The Dog

I have a dog I didn’t want.

Did I mention that I didn’t want the dog? With its physical problems, it wouldn’t be much of a guard dog, much less that it only stands 10 inches off the ground. It bumps into everything in the yard: an old tire sandbox, the dog house, the trees. Did I mention the sneezing and the howling, perhaps because it has various pains?

My daughter first called me and told me about the dog on her way to work. “Dad, there was a dog by my car when I went to work today. We need to do something with it,” she said in a voicemail. “We,” I thought. You're at work; the only one home now is me. I wasn’t looking for a dog, and now I am getting pressure from my daughter to accept the dog or look like a mean, vicious, uncaring dad.

Did I mention I didn’t want the dog? But I put it on a long leash in the yard where our previous dog ran. I didn’t want this dog to become a spot on the highway running in front of our house because it lacked a white cane with a red tip. I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my daughter, much less live with the guilt of sending a defenseless dog to its death.

So “we” fed it, “we” watered it, and my daughter took it for walks where she reported it fell off the curb several times and ran into light posts when it could walk in a straight line. It has been fed, watered, and talked to for two weeks, even though it can’t hear. But a strange thing is happening. It seems to be getting healthier. It now jumps up and down like it is on a trampoline when it senses its feeding time. It smells us coming out the door or is beginning to see shadows. It looks at us with those milky eyes, hoping we will come near enough to pet it. It is getting better now. What am I supposed to do? Did I mention I didn’t want a dog?

As I reflected upon its appearance, I began to wonder about it. This little dog would be considered a throwaway; after all, it seems someone already threw it away on the side of the road, at least that is what the shelters suggest happened. I have called every dog rescue facility in the area, 5 in all, and they won’t take the dog. It's either too old, too small, or too sick. There isn’t enough room at their shelter, they don’t take small dogs, and are not from town, so it's not our responsibility, it's in the country, and there is no place for it to go. After they finish moving for two weeks, I could take it to the county dog pound. But I know they will put it down and “kill it” in five days. It seems a little harsh, even though I don’t want a dog. Did I say it is still breathing and eating the soft dog food we purchased because it has no teeth? If I got rid of it now, I would be stuck with a week of dog food, so I would have to wait, or so I tell myself

But I am realizing that the real issue has to do more with the value of life, even this little dog. I am reluctant to take it to the dog pound because it would be as if I were sending it to a euthanasia chamber, and its only crimes are that it is old, blind, deaf, toothless, and landed in my yard. It seems a little harsh, even though I don’t want the dog.

And yet, there is a bigger issue. What is the value of life, or any life? Because it won’t keep the squirrels out of the yard or guard the house against burglars or terrorists, does it make it any less important? I understand that I have a responsibility to take care of the last, the least, and the lost. I am not the judge of which life is of value and which life is not. It came into my sphere of care for some reason; I doubt it was to take it to the gas chamber, but to give it a place to live out its last days in a place where it would be respected and cared for, even though I didn’t want a dog. The value of life is more important than my convenience or comfort. After all, who is to say that someday I won’t be like the little dog, toothless, blind, and deaf, hoping for a place to exist? Would I want someone to determine then which life is of more value than another? What would be the criteria? (What did you say? I couldn’t hear you or read your lips) Besides, I don’t want to go down that slippery slope; it's been traveled too often already with worldwide disastrous results.

I have also seen my daughter’s heart open and blossom around this little dog, just as my youngest son cared for our previous dog. I saw him, on the dog's last days, scoop the feeble dog up in his arms so carefully and gently and give it a softer place to lay. My daughter similarly cares for this dog. It has also brought about meaningful discussions about the dog's situation and what to do with it. We are in no hurry for an “outcome.”
Interestingly, the dog has allowed my daughter and me to bond, understand each other, and see what is inside our hearts. Her caring, openness, and compassion moved me. I can see the grace in action as she reaches down to touch and speak to the dog. She even wants to give it a name, to make it more than just a stray, not just a lost dog dumped on the side of the road.

It seems that “we” are being taught by this little dog. What the value of life might be, any life, be it four-legged, winged, crawling, or human, those lost and least, those with little to offer the world, those blind, deaf, and toothless, or those who have expended what they had to give to others. I am being called to share what I have: some food, a place in the yard, and a heart filled by this little dog teaching me about sharing the grace of life given to me—a fascinating lesson with levels of depth that develop each day.

Did I mention I didn’t want the dog? I think it was sent here, thanks be to God

drdanahouck@gmail.com Phone 507.339.0045