The Right To Grunt

      

         Dear Reader,  the writing below is of spiritual material. I want to tell you that because I do not want to draw anyone in with false pretenses. I will understand if someone does not want to read it. At the same time I want to thank all those who have read my blogs. I so much would like to encourage, inform, inspire and yes, also try to entertain with the writings. Thank you for visiting  me.

    

 The Right To Grunt 

The room is small, well-lit, clean. The metal table we place our dog on... cold like my hands.

My Jack Russell terrier stands one leg shaking. We wait for what we hope is a casual exam, for the doctor to say, "He's got an infection or a swollen gland. He'll be fine."

       The vet touches the small protruding spot. He puts on gloves. Fingers penetrate our dog.

We hold on to him. He grunts. I ache. His penetration reaches right into my heart. The veterinarian's assistance comments, "Oh, he's such a good puppy! Only grunts. Others try to bite."  I pet his face. He grunts again. My poor dog. He trusts us and we're allowing this. His owners, his masters, his Mom and Dad. I think to myself, "Grunt my doggy. I understand."   

        The exam is finished and the torture for both dog and man stops. Dr. Gregory responds with his usual calm manner and  his words, " It's probably a cyst... something we can lance. Bring him in and we'll take care of it."  I hear only one word, probably. I study the doctor's face searching...probably is a word I've heard from doctors before. No guarantees. If it were metal it would be a thin, crushable tin.               

         The call comes. I step into the land mine.

         "It's cancer. Not a good place to operate. Can cause damage. Better  left alone."

          The doctor's voice tunnels away. The call finishes. I place the phone back in its place where I'm not and go seek my dog. I hold his body close, his fur soft on my lips. I kiss him and kiss him while inside me I hear loud grunting. My soul speaks to Him. "I trust You. And You're allowing this? My Owner. My Master, My Father, My Dad."  The words I said to my precious Checkers at the vet's come back,  directed to me like an answer. " Grunt my daughter, I understand."