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Miller's tale
Originally appeared on spirituality.com
It was a snowy December evening on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The wood stove fire felt welcoming as I settled the children into bed. I had a farm in Harwich, nestled in the woods, next to a large cranberry bog. It was an extraordinary place, and home to many animals that found their way there, and critters that I brought home from the small veterinary hospital where I worked.
We had sheep, goats, many dogs and cats, most of whom were challenged in some fashion, either blind, deaf, three-legged, or fearful, all needing a great deal of care. We even had a pig named Tiger who grew to be 800 pounds!
Several weeks before, I had seen a gaunt looking German shepherd lurking about the sheep’s pen, looking mighty hungry. Each time I tried to talk to the dog, he darted away and disappeared into the woods. I began leaving scraps out for him, hoping to gain his trust, but he steered clear of any contact with me or my children. On this particular evening, I had seen him crossing a road near our home, staggering. With the snow beginning to fall and night approaching, all our animals safe and warm, I was full of concern for him.
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