She nestles close to you on the bed; sleeping soundly for the first time in days she makes little wheezing sounds. She fusses in her sleep with tiny whimpers from spending the night in a deep dark culvert in the middle of nowhere as coyotes stalked her trail. She complains and fidgets in her mutterings and snuggles closer hiding from an inner horror that we may run away or leave her again.

She still has her milk teeth and might be seven or eight weeks old.  From my perspective, she is one of God's animal children that man has cruelly discarded in his haste to move on with life.

With little regard for her wellbeing, her little brown face trusts explicitly despite the blow dealt her.  My heart bleeds for her and makes me want to thrust upon those who have abandoned her with some similar fate. Let them know exactly how it feels! And yet, I guess my weakness is, I’m a glutton for cleaning up someone’s else’s mess. Thank God, for those people out there that do the same thing.

Those that know me, have heard me say exactly how I feel about those who, in some cruel and evil way, discard God's creatures.  Left to fend for themselves in wide open spaces, full of evil, one cannot grasp or understand. Yet, it happens every single day. 

Facebook is full of pictures of God’s creatures that are lost, abandoned or misplaced and it breaks my heart. Erath County, like every city and county in Texas is on overload with lost and abandoned animals. 

Our shelters are full and here in Stephenville, our shelter is a “no kill” facility. The people who work there go far beyond the call of duty when it comes to finding homes and reuniting “fur balls” with their families or finding them new homes.

I cannot help but wonder how people can be so desperate to think their pets would be better off trying to make it to someone's doorstep.  I've held them as they lay dying of starvation and dehydration.  I've held them as they struggled to breath between gasps of blood seeping from ruptured lungs after a car has run them over.  I've held them as their eyes bulged due to swelling from snake bite and I've buried them when they didn't make it.  

I praise for those angels of mercy who gather them up, spend the money they don't have and take them in to heal their pain.  I have 11 now and, if only the little fur ball on my bed could talk. She could tell me her story and I would march to that person's house and show them the suffering they have caused in a merciless and cruel way.  Unfortunately, they don’t care, and if they do, they have a poor way of showing it. 

Of course, we all have a cross to bear and, of course, we all have extenuating circumstances, but it isn't her (their) fault.  Scripture says, "Love as I have loved!"  If you have not love and compassion you have nothing.  If you can’t keep them love enough to hand them back to God in one whole and complete piece. That is the humane thing to do!

The little brown fur ball on my bed whimpers again and her dreams are nightmares of abandonment.  If only she could talk, she would tell you she doesn't expect much; a pat on the head, a warm bed, enough food for the day and a place to play and be devoted to you.  Just a minute of your time will suffice.

Melinda Clements is an E-T community columnist. She can be reached at