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Animal Poems and Stories
Part V
"I’ve seen a look in dogs’ eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts." ~ John Steinbeck, American Novelist
Why Dogs Chase Cats
Once upon a time a kind man named Ku worked on a ferry boat, traveling back and forth across the river day and night. He worked hard, but he was very poor. All he owned in the world were his beloved dog and cat.
But Ku was generous, and one night when a stranger came begging at his door, Ku offered him his last mug of wine and a big bowl of rice. As the stranger was leaving, he bowed to Ku and handed him a tiny piece of amber. "Keep this in your wine jug," the stranger said, "and it will never run dry."
Ku had heard many tall tales, and so he smiled. Still, he tossed the amber into his jug, and to his amazement, it instantly filled to the brim. He poured himself a mug and was delighted at the wonderful taste, and when he lifted the jug, he saw it still was full.
"We're rich!" he cried to his dog and cat. "That stranger must have been a god. Now we can open a tavern and we'll never go hungry again."
And that's exactly what he did.
Alas, one day Ku lifted his jug to serve a passing traveler, but to his surprise it was empty. He shook the jug and heard nothing. "I must have accidentally poured out the amber," he cried out. "Oh, now we are lost, dear friends."
Now Dog and Cat loved their master, and each other, and when they saw their master's distress, they determined they would find the amber.
"We have excellent noses," Dog said to Cat. "We'll sniff until we pick up the scent."
So the two set off, sniffing every nook and cranny, every tree and bush and stone. They prowled the neighborhood and found nothing, and so they walked on. They searched day and night. They traveled through that whole season, and as the winds began to blow, the river turned to ice.
"We'll try the other side of the river," Dog said, and Cat agreed.
They searched all the villages on the far side of the river. They climbed mountains. They scoured valleys. They sniffed at every house and every passerby, but winter passed, and spring arrived, and still they had not found the amber.
"We'll have to go home," Dog said, "before the river thaws." When they came to the shore of the river, they saw that the ice had begun to break up.
But then Dog sniffed the air. "I smell it!" he cried, and he raced toward a huge trunk that sat near the dock of the ferry. "It's in that trunk. I'm certain," Dog said.
"But how shall we get inside?" Cat asked.
"We'll ask Rat to help."
"Rat?" Cat cried, alarmed at the thought. "She'll never agree. She despises cats and dogs."
"We'll promise never to chase her again," said Dog, and Cat reluctantly agreed to this.
When Rat heard the news, she happily agreed to chew a hole in the trunk. When she climbed inside, sure enough, she found the piece of amber. Peering out, she called, "It's here. But promise you'll never chase me."
"We promise," Dog and Cat cried back, and so Rat crept out of the trunk and passed the amber to the two who had once been her enemies.
"Let's go home to Ku!" Dog cried, but Cat mournfully shook her head and stared at the swiftly breaking ice. There was no way to get across, and the ferry still was moored to the dock on the other side. "I can't swim," she said.
"Never mind, just climb upon my back," Dog said. "You hold the amber in your mouth, and I'll swim." And this she did.
Now as they were swimming among the floating ice, Dog grew more and more excited. "Cat," he said, "do you still have the amber? You still have it, don't you? Please don't drop it. Is it safe?" On and on he asked, until at last Cat became so frustrated, she hissed, "Yes!"
Of course, once she opened her mouth, the amber slipped into the water and sank to the very bottom.
Now Dog was furious. He shook Cat from his back, who yowled and scrambled in the water. Somehow Cat managed to get back to shore, but Dog stayed behind, diving and searching until he caught the scent of the amber in a passing fish's belly. He snatched the fish between his teeth and swam to shore on the other side of the river. Then he raced home to his master.
When Ku saw Dog with the fish, he was overjoyed. "We'll have a fine supper," he said, and he cut open the fish and could not believe his eyes. There was his precious amber.
"You've saved me, Dog!" he cried. "You are the best friend in the world. Now we'll open our tavern again."
Now Dog was happy, but he missed Cat, and whenever he saw a cat, he ran after it, hoping to find his old friend and to pass on the news. He wanted to bring her home. But every cat ran away from Dog, and he's been chasing them ever since.
~ Adapted by Amy Friedman ~
The Water
It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would bankrupt several farmers before it was through. Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut everyone off. If we didn't see some rain soon...we would lose everything. It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only miracle I have seen with my own eyes.
I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great effort...trying to be as
still as possible.
Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to making sandwiches; thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed.
Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride toward the woods. This activity went on for an hour: walk carefully to the woods, run back to the house. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey being very careful not to be seen...as he was obviously doing important work and didn't need his Mommy checking up on him.
He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not to spill the water he held in them...maybe two or three tablespoons were held in his tiny hands. I sneaked close as he went into the woods.
Branches and thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much higher purpose. As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site. Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy
walked right up to them.
I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him...he didn't even move as Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground,
obviously suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hand.
When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree. I followed him back to the house; to a spigot that we had shut off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip drip slowly fill up his makeshift "cup," as the sun beat down on his little back. And it came clear to me.
The trouble he had gotten into for playing with the hose the week before. The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn't ask me to help him.
It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands. When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in front of him. His little eyes just filled with tears. "I'm not wasting," was all he said. As he began his walk, I joined him...with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend
to the fawn. I stayed away. It was his job.
I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever known working so hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops...and more drops...and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, Himself, was weeping with pride.
Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. That miracles don't really exist. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can't argue with that...I'm not going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day saved our farm...just like that actions of one little boy saved another.
I don't know if anyone will read this...but I had to send it out. To honor the memory of my beautiful Billy, who was taken from me much too soon.... But not before showing me the true face of God, in a little sunburned body.
~ Author Unknown ~
God's Wings
An article in National Geographic several years ago provided a penetrating picture of God's wings.
