A righteous man regardeth the life of his
beast; but the tender mercies of the wicked
are cruel (Proverbs 12: 10).

Ever since I was a little girl, animals and
flying creatures have been very special to
me. Although they do not have an everlasting
soul or spirit to live on forever, I truly
believe they do feel and express emotions...
and they can be great companions.

God's creation

In fact, the first companions God created
for mankind were animals. The Lord
gave them a remarkable emotional
sensitivity. For example, at times when I've been
ill, my cat, Finica, would come lie by my
side and not leave. But when I'm well and
joyful, she's joyful, too.

Because animals are sensitive and have
feelings, I feel we, as the highest of God's
creation, should take the responsibility to
care for the animals God gave to us for
companions.

As a little girl, I always had a natural
instinct to care for animals. If a bird flew in
front of my father's car, it would make my
heart flip, afraid it wouldn't get out of the
way in time. And I instinctively wanted to
help and protect all animals...even more so
as I realized my God-given responsibility.

And now it seems as though, in my
awareness, I see many animals that I could
help.

A sad truth about the day in which we're
living is that most people don't want to be
bothered, even if another person needs our
help on the street, much less an animal.
Most folks seem to just drive right by. But
we mustn't allow ourselves to become so
calloused that we don't care. I believe if we
can ignore an animal in need, we'll ignore
people in need. If we abuse animals, we'll
abuse people.

In fact, the Michigan Humane Society
released a study which indicated that often
animal abusers become child abusers! So
if one finds himself becoming callous and
indifferent to animals, he'd better watch
himself.

The rescue

One day I was driving to the store and,
at a very busy intersection, I found the most
beautiful white police dog. Cars were
honking and screeching around him, and
the poor animal was frantically going back
and forth in the middle of the traffic. I
realized if someone didn't rescue the dog, it
would be killed. I stopped, put on my car's
blinker lights, and went over to the dog.
When I called, he came immediately, tail
wagging. I led him to the car and he jumped
in the back seat.

My new friend had a collar on, so I knew
that someone had cared for him. By making
a few inquiries, I soon found that his home
was about a mile from where I'd found him.
And when I took him home, his owners
were absolutely elated that I had found their
dog. He had gone out of the fenced backyard
through an open gate. By the time they
had realized he was out, he'd gotten lost.
I'm not sure who was happiest that he was
home -- the dog, his owners...or me!

On several occasions, I've rescued stray
cats, fed them, and either returned them to
their owners, or found a new home for them.
Also, Jack and I give regularly to our local
humane society to help in this work with animals.

Get involved

If everybody would be willing to get
involved a few times in their lives, think of
how many animals could be helped. And I
believe if we are tenderhearted toward
animals, we'll love people more, also. If we're
willing to do something for someone
-- who can't do anything in return
for us, it says something about the kind of
people we are...it says something about our
character.

Recently, I saw an essay in the Detroit
Free Press Magazine that moved me so much
I asked permission to share it with you. I
pray it will touch your heart and motivate
you to get involved first with needy people
and then, with needy animals. Don't be
like those who did not care, but be a good
samaritan. (See Luke 10:36,37).

See Spot Die

by Javan Kienzel

I had your dog put to sleep the other
day. You gave me little alternative.

It was in the midst of one of Michigan's
April weather-by-the-hour blizzards. I saw
her -- a pitiful heap on the edge of the Eight
Mile median. Lots of other drivers had to
see her, but traffic was heavy and the
weather, as I said, was bad.

I don't know who you are, but she was
once your dog. She was wearing a collar
(but no tags, so you can't be identified) and,
as I learned later, she had been spayed.

As I approached her, I could see she was
a small, mixed breed. She pulled herself to
her feet, backed up, and bared her teeth. I
used my folded coat as a shield and tried to
get closer. She continued to retreat,
snarling.

I tried a different ploy. I opened the
front and rear doors of my car and walked
off a distance. After some hesitation, she
finally clambered up into the front seat.

She was alternately baring her teeth and
barking as I approached. I spoke quietly,
in what I hoped were reassuring tones, as I
inched closer. Finally, she retreated to the
passenger seat. Still holding my coat as a
buffer, I slowly slid into the driver's seat
and carefully put the car in gear.

As we entered traffic, she shook herself,
giving me and the car's interior a muddy
shower. She must have been out in the
sleet for a long while.

Gradually, she settled down, although
she whimpered every so often. She didn't
seem able to get comfortable.

Time was short. I was headed for a
medical appointment that had taken me
some time to get. I continued to speak
quietly to the dog, who now accepted my
touch. I patted her head cautiously, and
when I stopped for a light, ran my hand
over her body to check for injuries. She
winced as I came to a huge swelling and a
raw, jagged wound.

I stopped at two veterinary clinics, but
neither could locate a convenient animal
shelter. Mercifully, the second clinic agreed
to keep her while I kept my appointment.

When I returned after my appointment,
the dog came to me willingly and entered
the car without problem.

She obviously needed help. But where
to get it?

