sentenced
to capital punishment by ecclesiastical courts, resulting in barbarous cruelty. As
late as the middle of the nineteenth century, Pope Pius IX forbade the opening of
an animal protection office in Rome on the grounds that animals have no intrinsic
worth, and the idea that what we do to them need not be governed by fundamental
moral considerations has become standard theology in Catholic countries.
A God who remains passionless in the face of innocent suffering simply
cannot be the Christian God. No theology which desensitises us to suffering can
be truly Christian theology. It cannot be stressed enough that the picture of God
exclusively concerned with human salvation and indifferent to the suffering of the
non-human creation has become a source of moral despair.
If Christians today care so little for animals, it is because the God they seem
to believe in cares even less. For myself, I believe that if God is good and just and
holy, it must follow that there will be redemption for each and every creature that
suffers. Nothing less than that would make God a truly just God.
© Copyright, Andrew Linzey.
Love without Limit
By Revd. James Thompson
Almost two thousand years ago, Jesus of Nazareth
was crucified. He accused the pious people of his time of
limiting God's love and compassion to those who
believed and behaved as they did. They considered all
others to be outside the circle of God's love and
compassion -- to be accursed.
I am convinced that if Jesus were alive today, the
modern counterparts of the Scribes and Pharisees-the pontiffs, prelates and
priests -- would be the first to try and get rid of him. And for the same reason:
they also try to limit the mercy, love, and compassion of Almighty God.
As a priest of the world wide Anglican communion, I accuse each of its
branches of falsely portraying the love, mercy, and compassion of God by
making it far too small. And to the leaders of every church I say: "You take the
God of the Bible and by your theology shrink Him and His love, claiming it only
embraces humanity.
The God of my Bible made room for the animals within the ark, but you
exclude them from your ark of salvation. My God is concerned about the beasts
of the field and the birds of the air, whereas you have limited His love and all
embracing compassion to your own species.
Some day I will be called upon to give an account of my stewardship: what
will I be able to say to One who called Himself the Good Shepherd? And how
much longer are Christians going to shirk their responsibility of being a
mouthpiece for the defenceless of God's creation?
Excerpt from "Retreat from Responsibility"
For that which befalls the sons of men befalls beasts, even
one thing befalls them; as the one dies, so dies the other.
Yes, they all have one breath and spirit, so that a man has
no pre-eminence over a beast.
Ecclesiastes 3:19
I AM THE VOICE OF THE VOICELESS.
I am the. voice of the voiceless
Through me the dumb will speak,
Till the deaf world's ear be made to hear
The wrongs of the wordless weak
From Street, from cage and from kennel,
From stable and zoo, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaim the sin
Of the mighty against the frail.
Oh, shame on the mothers of mortals
Who have not stopped to teach
Of the sorrow that lies in dear, dumb eyes
The sorrow that has no speech.
The same force formed the sparrow
That fashioned man the king;
The God of the whole gave a spark of soul
To furred and to feathered thing.
And I am my brother's keeper,
And I will fight his fight,
And speak the word for beast and bird,
Till the world shall set things right.
~Ella Wheeler Wilcox
~Return to Index~
Saying Goodbye Every Day
~ by Amy Espie
Sunday. A friend and I take our dogs for a run in the park. The late-afternoon sunlight is pure gold, and a fresh breeze rustles the tall grass. A family approaches us on the trail: a man, woman, and two small boys. They are accompanied by a large tan dog with the distended nipples of motherhood and an adorable pup who looks just like his mom. The pup pesters his mom, taking five steps for every one of hers. She patiently tolerates his rambunctiousness.
It's a heartwarming scene that totally depresses me.
What has happened to me? I love dogs. I love puppies. And yet the sight of puppies makes me sad. Every time I see or hear of a litter of kittens or pups, I also see cages full of homeless ones and the bins full of dead ones at the shelter where I work.
Monday. It's 8 PM, time to go home. I walk past the cages in the Stray Cat Room. A calico cat and her two kittens sit quietly on the shelf in their cage. The mother grooms one of the kittens. A pink card attached to the cage tells me it's time to say goodbye to these three. I feel the familiar mixture of sadness, anger, and bitterness.
