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
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.