It was sunny and cold. At the end of the ritual of blessing for someone killed in our community, a small dog came limping up to the gathering. He seemed fearless of the humans chatting with each other in small groups. In fact, he cozied up to a woman’s leg and took some pats.
The compassionate eye of someone who volunteers at the Humane Society looked carefully at him and then approached him slowly. The golden colored mutt looked up at her beseechingly, so she gathered him into her arms. Safely there in her arms, he put his head on her shoulder. It was a picture of all being right with the world: the two of them in gentle connection with each other. It didn’t take much to realize that there was something seriously wrong with the dog’s leg and with his testicles. And it didn’t take long to decide that he needed to be taken for treatment. Without any tags or identification, our best hope for him was that he would be healed and adopted.
Five of us were traveling in a small-ish SUV, and so we all piled in and the dog (Peanut because of his size and color) was softly place in another’s arms and some dog biscuits appeared that he gladly ate. Four of us were dropped at our destination, and the driver and Peanut went on to the Humane Society.
Emails went around every few days. They would amputate his leg — it had been shot. They would neuter him, taking care of the infected testicles. And then he’d be ready to be adopted. Darling, small, and good-natured, he was a great candidate for finding a forever home.
Care for a small injured creature won’t really fix much, I suppose. But our capacity to care and to respond is one of the strongest threads in the web of goodness that captures us all. It is all these small acts of compassion that bind the world together in wholeness.
I am so grateful and hope-filled to have been witness to one especially wonderful such moment.
PS The dog pictured is not THE dog but looks a lot like him.
Edited to note that Peanut has gone to his forever home. Blessed be.