The man stood watching Drover on the back porch as the dog vainly tried to soothe his diseased skin by licking the infected areas. He had long since scratched the fur away. The man had taken him to the vet, which was an ordeal for both man and beast. The vet had no certain answers about the skin problem, but he discovered that Drover also suffered from heartworms. To get rid of the heartworms would be expensive and risky, and would require many weeks of confinement for freedom-loving Drover. It just wasn’t tenable. They’d tried bathing the dog and applying skin balms, but nothing seemed to soothe the irritated dermis for long.  

Drover lay down and licked his skin until, exhausted, he laid his weary head on his paws. His breath came heavily. Then he began to squirm, and then he began licking again. He looked up, and his haunted brown eyes met the man’s compassionate gaze. At that moment, the man reached the decision that he’d been dodging for weeks. If he loved this dog, he could not allow the suffering to continue. A tear slipped down his cheek, then another.  

Drover was a loyal friend and a faithful watchdog; but finally, that is all he was, just a dog. He did not have a soul. In our society, dogs are taking the place of children in some homes. Couples are lavishing much of their affection and their wealth on their pets. This is not Scriptural, nor is it natural.  

Drover never complained. He did the best he could with life as it came to him. Now his suffering has ended. His body lies in a small grave at one corner of the man’s property, which he patrolled so vigilantly in life. It is a grave that will remain undisturbed on the resurrection morning.  

A pet can teach us many things, its attributes inspire. 
But like all life, an end time brings, and pets, too, must retire. 

From Paws on My Porch, by Gary Miller
© 2015 TGS International, PO Box 355, Berlin, Ohio 44610
Used by permission