My dog Samson and I had just headed out for a longer walk yesterday afternoon when a neighbor unloading her car said, “Hey, I’ve got something for you!” I don’t know her name, but I am certain we’ve waved at each other before. She handed me a grocery bag and said, “Here are some dog treats. We just had to put our dog down, and you’re the first one I saw, so you can have them.”
The words put our dog down immediately tugged at my heart. In an instant I pictured every single one I ever had to put to sleep. I said, “I know that’s hard. How old was your dog?”
“She was thirteen-an-a-half; just a little Yorkie.” As far as I’m concerned, the words “just” or “little” aren’t appropriate for describing our dogs. Each one claims significant acreage in our hearts, regardless of their actual size or age. That brief moment of sharing spoke volumes. But all I could say was, “Thank you so much!”
Sam and I talked about the encounter as we continued our walk. Well, he just listened, as I reflected how nice it was to take home an extra bag of treats and what a good dog he was.