To compassionate souls, the sight of skinny, ownerless dogs out in the street or in the back of a dogcatcher's truck, is heartbreaking. Few things can be as troubling, as the thought of stray animals in the world that have no home or attention whatsoever. Even with pets that are well provided for, their owners experience much grief and distress when they are sick or in pain. Perhaps this is so, because animals can't talk or adequately express their thoughts or feelings, and are totally dependent of their masters. I have the distinction of having seven dogs in my house. Recently, my wife and I had the opportunity to reintroduce ourselves to a neighbor who lives one street down from us. When I told the man where we lived, he said: "Oh, the house with the dogs?" I suppose a few who pass by may think, "Boy, that family must really love dogs!" Well, I guess we do but there's more to the story than that. You see, except for the two small dogs that live inside, we didn't choose any of the others. I don't want you to think that one day I told my wife: "You know, I would really like to have seven dogs." Never in  a hundred years would I have thought that one day we would have our own kennel. How did this happen? Our first and oldest dog, Bevo, was left with us when my son and his wife moved out to an apartment. The second one, Mikey, was pushed on us with the guarantee that his being part German Shepherd, would make him an invaluable guard dog. Sometimes, I think I look more like a German Shepherd than Mikey. This reminds me: Did I ever tell you of the man who was given a life sentence for killing a German shepherd? No, it wasn't a dog; it was a real German shepherd. Okay, okay, I'll get back to the story. Our third dog, Blackita really adopted us after I began giving her a few tidbits. Where she came from I don't know. Maybe she came from Mars or more likely, the Lord sent her to us. Either way, someone had apparently abandoned her, for when I took her in I asked all around and no one ever claimed her. Our fourth dog, Wawito, is Blackita's only surviving son. Did I say that when we took Blackita in, we didn't know she was pregnant? Finally, our fifth outside dog is Arnie. Arnie was very much like Blackita and adopted us as well. Unlike Blackita, Arnie continued to jump into our yard. At first, we were convinced Arnie was Wawito's wayward dad. We were totally shocked on the day we noticed Arnie was pregnant. The name was already given, so I keep calling her that. It can be short for Arnulfa, can't it? By the way, except for Bevo, all the four dogs in the backyard are black. Most will say that our four backyard dogs are not much to look at, but the point I am trying to make is that they are not really poor because somebody loves and cares for them. Next time you see a poor critter, remember this: It may seem otherwise, but all of God's creatures are loved by Him. Why wouldn't He? You too would love anything you created. To love is part of God's nature. Not only does He love, He is love! It gives comfort to know that God's loving eye is upon his critters.