“Good homes are built on wisdom, compassion and
understanding." ~ Proverbs 24:3
I was born in an old wheelbarrow
in an unused toolshed with four siblings.
Two were stillborn; another was born crippled. Mother disposed of him I guess.
She gave us our dog names – Blaze and Shelby. When we were old enough, Mother taught us to
hunt and forage for food. She also
taught us to avoid humans. They could be
dangerous. The day I saw a man kill Mia,
a fox who lived under the shed with her kits, I knew she’d been right.
Mother disappeared one day and we were alone; abandoned and afraid.
We stayed near the old shed for a while. I liked the garbage pile, its warm shelter,
and the field mice sharing our space.
When Blaze decided to move on, I followed him away from our
first home. He was my whole world.
We lived in the forest or in empty doorways eating from garbage
sacks or hunting wild game. I recall
packs of wild dogs who inflicted the many scars I bear today. I also remember the humans – some with gentle
hearts; others crazed with brutality.
Some nice people from the park
took us home one day. But Sam and Mindy weren’t
used to living with dogs. And when we
messed on the floor, ate their son’s toys and lunged at skateboarders, Sam
decided he’d had enough. He drove us into
town, tossed us from his pickup, and sped away.
Blaze scraped his nose from the fall; I landed hard on my
shoulder. We rested for a while by the
side of a busy road. We noted a bag smelling
of chicken under some bushes across the highway.
I was about to dash across when a car screeched to a
stop near us and a man jumped out. He commented
on how cute Blaze was and decided to keep him. I guess I wasn’t cute enough or he didn’t need
two dogs. He drove off and I never saw my
brother again.
But I got ‘dibs’ on the goodie bag. It wasn’t however, full of chicken.
Wrapped in a tattered blanket lay a tiny newborn baby. I carried the abandoned child under some
barbed wire towards an old woman tending her flower garden. She immediately took the baby to a hospital
where she responded well to treatment. No one ever claimed the girl.
I’m an old dog now and that woman cares for me . . . and the
little girl now. Three misfits living comfortably
together. A fire casts long shadows over
the rug where I relax. Flames crackle
and hiss. I feel the warmth of a fire on
my nose, my tail and my paws, and I remember when I wasn’t warm, well-fed or loved.
Home is where love heals.
“Jesus, thank You for leading me home. It took a long time through many travails, but
I trusted You. I pray, Lord, that as You
created this family, You’ll continue to lead us daily. Woof, woof!” ~
Shelby