After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he gently struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast.
Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings would live.
"He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge." The Holy Scriptures, Psalm 91:4
~ Author Unknown ~
There's Always Room For One More
I see by his coat he must be a stray,
The untidy look gives him away.
He's lost his will and is so thin,
Hasn't eaten since God knows when.
I know as I coax him through the door,
There's always room for just one more.
The other night in the freezing rain,
That little female came again.
Matted and soaked crying in need,
Lost and alone with babies to feed.
Her pleading eyes I couldn't ignore,
There's always room for just one more.
There's a new face on the docks today,
Hungry but clean, to our dismay,
I stroked her head her body rippled
When she got up I saw she was crippled
She started to go, but fell on the floor.
There's always room for just one more.
There's the poor doggy standing in the rain,
I've tried to entice him time and again.
One ears lopsided, the other's been torn,
Blind in one eye, lost and forlorn.
He's coming now, so I'll open the door.
There's always room for just one more.
These stories are true, as I've said before,
There's always room for just one more.
~ Author Unknown ~
Twas the Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
With no thought of the dog filling their heads.
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Knew he was cold, but didn't care about that.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Figuring the dog was free of his chain and into the trash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Santa Claus - with eyes full of tears.
He unchained the dog, once so lively and quick,
Last year's Christmas present, now painfully thin and sick...
More rapid than eagles he called the dog's name.
And the dog ran to him, despite all his pain;
"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Let's find this dog a home where he'll be loved by all!"
I knew in an instant there would be no gifts this year,
For Santa Claus had made one thing quite clear,
The gift of a dog is not just for the season,
We had gotten the pup for all the wrong reasons.
In our haste to think of the kids a gift
There was one important thing that we missed.
A dog should be family, and cared for the same
You don't give a gift, then put it on a chain.
And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight,
"You weren't giving a gift! You were giving a life!"
~ Author Unknown ~
How Could You?
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was bad, you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."
As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.
I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.
Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.
After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.
She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"
Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
~ Copyright © 2001 Jim Willis ~
Little Pieces
Melissa sat on the floor, unable to sit straight and tall like her mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child. Today, it would be impossible. And tomorrow... it probably wouldn't be possible then either. Her mind was too busy thinking about the dog that lay across her lap.
When he came to be with her, he had no name. She remembered that day very well. The first sight of him was enough to break her heart into little pieces.
The woman, who had taken this dog from the rough streets where he had lived, had tried to save him because she was unable to watch this young dog find his own food in a dumpster outside the crack house where he lived. Nobody cared that he was gone.
His fur was very thick; so thick that she had to wiggle her fingers down to feel his bony body. And as she pulled her fingers away again, they were coated in old dirt. Black and white, he was supposed to be. But on that day he was beige and dust.
He sat in the back of her car panting continuously, ears laid outward for he had lost his courage and couldn't keep them proud and tall. He sat motionless, waiting and limp.
But the thing that was the most disturbing was the look in his eyes. They were quiet eyes, sunken into his head - and they watched her. They were alive with thought. He was waiting for her to do something "to" him.
Little did he know at the time that, instead, she would "give" something to him. She gave him one of the little broken pieces of her heart.
She reached out to stroke his head and he instinctively squinched his eyes shut and dropped his head, waiting for the heavy hand. With that little bit of movement she gave him another one of the broken pieces of her heart.
She took him home and gave him a bath. She toweled him dry and brushed some order back into his coat. For that, he was grateful and even though his own heart was loaded with worms, he accepted yet another piece of her heart, for it would help to heal his own.
"Would you like some water, big boy?" She whispered to him as she set down a large bowl of cold well water. He drank it up happily. He had been dehydrated for a long time and she knew it would take him most of the week to re-hydrate.
He wanted more water - but it was gone. Ah... that's how it is, he thought to himself. But he was grateful for what he had been able to get. "Would you like some more?" and she gave him another bowl along with another little piece of her heart.
"I know that you are hungry. You don't have to find your own food anymore. Here's a big bowl of good food for you. I've added some warm water and a little piece of my heart."
Over the four months that he stayed with her, his health improved. The heart full of worms was replaced piece by piece with little bits of her loving heart. And each little piece worked a very special kind of magic.
When the warmth of love and gentle caresses are added, the little broken pieces knit together again and heal the container it resides in. That container becomes whole again.
She watched each little broken piece fill a gap in the gentle dog until his quiet eyes radiated the light from the little pieces. You see, kind words gently spoken turn the little pieces into illumination for the spirit that resides within.
He rested beside her, happy to be with her always. Never had he known such kindness, such gentle caresses; such love. His health had returned, his spirit was playful as a young dog's should be and he had learned about love.
Now his heart was full. The healing was complete. It was time to go. There was another person who had another heart that was meant to be shared with him.
So she sat shapeless on the floor because all the broken pieces of her heart were with the dog. It is difficult to sit tall when your heart is not with you. She wrapped her arms around the dog that sat with tall, proud ears for her. Lean on me, he said.
And she gave him one last thing that would keep him strong; that would keep the pieces of her heart together long after he had gone on to live his new life. She gave him her tears and bound them to the pieces with a simple statement made from the ribbons of her heart.
"I love you, Joe." And Joe lived happily ever after.
Melissa sat on the floor, straight and tall like her mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child. Today, it would be possible. And tomorrow... it probably would be possible too. Because her mind was busy thinking about this, the next dog that lay across her lap.
Where did she get the heart to help yet another dog, you ask? Ahhh... it came with the dog. They always bring a little bit of heart with them. And when the rescuer breathes in that little bit of heart, it quickly grows and fills the void left by the last dog.
~
Grace Saalsaa ~ (Written for those who foster)
Web Site:
MidAmerica Border Collie Rescue
