Dumpster Dog

"I know you are busy, Bon, but would you mind coming over and helping me out with something?"  I couldn't let my sister know that I was in the middle of making a cake for her surprise birthday party and had only a short while left to complete it.   Before I could make a decision about how to respond,  I heard my voice tell her, "yeah sure, I'll be over in a few minutes."  (Hmm, must be habit.)   I leaned my head harder against the phone to catch her instructions as I scraped at the gooey marshmallow cream and confectioner sugar that engulfed my hands.  "You might want to wear leather gloves and bring a crate with you," she explained. "He seems pretty wild."  Those last two sentences made me think I had given the wrong answer but I assured her I would be over shortly.  Bending down close to a towel on the counter I allowed the phone to fall from it's cradled spot between my neck and shoulder and pushed on the water with my forearm.  It would take a lot of dish soap to remove the sweet sludge from my hands.  I quickly covered large mixing bowls with towels, to deter the gnats that might appear out of thin air (as they seem to do) and headed for my shed to get a dog crate.

At this point I had little information, but I had gathered enough to conclude that we were heading over to the county dump to try our hand at catching a wild dog who did not wish to be caught but who was apparently in need of medical attention.  On the ride over, my sister filled me in a bit more.  That morning she had seen a sad sight.  A little dog without a stitch of hair was limping around at the dump.  She had spoken with the attendant on duty and he informed her that the dog had just appeared one day weeks before.  He was very fearful and thwarted numerous attempts to catch him.  The attendant had been feeding him but it was obvious he would not last much longer without some medical help.   The attendant told her that a lady had just been there that morning trying to catch him again and that it was impossible.

Neither of us really had the money to pay a lot of vet bills but we could not bear to see the little guy suffer, so as we drove I prayed for God's intervention.  I believed that if it was best for us to catch him, God would make it possible and if not...well, at least we tried. 

What a sight!  Even though my sister had described him, I was still shocked when my eyes beheld him.  He looked like a hairless dachshund (a creature which is not supposed to exist).  His skin was black and scaly. Large sad eyes peered out from a furrowed, fearful brow.  He held one back leg up close to his body and hobbled about on the other three.  As we pulled in, he eyed us anxiously and as we stepped from the vehicle he hurriedly looked for a place to hide.   I sent up another prayer and walked around to get the crate.  Our success in catching him really depended upon which way he ran.  He could disappear under any number of large dumpsters.  He obviously had extensive practice in the art of avoidance so I knew it would be a miracle for him to run behind the building, which was the only place where he could be cornered.   Cautiously, we closed in on him trying to close off his most obvious exits.  Sure enough, around the building he went.  He edged up against the tin siding as if trying to push himself into it, sliding behind the tall weeds which offered his only shelter.  The attendant came to help us.  As we circled the injured canine he became desperate.  He shivered in fear and snarled a defensive warning, his dark eyes wide with terror.  He darted around for any opening, some way of escape.  Robbie put the crate down behind him and the attendant reached out to coax him to scoot backward.  The little dog snapped at him, teeth clashing together loudly.  Luckily, the man retreated with all his fingers.  I noticed a folding lawn chair leaning against the wall.  I put the back of it down in front of him and began to force him backward.  The low grumble in his throat became a rumbling, full-throated growl as he rolled back his lips to expose threatening fangs.  It was obvious to me that he meant business and would have taken a serious bite out of anyone who offered him the opportunity.  Finally he whirled around and, having no where else to go, ran into the crate.  Robbie slammed the door shut.  We got him!   We were both surprised and happy.  But now, what would  we do with him?   The stench from his infected flesh filled the car and we quickly rolled the windows down.  My sister took him to the vet and I returned to my cake decorating, after cleaning up of course. 

As I worked, my mind stayed on the little creature.  I could see the fear in his eyes and could only imagine what he had been through at the hands of cruel, cold-hearted people.  He had no reason to trust us.  Why should he?   He was in distress and pain, having no one to look out for him but himself.  There was something in his demeanor that told me he really wanted to be caught, to be held and loved, to be cleaned up and cared for.  But, fear and distrust overpowered these desires and instead of yielding to us, he snarled, snapped, and threatened.  He wasn't certain that our intentions were to harm him, but he had no plans to give us the chance. 

I realized this creature is no different from many people, including myself.  There have been times in my life when people have reached out to help me and I've snapped at them.  Fear and distrust can cause us to be snarling and evasive.  Hmm... This realization might make it easier to accept another person's negative response when I try to help.   I need to remember that everyone has a past.  I don't know what experiences, what pain or fear might be motivating their reaction.  Patience, understanding, gentleness and love, of the caliber that God alone can impart, must be manifest within us if we would be of real service to others.   I think the world is in great need of people who will take the risk to reach out knowing they might get bitten.  People who will love others where they are expecting nothing in return.  People willing to follow the example of their Savior.  He stooped lower than it is possible for us to do.  He left his throne to be abused, beaten, and murdered by those he came to save.  He knew the outcome in advance and yet He chose to make the sacrifice that we might have the choice to live.  We held Him on the cross, you and I.  Our sins caused Him to suffer there.   How can we refuse to put ourselves out for others when Christ has laid down His life for us all?

I pray that we will walk closely enough to Christ to learn to love as He loves.   May we be willing to suffer abuse at the hands of others and still reach out to help them.   May we learn to love and take risks for others inspite of our own hangups and pain.   May we remember we are all God's creatures, however injured, fearful and defensive we may be.

Bonnie Morsette ~ 9/16/2009

Addendum:
After awhile the phone rang, it was Robbie, and she had wonderful news.  A man at the vet's office had fallen in love with the helpless creature.   He adopted him on the spot and assumed the extensive medical bills that would arise from his care.  It was determined that he had mange and some other injuries, but it appeared he would fully recover. He had even begun to warm up to his helpers and accepted their gentle touch without growling.   I just love happy endings!