Saying "Yes" just in time

 I tried to not be overprotective when my kids were younger, but it was a challenge. I found it easier to say ‘No,” instead of “Yes.” I had not found a need to change.

One summer day when Nathan was about 10 years old he asked if could go exploring in a ravine with some friends of his, brothers Matt & Chris.   The ravine lay beyond our pasture, and he had asked to go there before.  I had always said no. The reasons included too cold, too hot, too far, too late or just no. I looked across the field to the ravine, which was calling to them.

            “OK, but be careful. 

            “Thanks Dad.” 

            Forty-five minutes later the three adventurers returned to the barn excited and out of breath.    “Dad, I think we found an animal – a dog or something,” Nathan said. “It might be dead, but Chris thought he saw it move.”

            “I think I saw it blink,” Chris said. “It looks like there’s a wire tied around its neck.”

            I slipped on my mud boots and followed the boys through the pasture and over the fence. The plowed field was muddy, and I was glad I had my boots. I asked Nathan why he wasn’t wearing his.  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.

            “I think he was over here,” Chris said, pointing to the edge of the ravine.

            What I saw was only a mud covered log, but with another step it became a dog entangled in barbwire. I cautiously placed my hand near his mouth to test his reaction.  If he ever had any ferocious tendency, it was gone; he just licked my hand. His long floppy ears and the rest of him were caught in the barbs, and in his struggle to free himself, the wire had become wrapped around his neck and through his collar.          

As I tried to untangle this mess, I sent the boys back for a wire cutter.  Before they left, I was able take the collar off with some minor cuts to my hands. Attached to the collar was a tag with a vet’s name and number. I handed it to Nathan to give to his mother, Rhonda, so she could call the vet. 

            After the boys ran for the house, I worked to free the dog as the barbwire still held him prisoner in a death grip. The way the dog’s head lay he had been able to catch some rain water as it trickled down the ravine.

            The boys got back remarkably fast. After some agonizing, painful work the dog was free.  I stood him up to test his strength, but he immediately collapsed. I placed him around my neck as a shepherd would a lamb.

            As I started for the house the dog lifted his head for the first time.  It was a long trek through the mud and over the fence, but soon the happy parade of boys, man, and dog made it back to the farm. 

            Rhonda was waiting for us in the barn with water and food; I was glad to see that he was able to lap up some water. Other than his emaciated state and his cuts, he looked in pretty good shape.  The dog calmly lay in the hay and allowed us to clean and dry him.

“The vet wouldn’t give me the name of the owner,” Rhonda explained.  “But they told me they would pass on our name and address.  So I guess we’ll have to wait.”          

            Soon we had visitors.  The sun had set about half and hour earlier so the lights in the barn told the dog’s owners where to find us.  An elderly couple entered the barn and introduced themselves as the dog owners.  The dog let out a cry as soon as he heard them.  It wasn’t a cry of pain; he was happy to see them, and they him.  He had been missing for about two weeks from their home having traveled almost a mile.

            After that night I learned to look for reasons to say “Yes,” when asked because you never know when or where a need might lie.