The Stray Dog

The purity of a person's heart can be quickly measured by how they regard animals.
--Unknown

It's a wet, soggy night as the weather turns from bad to worse.
Glancing through my window I see a shape off in the distance.
My neighbors at the house up the street scream at this figure.
This mysterious creature is a dog, it turns out, a stray to be exact.
His poor body must be racked with pain.
Despair is only friend.
He appears to be soaked and shaking from the cold downpour.
He looks tired and hungry.
The poor things has been to every house and been run off from everyone.
Probably been chased with sticks and hit with stones.
So skinny and malnourished, he limps his way to our house.
My brother and I try to get him to come to us, but no such luck.
Standing on the front porch, we try to give him some food.
The stray dog won't come no where near us.
We pitch the food to him, and he gobbles it up.
Into the night, he returns and each night he comes back.
Always tossing him food, he edges closer to us each time.
The day comes when he takes the food from our hands.
We notice the wound on his back leg.
Doctoring his wound with some medicine, he seems to feel some relief.
Eventually, we convince our parents to take up with him.
He is now heavier and stronger.
As we once protected him, now he protects us.
No intruder enters his new found territory unless we tell him it's okay.
He now has a family to be loyal to.
A place to feel safe and a place to keep safe.
A home.

May I, Heavenly Father, extend that same mercy to the lost, confused, and hurt ones of this world that others have turned away. The stray dog in me longs for the home of the One I love. Come soon, sweet Jesus. Amen.