Worse than a Dog

When I got home from Africa, the most unexpected change was this animosity I felt towards my beloved dog. I resented any attention my mother paid her – talking to her, combing her, feeling sorry that it was raining too hard for a walk. I was especially unwilling to accommodate my dog's desire to share the bed with me. My mother complained that I was being unnecessarily harsh towards “a member of the family,” but that irritated me all the more. My response was always the same. “She's so spoiled,” I would yell. “She's a dog.” My mother told me I needed to search my heart about what caused this change in her former queen of dog-spoilers.
At first I thought I just wasn't used to being around dogs. The dogs where I lived were creatures to be feared an avoided, not loved. They were mangy, gaunt from lack of food, and mistrusting of humans. On top of all that, they weren't given their rabies shots, so they were potential death traps as well. Before I left people joked that it would be really hard for me not to touch any “cute animals.” but it turned out to be not problem. I was happy to stay far away.
But could four months of avoiding an animal really undo a lifetime of love and affection? As I thought more about it, I realized there was something else that prompted my attitude. For four months I had volunteered in an orphanage. For four months I watched helplessly as children were treated worse than my dog. I watched children go without meals because people didn't donate enough money that month. My dog's bowl was always full. I watched children sleep on mats on a concrete floor. My dog slept on a bed. I watched children play with trash and rocks. My dog always had a plethora of new toys. Worst of all, I sat and held children as their parents walked away. My dog's family rand to her every time she cried. And I'm supposed to be ok with this?
It's a cruel world, but unfortunately, I can't change any of that by being meaner to my dog. If only it were that simple – as if love unused in one place would automatically spill to another. Wouldn't it be wonderful if love were like molecules, moving from a place of higher concentration to a less-densely populated area? But instead, the more you give, the more you have to give. So I guess the only thing to do is to try harder to love my dog, despite the injustice of her situation Oh yeah, and I can look for more ways to love a child as well.
In the meantime, maybe I should take some time to thank God that I live in a country where children are treated even better than my dog.