Yesterday, Sunday, I went for a walk with my wife and three young daughters. We went to a park and played on swings and slides and fun stuff like that.
On the walk home, around 8 PM, we happened across a cute little white dog who was limping down an alley we took a shortcut through. Upon closer inspection, we saw that one of his hind legs was broken - badly enough to dangle. We took the dog home (to my girls' delight and my wife's dismay) and noted that he had tags that identified him as being from a small town well outside of Winnipeg, so I hopped in the van and took him to a 24 hour animal hospital.
That drive was quite an experience. At first I put him on the floor in front of the passenger seat, but we hadn't been driving 2 minutes before it was clear he wanted a better view. I helped him onto the passenger seat, and to keep him from trying to jump up to look out the side window, I scratched him beside his ears for the whole trip to the vet.
That drive took me back 15 years, because this little dog reminded me so much of my beloved Tanny, a dog we obtained from a rejected litter (the result of an unauthorized purebred Shelty & Poodle rendezvous). He was so quiet & gentle, and this newfound white pooch was a real flashback for me.
We finally arrived at the clinic, and I carried him in. When I handed him to the vet, he trembled - I think he liked me too. I sensed an impending abrupt ending to my encounter with the dog, so in an effort to put a bit of closure on it I scratched his head one last time and said, "Bye little guy, and thanks for the adventure."
I've always been a dog person. Cats are so arrogant and cold, whereas dogs, regardless of their intelligence level, actually know you and care.
But since I married a girl with rather extreme pet allergies, my pet owning capacity has been limited to fish. Fish are fine, but all they do is look nice. I could get a Chia pet if that's what I really wanted in a pet. But a dog... well, I guess I'm just trying to say that my appetite has been whetted and cannot be fulfilled. Sigh. That's life. As Fr. Bill Hunt used to say, "Offer up your little daily inconveniences; unite them with the Eucharistic sacrifice being offered at that moment somewhere, and pray for the needs of the world."
So chalk up the sighs of a dogless dog lover for the souls in purgatory, Lord.