| Miss Scarlet |
| Written by Gerald and Georgia Jennings | |
|
At sixty-four going on sixty-five, there have been a lot of dogs (as well as others of God's little creatures) in my life. All of them made me smile, brought me much joy and comfort . So in a way, this is a tribute to all of them—Penny, Rusty, Bouncer, Elvie, Bennie, Bobo, Lady, and all the others too numerous to name here who nevertheless are in my heart forever.
But among them, while you love them all, there is always one that is special. That was Miss Scarlet. The Lord took her home just four days ago, and that has left an enormous void in my heart. She was a pug, and a rescue dog. Probably no-one else would have adopted her, and she likely would have been euthanized if we hadn't taken her home. She had spent her previous life pumping out puppies at a puppy mill, until she was evidently deemed too worn out to be of any further use. Either bearing too many pups—or more likely, deliberate mistreatment—had left her with an injured spine that made it difficult for her to walk. Such treatment would certainly have left a lesser spirit either vicious, or timid and mistrustful. Scarlet was neither. She was at one and the same time too strong and too sweet for that. How God managed to put so much sweetness and strength of spirit into one little eighteen-pound body is a miracle in and of itself. In my lowest times, all she had to do to make me smile was come up to me with that clumsy gait of hers wagging her tail. I think her vocal cords had also been damaged. She didn't really bark, just ”talked” in a sort of low raspy growl. The first time we took her to the vet, he laughed till the tears came as she looked at him, clearly scolding him and telling him exactly how she felt about having a needle unexpectedly stuck in in her rump. When we'd had her for several years—she was already middle aged when we got her—she developed problems with one eye. Eventually it had to be surgically removed. About two months ago, she was attacked by another dog, and her remaining good eye was damaged. We carefully doctored it under our vet's care with antibiotics and pressure medicines, hoping the cornea would heal, but it would not. Dr Josh—a wonderful person, can't say enough good about him--did everything he possibly could to save the eye, but at last told us it would also have to be removed. He was clearly distraught as he told us the bad news, but assured us she would be fine in our little home. We were prepared to be her eyes. My wife took her to the vet the day of the surgery. I was at work. It was a beautiful sunny day, and she let Scarlet walk in the grass outside for awhile. She was happy as she always was, wagging her tail, eager to be picked up by one she loved and trusted. She died on the operating table less than three hours later, her happy spirit as indomitable as ever, but her poor worn, mistreated body simply had nothing left to give. It was a great privilege, a gift from God for which I will always be grateful, to have the opportunity to give this great and gentle spirit the love she deserved, to be able to make her last years a time of peace and comfort. She taught me so much about patience and what it means to love and the importance of giving care. As a miserable sinner, my chances of being admitted to Heaven are chancy; but if Scarlet isn't there right now, romping, back straight and sound, eyes bright, in some unimaginably beautiful meadow, or being caressed by the gentle hands of the Master Himself, if such greatness and sweetness of spirit are lost forever, nothing but dust in a grave in our back yard, then life is meaningless, there is no justice, and there is no God worthy of the name. I reject that. If Scarlet isn't there waiting for me when my time comes, should I be lucky enough to be forgiven my many transgressions, then however perfect it might be in every other way, Heaven will be a bitter disappointment. God bless you, little girl.             |
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