DIANNE’S DOGHOUSE
Back in 1999 my youngest daughter, Julie, attended Bowling Green State University, and pursued a career in special education. One of her classes required her to teach a class in an inner city setting. She soon became mesmerized by twelve ten-year old African American youngsters in inner city Toledo, Ohio. Well into the school year, Julie called and asked if I could bring my two Golden Retrievers to her classroom for some dog therapy.
The children, I was told, were reserved because of their dysfunctional childhood. They retained scars from early emotional wounds—wounds that may not puncture the skin but punctured the heart. Yet despite their reservations, Julie discovered these children to be playful and giggly. Because they were so street smart, they had learned to survive and be happy regardless of their circumstances.
One breezy, beautiful spring morning Jeff and Jesse climbed into my truck and off we drove to the “mission field.” The windows were down, the flowers permeated the air, the dog’s large ears flapped in the breeze, and we were excited!
Two hours later, we arrived at Julie’s classroom, where she met us in the hallway. Julie had prepared the children for our arrival, but no one could have prepared me for the scene that was about to happen.
As we entered the room, all twelve children screamed at the top of their lungs and plastered themselves against the far wall. The screaming continued, so Julie ushered us out and encouraged us to try again. She explained that the only dogs these children come in contact with, are starving, abused, mean dogs. This time she would keep the children on the far wall. Jesse, Jeff, and I would SLOWLY enter and sit in the middle of the room, and I would quietly say, “Let the children come to me.”
What a wise teacher! One by one they came, cautiously step by step. We talked about the dogs, their gentleness, and about how much they love children. The youngsters came closer. Within fifteen minutes all were snuggled close, enjoying the soft fur and puppy kisses.
All twelve children were now in a safe environment, and they knew it. They all needed healing from their horrendous backgrounds, but only God could take care of that. For now, we cherished the moment.
It amazed me how quickly their personalities changed. Fear vanished and we had a memorable afternoon. When it was time for us to leave, all the children cried and hung on to Jeff and Jesse. They wanted more wet kisses, more safety, and no fear.
God’s sweet affection for these children and for me, taught me not to fear, for a life lived in fear isn’t much fun!
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter