Animal Planet was on the television at the vet’s office, and since I had all fifteen pounds of my nervous pup squashed up between my arms and my lap, reading was impossible. So I was forced to watch. Airing was something called Animal Cops. I sat down to wait in the middle of an episode of horror.
Emaciated dogs, so skinny they had to be carried, were being rescued from breeding pens. These animals were left to die in the Texas heat without food or even water. The sheriff’s team of conducting the raid found 35 carcasses on the property. My own pet,
along with 100 others, had been rescued just one short year ago from a puppy
mill. She had been forced to breed in squalor, but unlike these poor creatures, at least she had been fed. Sitting there, in the waiting room surrounded by people and smells and noises, I stroked her back and nuzzled her neck to hide the tears in my eyes. The scenes on the television before me were awful. Poor, defenseless animals were locked inside their very own hell. How could anyone do such a terrible thing to another living creature?
And then, inside my head, at that very moment, I had a thought so disturbing I could feel the surge of adrenaline shoot through my nervous system. My heart skipped and I had a sensation as startling as if ice water had been thrown down my back:
I love my dog more than god loves his children.
This is the video of the rescue that led us to getting our sweet girl: