I found your dog today.
No, he has not been adopted by anyone. Most of us who live out
here own as many dogs as we want. Those who do not own dogs do
so because they choose not to.
I know you hoped he would find a good home when you left him out
here, but he did not.
When I first saw him, he was miles from the nearest house and he
was alone, thirsty, thin, and limping from a cactus burr in his
How I wish I could have been you as I stood before him. To have
seen his tail wag and his eyes brighten as he bounded into your
arms, knowing you would find him, knowing that you had not
To see the forgiveness in his eyes for the suffering and pain he
had known in his never ending quest to find you...
But I was not you.
And despite all my persuasion, his eyes beheld a stranger. He
did not trust and he would not come to me.
He turned and continued his journey, one he was sure would soon
bring him to you.
He does not understand you are not looking for him. He only
knows you are not there. He only knows he must find you.
This is more important than food or water or the stranger who
can give him these things.
Persuasion and pursuit seemed futile. I did not even know his
name. I drove home, filled a bucket with water and a bowl with
food and returned to where we had met.
I could see no sign of him but I left my offering under the tree
where he had sought shelter from the sun and a chance to rest.
You see, he is not of the desert. When you domesticated him, you
took away any instinct of survival out here. His purpose demands
that he travel during the day. He doesn't know that the sun and
heat will claim his life. He only knows that he has to find you.
I waited, hoping he would return to the tree. Hoping my gift
would build a an element of trust so I might bring him home,
remove the burr from his paw, give him a cool place to lie and
help him understand that the part of his life with you is now
He did not return that morning and at dusk the water and food
were still untouched. And I worried.
You must understand that many people would not attempt to help
your dog. Some would run him off, others would call the county
and the fate you thought you saved him from would be preempted
by his suffering from days without food and water.
I returned before dark. I did not see him. I went again early
the next morning only to find the food and water still
If only you were here so you could call his name. Your voice is
so familiar to him.
I began pursuit in the direction he had taken yesterday, doubt
overshadowing my hope of finding him. His search for you was
desperate. It could take him many miles in 24 hours.
It is hours later and a good distance from where we first met,
but I have found your dog. His thirst has been stopped. It is no
longer a torment to him. His hunger has disappeared. He no
The burrs in his paws bother him no more. Your dog has been set
free from his burdens.
You see, your dog has died. I kneel next to him, and I curse you
for not being here yesterday so I could have seen the glow, if
just for a moment, in those now vacant eyes.
I pray that his journey has taken him to that place I think you
had hoped he would find.
If only you knew what he went through to reach it....
.....and I agonize, for I know that were he to awaken at this
moment, and if I were to be you, his eyes would sparkle with
recognition and his tail wag with forgiveness.