Friday, September 21

Bite the Hand

The chill of early autumn is settling in for the night, and a yappy, frightened, wee mite of a dog is huddled outside underneath our neighbor's car. I've tried to draw him out. My own dogs have attempted to woo him (only to be snapped at). Even my husband has been down on all fours, treat in hand, murmuring reassurances, only to have the little fuzz ball shriek his doggy disapproval.

And he reminds me of me. Of us.

It's cold out there and I can offer him shelter for the night; a warm, safe, out-of-the-traffic place to sleep until morning. In the morning, I could track down his master or get him to someone more qualified to do so.

But he doesn't want anything to do with a rescue. He's decided that the little red car is his safest option and he's not leaving her. Meanwhile, it's 11:30 at night, and he's out in the autumn cool intermittently yelping his plea for aid when help is already at hand.

I think I can relate. We get separated from our Master and start our it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time wandering, only to find that we can't find our way back home. Our Master, being the responsible caregiver that He is, sends out a rescue party. But we want nothing to do with them.

They don't look anyone we want to accept counsel or guidance from. We snub their offerings of direction and shelter, choosing rather to settle into our ill-found shelter. A fateful relationship, a nebulous job, a killing addiction.

We tell ourselves that at least the little red car is a sure thing. It's afforded some protection from the rush of traffic. It's near a street light. Relative to the uncertainty of responding to the Master's rescue crew, it seems the better choice.

But it's going to be a long, chilly night for that teeny pooch. He could save himself nine hours of hardship if he'd take a chance on taking up my offer of aid.

He doesn't want a rescue.
I'm going to go try again anyway.
And I hope that when I'm snipping at the helping hands my Master sends my way that they'll be persistent and patient, promises of comfort at the ready. I hope I'll follow them to safety.

1 comment:

Gail J said...

Okay, now my blogging is not much. You write so well and thought provoking stuff. I didn't know you had a blog. I have really enjoyed reading them. YOU should keep writing. Thanks.