The Love Remains

Christy Doherty

50plus Magazine

 

Almost a decade ago, during a harsh Michigan winter, a little street cat limped

across Russell Benney’s property in search of food. Hobbling through the snow, she paused to rest in a scant windbreak between an old shed and the neighbors’ house.

 

Life was brutal for the wary little cat. To most people, she was invisible. But Russell saw her and wanted to help. It took time, and ultimately it was a desperate grab that changed the kitty’s life. “And the rest is history,” says Russell with affection.

 

“Little One” thrived in the great indoors, residing with other rescue “siblings” and her beloved rescuer. One year slipped easily into the next.

 

Then an email arrived, requesting prayer for Little One. Russell said she would undergo a dental the next morning to examine troubling symptoms.

 

Little One’s latest cute pic arrived that evening. Then another message the following morning: Little One hadn’t made it.

 

Stunned, my first thought was a sedation reaction — a risk for pets and people alike. But no. Little One’s dental simply revealed the cruel truth. Instead of loose or infected teeth, the vet found multiple inoperable throat tumors. Her changed voice, weight loss, and trouble swallowing now made sense. The hardest (but kindest) decision released Little One from pain.

 

In the vacuum of that news, my heart whispered, “The love remains.”

 

John Greenleaf Whittier once said, “Beauty seen is never lost.” Love likewise makes its own indelible mark.

 

Time may not heal all things, but with its passage, sweet memories edge into the hollow

place of loss — like plants slowly reclaiming a once fire-ravaged forest. And. . . the love remains.

 

By loving deeply, we become vulnerable. As CS Lewis once said, “The pain then is part of the joy now.”

 

Is it worth it? To me, absolutely. The only way to avoid the pain is to forfeit the joy — which I believe creates far greater pain.

 

Some heart journeys are measured in years, others in mere days. Without question,

love fuels animal rescue, and rescue allows the discarded, the abused, and the suffering to experience compassion, comfort, safety — and the peace of simply mattering.

 

Maybe homeless pets have guardian angels of their own. Maybe hurting pets

actually ARE the angels — and we are the ones in need. I know I was. A footsore Border Collie once saved my life — that furry angel with doggy breath, limping and bleeding, arrived just in time.

 

Their pawprints circle the world, feather-soft on that broken road paved with

hope for a forever home. Rescue for them is built brick by brick from love and caring in

action — those who step up to carry a burden someone else created, whether by abuse, neglect, or abandonment — for the sake of an innocent soul.

 

The object of those practical, patient, functional acts of compassion is lifted up, and given worth. And slowly, the rescued learn that they matter, that they are safe, and belong.

 

Thank you, Russell Benney. Because of you, Little One knew love, and that she mattered.

 

And the love remains.