Melissa sat on the floor, unable to sit straight and
tall like her mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child.
Today, it would be impossible. And tomorrow ... it probably wouldn't be
possible then either. Her mind was too busy thinking about the dog that lay
across her lap.
When he came to be with her, he had no name. She
remembered that day very well. The first sight of him was enough to break her
heart into little pieces.
The woman, who had taken this dog from the rough
streets where he had lived, had tried to save him because she was unable to
watch this young dog find his own food in a dumpster outside the crack house
where he lived. Nobody cared that he was gone.
His fur was very thick; so thick that she had to
wiggle her fingers down to feel his bony body. And as she pulled her fingers
away again, they were coated in old dirt. Black and white, he was supposed to
be. But on that day he was beige and dust.
He sat in the back of her car panting continuously,
ears laid outward for he had lost his courage and couldn't keep them proud and
tall. He sat motionless, waiting and limp.
But the thing that was the most disturbing was the
look in his eyes. They were quiet eyes, sunken into his head - and they watched
her. They were alive with thought. He was waiting for her to do something
"to" him.
Little did he know at the time that, instead, she
would "give" something to him. She gave him one of the little broken
pieces of her heart.
She reached out to stroke his head and he
instinctively squinched his eyes shut and dropped his head, waiting for the
heavy hand. With that little bit of movement she gave him another one of the
broken pieces of her heart.
She took him home and gave him a bath. She toweled him
dry and brushed some order back into his coat. For that, he was grateful and
even though his own heart was loaded with worms, he accepted yet another piece
of her heart, for it would help to heal his own.
"Would you like some water, big boy?" She
whispered to him as she set down a large bowl of cold well water. He drank it
up happily. He had been dehydrated for a long time and she knew it would take
him most of the week to re-hydrate.
He wanted more water - but it was gone. Ah ... that's
how it is, he thought to himself. But he was grateful for what he had been able
to get. "Would you like some more?" and she gave him another bowl
along with another little piece of her heart.
"I know that you are hungry. You don't have to
find your own food anymore. Here's a big bowl of good food for you. I've added
some warm water and a little piece of my heart."
Over the four months that he stayed with her, his
health improved. The heart full of worms was replaced piece by piece with
little bits of her loving heart. And each little piece worked a very special
kind of magic.
When the warmth of love and gentle caresses are added,
the little broken pieces knit together again and heal the container it resides
in. That container becomes whole again.
She watched each little broken piece fill a gap in the
gentle dog until his quiet eyes radiated the light from the little pieces. You
see, kind words gently spoken turn the little pieces into illumination for the
spirit that resides within.
He rested beside her, happy to be with her always.
Never had he known such kindness, such gentle caresses; such love. His health
had returned, his spirit was playful as a young dog's should be and he had
learned about love.
Now his heart was full. The healing was complete. It
was time to go. There was another person who had another heart that was meant
to be shared with him.
So she sat shapeless on the floor because all the
broken pieces of her heart were with the dog. It is difficult to sit tall when
your heart is not with you. She wrapped her arms around the dog that sat with
tall, proud ears for her. Lean on me, he said.
And she gave him one last thing that would keep him
strong; that would keep the pieces of her heart together long after he had gone
on to live his new life. She gave him her tears and bound them to the pieces
with a simple statement made from the ribbons of her heart.
"I love you, Joe."
And Joe lived happily ever after.
Melissa sat on the floor, straight and tall like her
mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child. Today, it would be
possible. And tomorrow ... it probably would be possible too. Because her mind was
busy thinking about this, the next dog that lay across her lap.
Where did she get the heart to help yet another dog,
you ask?
Ahhh ... it came with the dog. They always bring a
little bit of heart with them. And when the rescuer breathes in that little bit
of heart, it quickly grows and fills the void left by the last dog.
(Grace Saalsaa, written for those who foster)
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