We have a dog named Lucy adopted from a foster parent who got her from a non-profit called Safe Haven. That organization rescues abandoned dogs in states like Tennessee and brings them up to Illinois to find them homes.
Lucy is somewhat named after Lucy Charles, a triathlete that my wife Sue and I both admire. Her foster name was Bliss. We found that too hard to say.
She seems more like a Lucy anyway. Upon adoption, we received a breakdown of her breed background and it turned out to be 50% and a mix of border collie, boxer and beagle. She’s all that and more, as she’s willful and playful and silly all at once.
We’ve had her a year. It’s taken time, but she’s adapted to a nudging friendship with our cat named Bennie. He came to us from a vet friend who took him into the pet hospital after someone found him burned with a broken leg inside their car engine. He apparently climbed up there as a kitten to find warmth and got badly hurt.
They called him Bernie (get the pun?) at the vet’s office but we changed it over to Bennie. He’s an orange and white charmer who escaped once and lived for ten days out in the neighborhood before Sue’s kids captured him down the block. He ate like a hog when fed that day and has never left the house since.
Lucy chases Bennie sometimes, but only in play, or when the cat sticks his nose into her food. Then Lucy charges to rid her bowl of cat cooties.
There are days when all this dog and cat caregiving get to me. I’d rather read the paper in peace some mornings than grab the leash, go out for a walk and wait for Lucy to pee or poop. Bennie, meanwhile, wakes us at 4:30 to be fed. I do the duty and go back to bed.
I was previously a dog dad to our family pet Chuck, the Schnoodle mix that my son saved from the streets of Chicago. That pupper is going on twelve years old now and lives with my daughter Emily.
But even these pups and kitties are not enough for me in this world. I ask permission to pet many a dog when I’m out and about. Sometimes the owners say, “They don’t usually like strangers. They don’t seem to mind you.”
That’s the biggest compliment one can get. To be something other than a threat in this world may be a small achievement in the scope of things. Yet if more people had the character to show kindness toward others we would all be better off for it.
The cats and dogs that need a home in this world are a testament to the difference between being kind and being a threat to others.
That is not to say that everyone should go out and adopt a dog or cat. But the number of abandoned animals left to fend for themselves, especially in certain states where the problem is rampant, is a clear indication that people are making raw and often selfish decisions about the value of life.
Then there are puppy mills where female dogs serve as breeding labs for commercially profitable pets. Some of those operations are run by people claiming to be almost holy in other aspects of their lives. It’s amazing what money ultimately does to the theology and ideology of so many people.
That harsh reality illustrates the dividing line between the selfish notions of what people expect from animals and what their grasp of humanity really is. I’ve heard many people say there is no gratitude like the loyalty of an animal who knows they were saved. I’ve seen that grace firsthand. Even on my most selfish days––and we all have a few––the only reminder I need to be kinder and more attentive that day is to look in the eyes of these cats and dogs. They teach us to appreciate all that we’ve got in this world.