At midnight on Christmas Eve, we went to the stable by starlight, with only the sound of our boots squeaking as we crossed the snow. We paused a moment to light the lantern before we slipped through the door. We had come to see the animals kneel in reverence for the birth of the Christ child. The horses had heard us and were waiting for the Christmas treats which always came with this visit. We didn’t really expect to see them kneeling, but we loved the story, the magic of the possibility, that had been a part of our Christmas memories for many years.
There is nothing like a starry, starry night in the Montana Rockies. So many stars, so close, just overhead. It was a blessed time, and all the more so for being shared with innocent and beloved animals. We’ve come a long way since then, and much has been lost, but the animals remain in our hearts.
On Saturday, December 15, the Newberry County shelter held its annual open house and Christmas party for the animals, the innocent, abused, broken, fearful, companion animals found as strays, surrendered by their owners, or seized by animal control from cruel situations. Many people came with donations and walked the aisles in the kennel with kind words for the dogs. The kittens in their play room were mostly happy and oblivious, and the less happy adult cats were watching without expectations.
Four dogs and four cats were adopted, one dog and one cat were fostered, by people who wanted to give them the homes they deserve. Two of the dogs were returned on Monday, one with a chicken fault, one that was not a good fit for an invalid. Sadly, another one was lost without her tags in the Stoney Hill community near Prosperity.
I am haunted by the dogs at the shelter, and I urge you to visit the shelter more often to speak to them, to walk with them along the road or in the woods, or sit in the sun with them in the yard which the Humane Society built for just that purpose. How amazing that these ordinary, homeless dogs are members of the only species on earth that is generally capable of unconditional love, an endless capacity for forgiveness, and loyalty beyond all measure.
These dogs and millions of other dogs like them are the only beings, other than saints, that succeed in following the teachings of Christ. They heal the sick, and lead the blind, and recover those who are lost. They love the unlovable, and rescue those who are sick in heart and mind. And like Christ, and the saints, they are often unloved, abused, and destroyed by the very people who should love them most.
Many dogs are considered by some observers to be no less than guardian angels. Imagine then how it can be that millions of them are killed, and not always humanely, in shelters each year, or chained in back yards and frozen to the ground, or starved in cages in basements, or mutilated and burned by teenagers, or shot with guns and arrows by would-be hunters. What’s wrong here is what’s wrong with people.
Years ago, I attended a poetry reading by New England poet and farmer Maxine Kumin which opened with the first line of a new poem: “My dog has my father’s eyes,” she read. The idea and the expression were so succinct, so telling, and so exactly right that I’ve never forgotten it. I was an English professor, and I have taught many, many poems which I remember not at all, but that one line comes back to me every time I make eye contact with a dog. Be warned if you’re thinking of trying that at the shelter. It’s a perilous action that can break your heart, if you have to walk away.
At midnight, this Christmas Eve, we all might kneel in reverence, alongside the animals, for the unconditional love and forgiveness that came to us in the spirit of Christ. That spirit, and the love it carries, cannot be taken out of Christmas, or distorted by organized religion. Only when we are finally divorced from that ability to love and forgive, when we are no longer capable of compassion, when kindness is no longer possible, then and only then have we taken Christ out of Christmas.
