THAT DOG MUST DIE!

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Our team was sent to Sululere, Lagos State, Nigeria, in 2015 while working as Missionary. We will live with several Christian families as part of our mission assignment, learning about their culture, psychology, cross-cultural connections, and emotional intelligence, all of which are important abilities in the mission field.

To shorten the story, I was assigned to be in charge of literature and books, as well as work as a logistics officer in the teens and youth department. I was given a room in a one-story building, which I learned was built in the 1940s, and the family was kind, hospitable, and friendly to our mission team members.

I made a visit to the balcony one day after returning from the mission office to get some fresh air, and what I saw left me speechless for several minutes, bewildered and frozen like a statue, you might be wondering what I saw? It was a dog tied to the balcony, but it wasn't just any dog; it was a skeleton to the point that you could count the dog's ribs, the flesh was like a clear water barrier, the eyes shooting out of the dry skull, and the look of the dog was terrifying.

I noticed an empty bowl, empty and dry, likewise pleading for food, with no bones and no sign of food.

When the dog spotted me, it was sucked out and, like a fading light about to go out, I was confused as to why the dog's owner would treat it so cruelly and use malnutrition as a weapon.

My curiosity led me to approach the dog's owner, who was staying in a nearby room. I remained calm and politely inquired,

Sir, it appears there is a dying dog on the balcony,

Hmmmmm, that dog must die,
he replied,

throwing his face to the North Pole.

But why Sir, Why must the dog die, the dog is starving Sir,

Let it starve to death then,

I was startled and perplexed at how he could say that about his dog; I'm sure he would have been charged with animal abuse in several Western countries.

The dog was like a traveller, wasting away and dying slowly in the hole of evil and harsh treatment. My conscience swung to the right when I saw the dog the next day.

I can see the dog's eyes, hanging in that dry skull, begging for action, and I can see the empty bowl, piercing my heart with a question: why?
I can see the chains that were used to enslave this unfortunate creature.

All of this occurred to me, but then I remembered the dog owner's warning, which stated that the dog must die. Whenever I go to sleep, those words ring in my head,

that dog must die.

Of course, it would die, I said; perhaps that is the fate of the dog.

I heard a voice, even fate can be changed by faith and acts, even a death sentence can be modified, you can do something even when it appears you don't have to!

The next morning, I concluded that perhaps God was teaching me a lesson via this physical interaction with this dying dog, so I sneaked out and took some food and put it on the dog's plate; however, as I was pouring the food, I noticed that the dog did not move or rush it, as I had expected.

I assume the dog couldn't believe it because it hadn't seen such love in days, but as I stepped back to see the dog's emotions, it raced the food and within minutes the dish was back to normal, thoroughly and painstakingly wiped through, and the dog shook his tail, which I took as a thank you.

I continued feeding the dog in secret, hoping not to be caught by the dog's owner, who would blacklist me if he found out, but I continued until I was almost discovered, at which point the dog owner became enraged and warned me to stay away from his dog.

Sir, it is true that the dying dog is yours, but it is also true that hunger is not a property right of anybody, and we should express love...!!! I exclaimed, afraid at first.