Never Mix a Relationship and Animal Rescue

One night around 10:00 p.m. there was a knock on my front door. Looking out the side window, I noticed it was a girl who was a good friend and since we were possibly heading toward a higher level of friendship, I made the assumption that this was a good thing. How wrong could I have been? ”Oh, Jimmy, I just saw a little dog on the side of the road that looks like he had been hit by a car. Could you go with me to get him and see if ‘we’ can help him?” she sniffed in her best dog-lover and man-manipulative voice. What choice did I have? My preference was to climb back onto the sofa and finish whatever junk television show I was watching, but there was a relationship at stake here. Plus, I do love dogs and the thought of a hurt puppy out in the dark on the side of the road did bother me a bit. So, we headed out to her car and I noticed her cat’s travel cage in the back with the dreaded cat-beast in residence. The cat-beast hates everyone and greeting me with the usual hiss and snarl and a screech that would curdle your blood.

As we pulled of the road where the hurt puppy was lying, I could see that it was definitely hurt seriously by a likely car encounter. I grabbed a blanket from the trunk of the car and went to pick up poor hurt-puppy. Thankfully, it allowed me to pick him up without any problems and as I got close to the light of the car, I asked manipulator-girl, “oh dear, where are we going to put hurt-puppy with the cat-beast taking up the back seat?” The look I received told me without words how stupid the question was and that I would be sharing my seat and lap with hurt-puppy on the way to the all night emergency vet.

Now, this would have been okay, except that when cat-beast saw me and hurt-puppy getting back into the car, cat-beast went ballistic in a fury of scream, hisses, and some type of spittle substance hurled in my direction. The only thing to make the scene more romantic was in the light of the car; I could notice that a car injury was not the only problems hurt-puppy had. For one thing, it was just one mighty ugly dog and then it was covered with all manner of mangy illnesses that I preferred to not have on my lap or my person. Knowing better than to question the seating arrangement, I tried to arrange the blanket with plenty of material between me and hurt-mangy-puppy while avoiding the claws and spittle of cat-beast.

All this time, the rescue-girl was telling me how to hold hurt-mangy-puppy and to quit complaining about her precious cat-beast. Finally, we deposited the hurt-mangy-puppy at the emergency vet counter (naturally rescue-girl didn’t have any money, so I had to pay for the adventure with my credit card), and the kind soul there promised us to take good care of hurt-mangy-puppy, restore him to health and find a nice adoptive home. I made the mistake of asking if they could find a nice adoptive home for cat-beast and earned a punch in the stomach.

Any religious applications here? I don’t know where except to remind us that God loves us regardless of whether we are a cat-beast, a hurt-mangy puppy, a rescue girl with no money but good intentions or a guy who will no longer open his front door after dark.

And for today my friends, this has been the gospel according to Jimmy.