FADING PAW PRINTS

FADING PAW PRINTS

My daughter and wife saw this cute dog in a pet store, and they wanted him. I gave in; the dog came home. He was a LHASA APSO and Scooter was his new name. As time passed, Scooter turned into a nasty growling attack dog that attacked both myself and my wife. We think his behavior changed  when we left him at the kennel and someone abused him.

What was to follow, will remain with me, forever!

 I left work early, and went home not wanting to think about what had to be done. I came in the door and was greeted by our dog Scooter. (With a big yawn he looked up at me and wondered what I was doing there so early.) I put his leash on and took him outside, walked him around for awhile, then headed for the car. I opened the back door, he hopped in and off we went. (I guess he was happy to see me taking time out from my busy day, and taking him for a ride in the car.) 

We entered the parking lot of the Humane Society. I parked the car and gathered all my paper work, and took Scooter and headed for the entrance door. We met the milk delivery man coming out, and he held the outer door for us. A man was coming out the next door and he held that door for us also. (Scooter was thinking, what service, such a big building, they must really like us.) 

At the front desk I found a young lady to take care of us, and explained what I was there for. After many questions, an agreement was reached and she called for some assistance. 

As we waited, there was a large dog at the far end of the desk with its owner. Scooter eyeing him started to get edgy, hearing a lot of other barking. (Scooter knew this was not his kind of place.) They gave me a different leash to put on him, and Scooter was getting scared. (What is this place anyhow?) 

A young lady came by and said what a beautiful dog he was, how well he was groomed, and must have been well taken care of. I could only think, this is not what I needed to hear right now; please, this is so difficult, please go away! Scooter was not interested, and started to cry. He kept looking up at me for security. I bent down and petted him and said It's going to be all right. I held him; again I repeated, It's going to be all right. 

What were you thinking? Did you smell death? Did you know this was your last encounter with me? Did you sense any of this? Were you so brave and went anyway? 

After 15 minutes the door opened and a man came out and asked for Scooter. The man knew what he had to do, and I told him I wanted to see Scooter when he was finished. I gave him the leash and Scooter was eager to go, and trotted off with the man. The door closed and I waited. (What's this? I was at the vets not too long ago. What Another Needle? Another shot? I know, I know, I guess it will keep me healthy. PINCH! ?That wasn't so bad boy am I sleepy! Light, what's that light, that bright light, light. . . .?) 

As I waited, the door kept opening and closing with busy activity of people coming and going. My heart pounded; my eyes, holding back tears; 10 minutes; 20 minutes; the door opened, the man came out and said I could go in now. 

I entered the room. On a table was Scooter, lying there, so still! His large size eyes were open; just staring! I put my hand on his side, feeling his soft fur. I just stared into his eyes! He was so still, all life gone! No words No thoughts So still No life So still! 

After a few moments I said OK thank you and left the room. I made it out the front door and before I got to my car the tears let go! I'm sorry Scooter, I'm sorry Scooter! I sat in my car, the tears flowed, I'm sorry Scooter, I'm, so sorry. 

I drove home, the tears draining my emotions. Why? I thought! We had our moments at times, but there was no choice! No excuses! I carried it out because it had to be done. This was the most emotional and hardest thing I ever had to do! 

Scooter, why were you so nasty? What happened to you? Why were you like that? Sometimes very good, sometimes very bad. Were you sick? Who were you? Why? Why? 

I got home and took Scooter's crate and put it out in the shed. I put all his blankets, and toys and food in bags to be given away! Then, I went back to work to finish out the day. Don't ever ask how I did this I don't know myself. In work I was fighting back the tears, reflecting on what had taken place. Finally it was time to go home! 

It was not easy entering my home with no Scooter to greet me. All evening when I went to do something, he was not in my way and the tears came again, and again. The days that followed so the tears followed also. That day in November, I learned something about myself. I knew I was sensitive, and a caring person. I knew compassion has its place and special meaning, but what I found was: Compassion is the deepest of love! The aching from the deepest part of the soul, from the heart of one's inner self. It has no boundaries it has no logic. It is the cry from Jesus himself. Compassionate Tears are the tears of Jesus, releasing the emotions of one's hurt; the understanding of someone's injustice and pain. It is the loss of hope and despair! It is the understanding of agony at its fullest. It is the cry of desperation. It is the deepest of all sorrows! It is the acceptance of all these things together, carrying them inside you, for another! 

This is compassion this is love. This is what I found this day this is what I felt this day. 

Some say this was just a dog. Some say animals don't have a soul. Some say it just doesn't matter. 

Why is it then, that God saved all the animals in the Great Flood? Did He not love them? Should we not love them? And if we feel this way about animals or a dog, what about people? How do we respond? Do we respond at all? Do we feel anything? Do we reach out and touch someone's life? Do we care to make a difference? These are questions I had often pondered. It took a dog, my Scooter to unleash the answers, and to experience the depth of one's compassion. 

Now when I go walking I walk without you Scooter, but I think of you. How you got so excited to go for a walk you loved it so! 

The reality of it all . . . . . .when you walked into that room, I knew you were not going to walk out. It was your last walk. A part of me went with you. A part of me died with you. I will miss you!

Robert J. Varrick

rjvarrick@gmail.com