The last time I had picked up a stray, I
had thrown myself on the mercy of our
neighborhood vet. He had accepted the
animal, kept it overnight, and phoned the
shelter for a pickup the next day. I would
throw myself -- and my passenger -- on their
mercy again.

No prodigal was ever given a more caring
welcome. Dr. Chang, aided by Dr. Muns
and one of the staff, with the aid of a rabies
stick, finally removed the now near-frantic
dog from the car and carried her into the
examining room, all the while speaking
gently and reassuringly to the terrified
animal.

An X-ray, blood test, and examination
told the story. The dog was somewhere
between six and seven years old. It
appeared she had been a stray for some time:
she was thin to the point of emaciation,
and burrs were matted in her coat. She
had a variety of skin tumors and cysts.
She bore evidence of battles, some old, some
more recent, probably with cats and other
dogs -- but one unhealed laceration looked
as if it might be a gunshot wound of some
kind, with the possibility that a BB or shot
was still lodged in her. There was
suppurating ear infection; her eyes were reddened,
and she had a temperature of 104 degrees.
Her stool consisted largely of bones --
evidence that, without decent food, she had
barely survived by scavenging. Her heart
was enlarged; there were growths in the
abdominal/lung area, and arthritis of the
spine.

Even had the immediate problems been
healed, and even had she been fed and
cleaned, her life expectancy was undoubtedly
only a very few months -- and wretchedly
agonizing months at that.

"Please put her out of her misery," I said.

They led the little dog in from the X-ray
room. Seeing me, she wagged her tail
feebly and, as I knelt, she crept to me and
rested her head trustingly in the curve of
my arms.

One of the assistants had told me once,
"I always try to be there and hold an animal
whose owner isn't there when it has to be
euthanized." I was glad she was there with
me now. Both of us held and petted and
spoke to the little dog as Dr. Chang inserted
the merciful needle.

It was over in a minute. Peacefully and
quietly she relaxed and went limp. As she
lay there on the towel, we stroked her
battered body.

She was out of her misery.

She was a good little dog. With decent
care, she could have lived a long life. You
gave her about six years.

You cared for her once upon a time, to
some degree. You had her spayed. Did it
trouble you at all to abandon this friendly
little dog? Did her friendship mean nothing
at all to you? Or is this the way you treat
your friends?

When you last saw her, she was a frisky,
healthy pet, trusting, secure, and happy.
That was when you discarded her.

I thought it of some importance that you
know what happened to her after you
dumped her.

I'm projecting a bit now, but I think she
waited for you to reclaim her. I think she
knew you'd come and rescue her. She could
not have fathomed how you could do
otherwise. I think that's one of the reasons she
resisted my first efforts: She was still
waiting for you.

She'd been thrown on her own in a hard
city -- frightened, cold, harried, bewildered.
Hunger drove her to rummage through
garbage that ravaged her insides. Larger dogs
attacked and mutilated her. She fled from
bullets. But she kept coming back to where
you'd left her. Her spirit and flesh were
almost dead when I found her. She was
living only for your return.

I had your dog put to sleep the other
day. You gave me little alternative.

Reprinted from Detroit Free Press Magazine (April 29,
1990) by permission.

One of the great ironies in the gospel
accounts of Jesus' last days on earth is the
story of His Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem.
We still remember and commemorate this
event each year on Palm Sunday.

The Bible tells us that Jesus sent two
disciples to find a donkey colt no one had
ever ridden before and to bring it to Him.
They did. And then they put their cloaks
across the little animal's back for a saddle.

Then Jesus rode from the Mount of
Olives, across the valley and through the
narrow streets up to the gate of Jerusalem.
A multitude of people prepared the way for
Him, spreading their garments and strewing
branches from trees in His path.

"Hosannah!" they cried. "Blessed is He
that cometh in the name of the Lord.
Hosannah in the highest!"

So Jesus entered Jerusalem, and into
the Temple, with the adulation of the
multitude who hoped He would become their
new king. Sadly, only a few days later,
many of these same people would join the
throngs demanding that Christ be crucified!

But there's a part of the story about the
Triumphal Entry that has always fascinated
me. It's about the donkey colt Jesus rode
that day. That little animal has some
important lessons for us, I think.

The donkey was available

First, the little donkey was available,
ready to be used. Jesus knew the colt was
there and sent His disciples to the particular
place they could find him. And when
the animal's owners were told that the
Master had need of the donkey, they willingly
let him go.

But the donkey was willing, too. Mark's
Gospel says no man had ever sat on his
back. He was unbroken, untamed,
untrained. But he was available.

Why didn't Jesus choose a larger,
better-qualified animal to carry Him -- a
spirited riding horse, or at least the mother
of the colt? Why did He ask for such an
humble little animal?

I believe the reason might be to show us
that the Lord can use small things -- if they're
available and ready to be used. One doesn't
have to have a great voice to sing God's
praises. Nor is it necessary to have great
talent and training to teach a Sunday school
class. One need not have "a way with words"
to send birthday greetings, get well, or
sympathy cards to people who need to hear
from someone who cares.

