2. On the Neighbor’s Dogs

Two dogs—both medium sized mutts of indistinct breed—live in a cage behind the house a couple backyards over.  They are too far away for me to read the expressions on their faces when Morgan and I play ball in our spacious fenced backyard, but they sit on the roofs of their homes inside their kennel and stare our direction.  Sometimes they bark.

I’ve never seen anyone take them on a walk. I’ve never seen anyone throw them a ball.

I’ve only ever seen them in that kennel. 

I don’t understand why anyone would want to keep a dog—never mind two dogs—penned up 24-7 in the far reaches of their backyard.  The dogs apparently are not starving, for they have been there well over a year now.  But surely they must be depressed.  All that open space, so many smells, so many free creatures roaming the woods and trees and yards just outside their pen, yet there they sit.

When all creation is one day redeemed and made new, I have a strong suspicion that those two dogs will be there, too, and that there will be no more cages, and that they will run free, and not grow weary.  

My prayer is that I would be as heartbroken for my caged human neighbors, whose lives must be no less tragic.