Some things fill your heart without trying
It was obvious, he was broken. He lay curled up on the sidewalk, safe within his metal cage never raising his head. The sounds of shuffling feet, nearby barks and ‘ohhs’ and ‘ahhs’ didn’t concern him. For a pit bull/boxer mix, being still was an oddity.
My daughter Mari dragged me through Pet Smart’s parking lot as if it were a matter of life and death. “He’s the one,” she said literally out of breath as she pointed to the mass curled up in front of me. “His name is Silas.”
My first thoughts, “That’s a pit bull and no.” His thighs were the size of pork loins; his jaws, appeared stronger than a vice.
At that time, I guessed he weighed about 60 pounds. His unique brindle coloring made him desirable; his breed did not. What little history they knew of him, the adoption center disclosed. Silas had been found wandering in the mountains of North Georgia, injured and terrified. The organization that had found him stitched up his hind quarter and Silas found himself in the community of beautiful animals that no one loved.
It took a little over an hour for my children to convince me that he was just what we needed. You see, we were a lot like Silas. Broken. Scared. Injured. How in the world would we feed another when we could barely feed ourselves? Mari, Logan and Ty promised (as all kids do) that they would care for him, feed him, bathe him and play with him. All I had to do was say, “Yes.”
The whining and begging continued until I caved. I found myself mama to three children and one pit bull. I must confess, he was a beauty. And strong, too. He dragged us up one aisle in Pet Smart and down the other as we searched for dog food to feed the beast. He towed all four of us at one time, and man, did my children laugh. Come to think of it, it was the first time in a long time where joy invaded all of them at the same time. Silas must have been magic.
That was almost twenty years ago. The kids have all gone their own ways, but when they come to visit, Silas gets the first hug. His beautiful brown brindled coloring is mingled with gray and he has blossomed to about 80 pounds. He’s still quite a chunk, and his strong legs and massive mouth still give the FEDEX man a reason to pause; if not for the chain fence, I’d never receive any packages.
I can’t quite explain what Silas did for our family but I could feel it. He became the glue that held us together. And even when he gnawed my expensive leather boots into slivers, I couldn’t get mad at that face.
Most people say we rescued a dog. We like to think Silas rescued us.
