A Girl and her Dog

Driving through Denver on our way to a movie screening, Barry and I saw a young woman cross the street with her small, black dog. Her clothes hung off of her tall, skinny frame. She held a cardboard sign that read: "Need dog food. Anything helps." I sat at the stop light watching this woman and her little dog scurry up capital hill, wondering how they ended up this way. Did she have family? Had she been kicked out or abandoned? Was this dog her only friend, the only thing in the world she had left to hang onto?

The light turned green and I cut across traffic to turn in her direction. I told Barry I wanted to help her. We drove around the corner and saw her walking up the street. I pulled over, rolled down my window and Barry handed her a bill. She looked at us and thanked us profusely. I think I said I had a little dog. I think Barry said God bless you. As we drove away I saw her look up to the sky and say "Thank God."

I don't know why I felt compelled to give something to this particular girl. I see homeless people all the time. But maybe this girl needed it the most. Maybe she was on the verge of complete hoplessness. But there was something about her and her tiny pup. We're all only a few bad circumstances away from being that girl. But for the grace of God go I.

My only regret is that I didn't ask for her name.