WE WERE A PAIR

That season when boughs of holly

were supposed to be the decore,

me and that border collie hobbled.

Me, on the inside, and she, on the outside

with her broken leg in a splint.

Docs all said her leg would not heal

without the expensive surgery that I could not afford.

Broke and alone, we went, me and she.

Empty nest and then no nest,

we were a pair, that dog and me.

Through the snow and tears I led her,

carrying my pain and hers; lifting her into my pick-up,

going sadly from place to place, lost and focused on

my own demise, to release me from the freezing,

dark cold place I had come to in my life.

She let me lift her down from the seat and

that pup of hers would fly like a deer into and out of

the truck, oblivious to her mother's and my pain.

That pup was the free spirit we wished we could be.

We were a pair, that dog and me.

Hating the splint, she tore at it and bit it off.

I wrapped the leg and put the splint back on that dangling limb.

"Cut it off," some said and others said,

"Just put her down and be done with it!"

But my heart could not bear to take her leg or life.

So I prayed with oil and faith, as her leg seemed

symbolic to my life at that point, broken and useless.

"Jesus, please heal this dog, " I prayed with pleading and hope.

Her searching eyes just looked into mine, wondering

what in the world I was doing putting such things on her leg.

As the winter started to pass, so did my darkness and His

hand gently reached down and lifted me out of my pit, and my

dog began at the same time to walk on that leg.

In unison we both seemed to heal.

We were a pair, that dog and me.