An old man had to say goodbye to his dog because he couldnt afford to save him.
Tears streamed down the mans wrinkled face as he stood in the vets office, clutching his trembling companion. The air was thick with griefthe dogs labored breaths, the muffled sobs. The vet, Oliver Whitmore, had seen this sorrow before, but this time, it felt different.
Three days earlier, the old manThomas Hargreaveshad brought in his nine-year-old mongrel, Winston. The dog hadnt stood in days, and Thomas, with no one else left in the world, was desperate. Oliver examined Winston and found a severe infection, one that needed costly treatment. If you cant pay, Oliver had said briskly, euthanasia would be kinder.
Thomas had emptied his pocketscrumpled notes and loose changethen carried Winston away. Now he was back, eyes downcast. Forgive me, Doctor, he whispered. Ive only scraped together enough for the end.
As the old man begged for five more minutes, Olivers throat tightened. Why was the world so cruel? The wealthy treated life carelessly, while this broken man and his dying dog overflowed with love.
Oliver placed a hand on Thomass shoulder. Ill treat him, he said hoarsely. At my own expense. Winstons not done yethell run again. Beneath his fingers, the old mans silent sobs shook like leaves in the wind.
A week later, Winston stood steady on his paws. The IVs, the careit had worked. Oliver felt a quiet joy. A small act, perhaps, for a heartbroken man and his scruffy mutt, but in truth, it was something far greater.
Thank heavens for kindness in this world.
