All The Small Creatures

When Herself was a teeny child, her parents purchased a humble little farm house in Maine.  Cold Comfort Farm, it was dubbed:  the only heat was supplied by the fireplaces and the wood-burning kitchen stove.  There was a rickety staircase to the tiny room where Herself slept, across the landing from the doorway that led to the unfinished portion of the attic where occasionally they would find a large and lumbering porcupine munching happily on the wood beams.  The fields and woods nearby had many woodchuck burrows, and the family dog would disappear for hours to investigate them, with a muffled barking as the only sign of his whereabouts.  He would return, exhausted, at the end of the day, have a huge drink of water, and then lie in the middle of the floor to rest.

There were not many neighbors on the dirt road up to the farmhouse.  Bessie and her husband owned the property down the hill and to the right.  It was a minuscule hunting cabin, with an outhouse.  Bessie and her husband also owned a house in "town" (such as it was), and Herself's family would occasionally go there for tea and cookies.  There were no toys at Bessie's house; it was rather a bit dull while the adults chatted.  Herself would attempt to entertain herself by sitting outside and watching what would pass by the house.

One visit, Herself noticed a scraggly small dog who appeared to be entertaining itself in the same manner:  it sat slightly down the street, watching passersby, and keeping its distance.  Bessie explained that the dog was a stray who did not like people; they left out food for the dog, but the dog would not let anyone near, no matter what anyone tried.

Herself sat, still as could be, in the yard.  She was near enough to the food bowl to see the dog, but far enough away that the dog could still eat unhindered if it chose to do so.  Herself waited.

The dog crept near. And nearer.  And surprisingly, nearer to Herself than to the dish.  Finally, the dog was close enough to allow Herself to give it a few small pats.  It scampered off when the adults opened the door to the house and stepped out.

Ah, stray dog.  Thank for giving a lonely child that moment of connection.

------

Since that time, Herself has harbored a fondness in her heart for all the timid and self-effacing animals -- those who are shy, those who are defective, those who are in need but are afraid.  Yesterday when she spent time admiring the dogs at a local pet store's dog adoption event, she was reminded of the dog near Bessie's house, and her heart broke just a bit for the unwanted dogs:  the 10-year-old dachshund with four remaining teeth, who just needed a lap for her last remaining years; the one-eyed chihuahua; the exhausted overused female dogs who needed peace and space and an opportunity to play instead of producing endless litters of puppies.  Hopefully by the end of the day, some of them found new homes and new chances.

All the small creatures. She can't help them all.  All she can do is take the best care she can, of the ones she has.