September 2, 2005

White Dog and I watched continuing coverage of the hurricane's destruction in Mississippi.

The rescue boat approached a man and his dog sitting on the roof of a shed. "Praise God," the man sang out, "we are saved after four days!" He bundled his dog into his arms and leaned toward to boat but was stopped when the rescue worker told him he would have to leave the dog behind.

"There's no room for the dog, sir," he said kindly, "And there's no provisions for him at the shelter."

The man said he couldn't leave the dog behind; that it would not survive; that they were in this together. But the dog was not allowed onboard no matter how much the man pleaded.

Finally, the man knelt down on the roof and hugged his pet. Then he got into the boat like this was just too much too bear...a broken man. The boat pulled away as the dog paced back ona forth on the roof yipping to his master.

White Dog looked at the tears rolling down my cheeks and licked my hand. I buried my face in her soft fur and sobbed.

White Dog Diaries
September 2, 2005