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 hand. His fear of me is not
quite overcome by his wish 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 dog 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 his 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 there is a new vet bill for an infection
that was missed on the first visit. He plays with the other dogs.
Three weeks later he asks to be petted. He chewed up part of the
rug.

Eight weeks later his coat shines, and 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.

Written by
Martha O’Connor

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.
_________________________
“Saving just one dog won’t change the world… but, surely, the world will change for that one dog” ~ unknown.

–Author Unknown

— author unknown —

Do not break my spirit with a stick,
for although I should lick your hand between blows, your patience and
understanding will more quickly teach
me the things you would have be do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is
world’s sweetest music, as you must know
by the fierce wagging of my tail when your
footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me
inside, for I am now a domesticated animal,
no longer used to bitter elements.
And I ask no greater glory than the
privilege of sitting at your feet beside
the hearth. Though had you no home,
I would rather follow you through ice and
snow than rest upon the softest pillow in
the warmest home in the land, for you are
my god and I am your devoted worshipper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water,
for although I should not reproach you
were it dry, I cannot tell you when I
suffer thirst. Feed me clean food so
that I may stay well to romp and play
and do your bidding, to walk by your
side, and stand ready willing and able
to protect you with my life should your
life be in danger.

And beloved master, should the Great Master
see fit to deprive me of my health or sight,
do not turn me away from you. Rather,
hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands
grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest…
and I will leave you knowing with the last
breath I draw, my fate was every safest
in your hands.

— Beth Norman Harris —