Rescued - Part 1

Rescued (Part 1)

Well at least something is going right today I think as the snow begins to fall on my windshield.  The weatherman had predicted snow; and, snowing it definitely was.  I had just finished a long day of doctors’ visits and none of them had gone well.  I had been told that my cancer had returned and my life was now in a rapid decline.  Months I think the doctor said; but, after you receive your death sentence you tend to stop listening and all you hear is white noise rushing around in your head.

As I drive back from Baltimore, all I can think about is ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream.  There appeared no need to subject my body any longer to salads and vegetables.  What was the point?  Eating healthy apparently wasn’t going to make a difference in the big scheme of things, so might as well go out happy.

As I approach the entrance to the grocery store I happen to glance over and see him.  He is an old dog that much was clear.  His eyes are clouded over with cataracts and his muzzle is generously dotted with white.  His fur was matted and dirty and he was beggar thin.  I will myself to look away; but, somehow I can’t quite bring myself to go into the grocery store.  I feel such a connection to this old dog, perhaps because he reminds me of myself – old and unwanted.

My husband of fifty years had died a few years ago and for one reason or another, my sons had all pretty much gone their own way.  To be sure they still suffered through the obligatory visits with me; but, they tended to be painful for everyone.   Yes, the dog and I appeared to have a lot in common and I was fraught with indecision. 

It didn’t feel right to leave the dog shivering in the cold, particularly since night was approaching fast and the snow was coming down harder.  I made an executive decision and for a moment it felt good to be completely in charge of my life.  I decide to approach the dog to see what he wouldl do.

As I walk toward the dog I began to rationalize with myself that if the dog runs as I approach, then it’s not a sign from some higher power intended for me – no it’s just a dog that doesn’t want help any more than I do.  As I walk closer to the dog I begin to have a moment of self-doubt.  Why am I bothering with this mutt?  It’s not like I’m responsible for dumping him out in the cold.  So why do I feel so guilty?  What exactly is keeping me from going inside the grocery store where the ice cream aisle awaits?