A huddled gray ball of fur in an adjoining cage catches my eye. In the farthest corner of her cage, a bedraggled cat hides her head under a sheet of newspaper. I peer between the bars. "Hi, Kitty," I say softly. "Are you totally miserable? I don't blame you." I chatter on, more for my own benefit than for hers. I put some treats into her bowl and leave.
Tuesday. A small, frightened black rabbit is rescued from a cellar by one of our Humane Officers. That evening she gives birth to five babies. Four days later, when her stray period is up, the babies are injected with sodium pentobarbital. A few seconds later, they are dead. The mother is put up for adoption.
Gray Cat clings to her corner, still facing the wall. I notice that she's eaten the treats I left, which encourages me. I talk to her again. "I know it's hard to believe, but actually you're pretty lucky. Decent food, a clean litterbox, people who care about you; and, with a little luck, one special person to appreciate and adore you forever." Gray Cat is not impressed.
Wednesday. I talk to the people in my dog-training class about spaying and neutering. "Of the ten million dogs and cats who are killed every year at animal shelters in the US, nearly three million are purebreds," I explain. "And the other seven million had a purebred in their very recent past. Stand at our front counter any day of the week and you will hear the same stories again and again: 'We're moving'; 'The landlord says no'; 'He barks and the neighbors called the cops on us'; 'She messes in the house.' An expensive dog with a behavior problem is just as disposable as an all-American mutt.
"Spend a day at the shelter and you'll also hear the repertoire of reasons people give for not having their animals spayed or neutered: 'We want the children to experience the miracle of birth'; 'Neutering is unnatural'; 'It's cruel'; "I wouldn't want anyone to do it to me'; 'My cat is from champion stock'; 'We've already got homes lined up for all the babies.' But try to explain these reasons to a loving, beautiful animal (or even an ill-tempered, homely one) whose time is up, who is receiving a death sentence when his only crime is that some human let him be born instead of facing the reality of the overpopulation disaster. I've never heard a rationalization that didn't fade into nothing in the face of even one death."
On my way out, I stop at Gray Cat's cage again. "Hi, Gray C. Still memorizing that bit of wall, I see." A miracle! She turns and looks at me. Her emerald eyes size me up. Maybe I'm being too optimistic, but she seems a little less frightened, her body a shade more relaxed. "Listen," I tell her, "you've probably met some pretty unevolved humans out there. We're not all like that. Give us another chance, okay?" She blinks dubiously. This is progress.
Thursday. The animal care technicians at the shelter are the bravest people in the world. I watch them scrub kennels and clean litterboxes. I see them take a moment to play with a kitten or hold a lonely pup. I hear them calm the frightened ones with a gentle word. And every now and then I force myself to witness what they must face every day. That same dog who they cared for, petted, and talked to must finally be given the only thing we have left to offer: a gentle, respectful death. What have we come to when the best we can do is to kill them kindly?
Jim puts a leash on the Labrador retriever. She cowers in the back of the kennel, tail between her legs. He tugs on the leash. She whimpers and crouches down lower. He kneels beside her. "It's okay, pup. Don't be scared." She stops whimpering but won't move. He scoops her up in his arms and carries her to the Euthanasia Room. She's been at the shelter for two weeks. She's so frightened that all she does is lie in the corner. No one wants her. Now she will die. Carol holds her while Jim shaves a small patch of fur from her leg. She is quiet and trembling. Jim continues to talk to her. He gives her the injection. She slumps onto the table. Carol carries her body to the Chill Room and adds it to the pile.
In the Cat Room, Gray Cat is sitting in her usual corner, but she's not facing the wall today. The room is noisy. Adorable kittens fill row upon row of cages. Friendly adult cats come forward, asking for attention. I open her cage to give her a treat. "It isn't fair," I tell her. "You have every right to distrust people, but if you don't act adoptable, how can you compete with all these other cats?" I reach my hand closer to her. I touch her. She lets me! I thank her.
Friday. At home, a veterinary clinic calls me to find out if I have room for another unwanted. The owners brought a young mini-lop in to be euthanized. Why? They're moving out of state. They don't want to take the rabbit. They haven't found any friend who will take him, and they don't want "a bunch of strangers" coming to their house to see the rabbit.
When I get to work, Gray C. is not in her cage. I look everywhere. I try not to be too hopeful. I tell myself, Don't pursue it. I ignore my own good advice. I go to the Chill Room. She is there, in one of the bins, her body curled up against that of a terrier. I touch her, for the second and last time. Her body is getting cold. She is gone. I mourn her. But who will mourn the calico kitten underneath her, and the angora rabbit in the next bin? Who will mourn all ten million of them, one by one?
Please remember all of the unwanted furkids in shelters... ADOPT, DON'T SHOP !
A Poem for Fosters.
I am the bridge between what was and what can be.
I am the pathway to a new life.
I am made of mush, because my heart melted when I saw you,
Matted and sore, limping, depressed,
Lonely, unwanted, afraid to love.
For one little time you are mine.
I will feed you with my own hand.
I will love you with my whole heart.
I will make you whole.
I am made of steel.
Because when the time comes,
When you are well, and sleek,
When your eyes shine, and your tail wags with joy,
Them comes the hard part.
I will let you go - not without a tear,
But without a regret.
For you are safe forever - a new dog needs me now.
~ Diane Morgan
ONE BY ONE ...
One by One, they pass by my cage,
Too old, too worn, too broken, no way.
Way past his time, he can't run and play.
Then they shake their heads slowly and go on their way.
A little old dog, arthritic and sore,
It seems I am not wanted anymore.
I once had a home, I once had a bed,
A place that was warm, and where I was fed.
Now my muzzle is gray, and my eyes slowly fail.
Who wants a dog so old and so frail?
My family decided I didn't belong,
I got in their way, my attitude was wrong.
Whatever excuse they made in their head,
Can't justify how they left me for dead.
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day,
The younger dogs get adopted away.
When I had almost come to the end of my rope,
You saw my face, and I finally had hope.
You saw thru the gray, and the legs bent with age,
And felt I still had life beyond this cage.
You took me home, gave me food and a bed,
And shared your own pillow with my poor tired head.
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low,
You love me so dearly, you want me to know.
I may have lived most of my life with another,
But you outshine them with a love so much stronger.
And I promise to return all the love I can give,
To you, my dear person, as long as I live.
I may be with you for a week, or for years,
We will share many smiles, you will no doubt shed tears.
And when the time comes that God deems I must leave,
I know you will cry and your heart, it will grieve.
And when I arrive at the Bridge, all brand new,
My thoughts and my heart will still be with you.
And I will brag to all who will hear,
Of the person who made my last days so dear.
~ Author Unknown
I wish someone would tell me what it is that I’ve done wrong.
Why do I have to stay chained up and left alone so long?
They seemed so glad to have me when I came here as a pup.
There were so many things we’d do while I was growing up.
But now the Master “hasn’t time” - the Mistress says I shed.
She doesn’t want me in the house’ - not even to be fed.
The Children never walk me. They always say, “Not now.”
I wish that I could please them. Won’t someone tell me how?
All I had, you see, was love. I wish they would explain
Why they said they wanted mine ... then left it on a chain.
unchainarizona@gmail.com
602.405.6750
Fighting for a Chain Free Arizona
DOGS DESERVE BETTER is a nonprofit organization dedicated to freeing the chained dog, and bringing
our 'best friend' into the home and family.
The Reason
I would’ve died that day if not for you.
I would’ve given up on life if not for your kind eyes.
I would’ve used my teeth in fear if not for your gentle hands.
I would have left this life believing that all humans don’t care
Believing there is no such thing as fur that isn’t matted, skin that isn’t flea bitten, good food and enough of it, beds to sleep on, someone to love me, to show me I deserve love just because I exist.
Your kind eyes, your loving smile, your gentle hands, Your big heart saved me…
You saved me from the terror of the pound,
Soothing away the memories of my old life.
You have taught me what it means to be loved.
I have seen you do the same for other dogs like me.
I have heard you ask yourself in times of despair
Why you do it when there is no more money, no more room, no more homes
You open your heart a little bigger, stretch the money a little tighter
Make just a little more room…to save one more like me.
I tell you with the gratitude and love that shines in my eyes
In the best way I know how
Reminding you why you go on trying.
I am the reason. The dogs before me are the reason
As are the ones who come after.
Our lives would’ve been wasted, our love never given
We would die if not for you . . ..
~ Author Unknown.
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