Pound Puppy - Donna Dawson

Recently, my husband and I purchased a pound puppy. She was a gangly rack of skin and bone with a sad, lost look in her eye. Black fur held little lustre and the tip of her tail carried the dull yellow of urine stain. We knew Rosey and her siblings had been rescued from less than favourable circumstances and we longed to take them all home. But one dog is all this household can handle so we chose this pup--the least--the weakest.

I cradled her in my lap while my father pointed the van homeward. She shivered in fear and cold and the stench of her poor housing assaulted my senses in the close confines of the vehicle. How could anyone treat such a gentle creature in such a way. I was close to tears by the time we pulled into the drive. Too little food and even less love had left this pup in a state where I could slip my fingertips between ribs.

We settled her into her kennel, cleaned her, fed her and loved her. And now she sits at my feet in total devotion while I peck away at my keyboard. She is a picture of what it must be like for God to reach out to each of us and I hope I honour him with as much deep love as she now shows me.

Just think about it. Here we strive in a cesspool of our own selfishness, sin and corruption starving us from the bounty that was meant for us. We are caged in our own spiritual filth, barely existing, our eyes dull and listless. And then Christ appears and calls us by name. He opens the cage door, embraces us in spite of our uncleanliness and carries us far from our prison. Bathing our wounded hearts, feeding our starved souls, he loves us like no one can.

And how do we show our gratitude? Do we leap about our Master's feet? Do we make fools of ourselves as we dance and frolic to the tune of his love-filled laughter? Do we race about him in pure abandon, his presence the focal point of all we do? And when the play is over and silence comes, are we content to lay nearby and wait for the moment when he will call us again?

Donna Dawson © January 2007