“Show mercy to everything God created." ~ Psalm
145:9
Shiloh knew something was wrong. And when Master dropped her off at the strange
place with cold floors and small cages, she knew she was right.
An aging Golden, Shiloh lay down in her unfamiliar pen and
dreamed of days gone by. She recalled
the warm autumn days when she tromped for miles, pushing through thick
underbrush, splashing across a shallow creek.
Master always shared half of his sandwich when they’d hunted.
After the command to “Fetch,” she’d raced across the meadow,
her fur wafting in the breeze, to retrieve the dead bird for Master. Her body wiggled at his praise, “Good job,
Shiloh! Good girl.”
She couldn’t recall when her legs started aching or when things
began to look blurry. She couldn’t chase
the ball at the park any more. Her eyes
no longer bore the sparkle of a dog loved and pampered from puppyhood.
Everything changed when Barney arrived. The little beast ate from her bowl, rolled in
her bed and chewed her favorite toys.
Shiloh had tried to reclaim her rightful place, but she couldn’t keep
pace with the cuter, more playful, energetic pup. Master didn’t seem to notice Shiloh anymore.
It had been many days since Master left her in this place
and the sound of his rattling muffler had faded in the distance. Her hope of his return dimmed with each new
sunrise.
Today an old guy came looking for a new dog. Sam stood in front of Shiloh’s kennel for a
few minutes without saying a word. He
seemed to be looking for just the right companion. He reached down and scratched the old dog’s
ears before moving on to assess the other dogs.
Shiloh wagged her tail excitedly as Sam slowly ambled away.
The old man must’ve visited every dog in the kennel. Shiloh wished she hadn’t looked into the kind
older man’s eyes when he’d given her a smidgeon of hope. There were so many ‘Barney’s’ here – younger,
prettier, healthier pets. Her days were
numbered. Soon she’d go to the ‘Room’ -
the one that smelled like the sad souls who never returned.
Two days passed before a familiar voice echoed down the
hallway. Shiloh jumped up forcing her
nose through the metal gate. There old Sam
stood accompanied by the kennel attendant with a pleasant smile on his face. Thinking she was getting fresh food and water
the attendant attached a leash to her collar and handed it to Sam. “Let’s go home old friend,” Sam coaxed.
Turns out, the old guy was no stranger to the shelter. Every time he came, he adopted the oldest dog
in the place. When that dog dies – he
comes again. Because he wants them “to
feel loved during the last days of their lives.” Bless the beasts . . . and those who love
them.
“Dear
Father, Hear and bless Thy beasts and singing birds: And guard with tenderness,
small things that have no words.” Amen