Are you available? Are you willing to do
what you can for the Lord, however small
your talent or ability seems to you? There
is something you can do -- God has given
each of us spiritual gifts to use in His service.

But we have to be available. Had the
little colt been hidden away where the
disciples couldn't find him, he would have
missed having the Son of God ride upon his
back!

Remember the story of the five wise and
five foolish virgins who were invited to the
marriage supper. When the bridegroom
came, the five foolish virgins were gone --
not available to go into the wedding.

How many times do you and I miss out
on God's great blessings simply because
we're not available when the Lord desires to
use us?

The donkey was submissive

I don't know a lot about animals, but
I've been told that horses, mules, and
donkeys have to be broken, or trained, to be
ridden. They have to learn to accept the
burden of a rider and to respond to his
direction and guidance.

This wild little donkey had never been
ridden before -- no man had ever sat on his
back. But when the disciples brought him
to Jesus and put a cloak on his back for a
saddle, he was submissive. There is no
record in the scripture that he protested,
bucked, or rebelled.

He couldn't have known what was
happening, or what was ahead. One moment
he was standing peacefully at his mother's
side -- the next he was dragged away and a
heavy burden was put upon him. And as
far as we can tell, the little donkey submitted
to these strange events without a fuss.

How often do we balk and buck when
asked to carry out some assignment or bear
some burden? "Why me?" we cry. "Get
somebody else."

So often we tend to hold back until we
can see the end from the beginning. We
want to see the light at the end of the tunnel
before we go into it. We want to
understand everything happening in our lives
before we submit to it. But that's not the way
life works. Submission is more than
agreeing just with what we understand and
approve.

How proud and presumptuous to say to
God, "Show me Your will for my life, then if
I like it, I'll do it!" The Apostle Peter warns,
God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to
the humble. Humble yourselves therefore
under the mighty hand of God, that he may
exalt you in due time (1 Peter 5:5,6).

When God leads us to do something for
Him, rather than worrying about being
embarrassed, put on the spot, or even
misunderstood or disliked by other people, we
should submit immediately, trusting in Him.
We need to be willing to be led by the Holy
Spirit in such a way that we will obey --
blindly, if need be -- no matter what God asks.

The little donkey submitted to Jesus... and so should we.

The donkey was unafraid

Can you imagine a more difficult and
frightening time to be ridden for the first
time than this colt experienced? He had no
preparation, no training. He is snatched
away from his mother by strangers, another
stranger gets upon his back, and he bears
his first burden through narrow streets
crowded with excited, shouting people,
waving tree branches and clothing,
crowding around him from every side.

Such an experience would be enough to
excite any animal and make him nervous
and skittish. But the little donkey didn't
kick anybody or try to get away. He just
kept going along, carrying Jesus the way
He wanted to go.

I'm sure the Lord must have leaned over
and whispered to the little animal, "Don't
be afraid. Don't fear -- I'm with you." And
in the most confusing circumstances, with
the press of the multitude all around, the
colt kept calm and cool. He just kept on
doing what he was supposed to do, going
where he was supposed to go. And because
Jesus was with him, he was not afraid.

God's supreme sacrifice

Bible scholars tell us there was great
significance in Jesus' visit to Jerusalem at
this time, just before the Passover
sacrifices. The gate Jesus entered to reach the
city was the one through which people
brought their sacrifices to the Temple. No
doubt the streets were full of sheep and
lambs being led to the sacrificial altar. And
here comes God's Son, riding on a donkey,
about ready to be offered up as the
supreme sacrifice for the sins of the world!

So, because he was available,
submissive, and unafraid, the little donkey played
a key role in one of the most riveting events
in all of history.

If the donkey could speak to us today,
what do you suppose he would say?

It would not be the first time a donkey
spoke. The Old Testament, in Numbers 22,
tells of Balaam's donkey who chided the
prophet who rode him, for opposing the will
of God. The donkey saw what Balaam's
spiritually blinded eyes did not -- the angel
of the Lord with a drawn sword, standing in
the path.

If you listen very carefully with the ears
of your heart, I think you can hear the little
donkey's voice even now. He's saying --

"If God could use me, He can use you,
too. No one is too humble or insignificant to
have a place in God's service.

"Just be available -- stay where the Lord
can reach you. Keep an open heart, an
open, holy life.

"Then, trust God enough to submit to
Him. Don't buck and kick against the
unknown. Decide that the Lord knows what's
best and simply do what He asks. He'll
never steer you wrong!

"And last, you don't have to be afraid
when Jesus is with you. His presence, His
touch, will calm your fears and keep you on
track no matter what goes on around you.

"Maybe you've never done anything great,
or accomplished very much before. But
your life can be different. If you're
available, submissive, and unafraid, who knows
what you'll be chosen to do and how
important it may be to the world.

"After all, you're even more important to
God than a little donkey such as I. And the
very first time I was ridden, I carried the
King!"