About a month ago, I noticed Caleb heading out our front door with a bag of trash in one hand and a bowl of food scraps in the other. He said the scraps were for two puppies he'd discovered living in the trash pit where refuse from all the missionary homes gets dumped for periodic burning.
Not the loveliest corner of Haiti:
After dinner that night, curiosity drove Caleb's siblings and me to follow him down the trail to the trash heap. Sadly, one of the two puppies lay motionless against the wall. It was too late for him.
But this little girl came to greet the five of us, timidly wagging her tail. She was in rough shape - open sores on her head, ears and back. Ribs showing. Seemingly alone in the world and surviving on scraps of food found among the garbage.
Hannah went running back to the house to grab some Q-tips and antibiotic ointment and within minutes she and Sarah were doctoring up that pitiful puppy.
Now, I am a dog-lover ... but I'm also a realist. I was immediately concerned that the kids were going to get attached and go to great lengths to nurse this pup back to health, only to be heartbroken by the inevitable visit by the Angel of Death! Or ...
OR the dog was going to survive and then the kids would be begging to keep it. And I would have to be the one to say "No". We had tried to raise a Haitian pup a few years ago and it had been disastrous - that whiny, yapping puppy (misnamed "Buddy") had quickly grown into an unpredictably fierce biting machine with no friends outside our immediate family. (And even the family was not unanimous in that!)
Besides, we already HAVE a dog. Oreo joined our family 14 years ago, just before Samuel was born. And this past August we had finally brought her to live with us in Haiti, relieving Grandma Trudy after four years of dogsitting duty she had never asked for.
We joke that we brought Oreo down to the Caribbean for her retirement, but in reality, we had all missed having her around.
So we already have a dog and she's plenty enough to look after on her own (especially since she's developed a leaky bladder in her old age).
But I certainly couldn't object to the heartfelt compassion which drove the kids to begin making morning and evening trips to the trash pit to check on and feed the little Trash Puppy. (Even though sometimes it involved scrambling eggs that I had paid good money for.)
After several days, the kids were excited to report that the pup was beginning to gain strength and her skin was healing up. She was always happy to see them but never once attempted to follow them back home. Which I thought was PERFECT.
And then, one dark evening, there was a faint whimper outside our front door. Trash Puppy was sitting on our porch. She had found us! And SOME inhabitants welcomed her wholeheartedly. (And some did not.)
If you look closely at the above photo, you'll notice Oreo on the inside of the front door, shooting laser beams out of her eyes directly at Trash Puppy's head. (And I was on Oreo's side.)
Trash Puppy was still there the next day... and the next ... and the next.
She was given a water dish to drink from, table scraps to eat, and an old towel to sleep on. In other words, she wasn't about to leave anytime soon.
And then Trash Puppy got a bath ... several baths ...
And then started turning on the puppy charm full blast every chance she got.
She won ME over with a quality extremely rare in puppies and highly valued by me - the ability to quietly sleep through the entire night without a single whimper or yelp.
She has yet to win over Oreo - who alternates between pretending Trash Puppy doesn't exist at all and snarling loudly in her general direction.
There was really only one final, big step to make it all "official". She needed a name.
Sarah was especially helpful in suggesting several dozen options. Eventually, we settled on ...
"Ginger" seemed appropriate not only for her color, but for her general demeanor. Under the puppy friskiness, she most definitely has a gentle, grateful heart.
For several weeks now I have talked tough to the kids (and on Facebook) about "Trash Puppy" and how I didn't want her sticking around, but the truth is I'm a sucker for a good redemption story.
It's looking like Ginger has been rescued from the trash pit, given a new name, and adopted into a family. Who can resist being a part of a story like that?
Psalm 40:2
"He lifted me out of the pit,
Out of the mud and mire;
He set my feet on a rock
And gave me a firm place to stand."
Keep Oreo in your prayers ... she might be overcompensating just a bit as she attempts to step up her cuteness game...
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