It was just a man and his dog

It was just a man and his dog.

When I drove up with my cat YoYo, they were sitting in his truck. It was 7.50am, and the vet's office hadn't opened. So we parked in the lot and waited.

He looked like the tough macho kind. Big thick hands. Maybe a construction worker. He wouldn't make eye contact with me when I smiled at him through our windshields.

His dog was a little yippee-yappee sort of thing. I'm not good with ID'ing dogs.

I wasn't in much of a mood either. YoYo hadn't been eating or pooping. Two days ago he started peeing brownish stuff all over the floor. Lethargic. Losing weight. Not good.

My heart was heavy for him.

Also heavy because for sure my wallet was about to get lighter. How much lighter? This was on my mind.

In the vet's office, I let the man go first.

He had come to drop Yippee-Yappee off to be put down.

Oh.

"Will you be staying with him?" the receptionist asked.

"No" (manly, gruffly).

On the drive over YoYo had peed that brownish stuff all over his hind quarters, matting his long hair. Yuck. So I'm sitting there holding him and thinking, "I should have just worn a junky tee shirt; this stuff is getting all over me."

Next thing I know the man comes out of a back room without his dog.

He was crying uncontrollably.

And I was once again amazed at just how intricately God had designed the human heart.

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Proverbs 12.10 A righteous man cares for the needs of his animal, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel.