Charlie

A middle-aged man sat on the concrete path outside the supermarket and next to him was a blanket with a dog lying on it. A cardboard sign with handwritten words was propped up in front of the man, saying he was homeless, and the dog’s name was Charlie.

Charlie was of medium size, sporting a generous shiny white coat, and had patches of black and various browns decorating his face. As I approached, Charlie stood to greet me, his big brown eyes locked onto mine and they beamed with joy and friendliness. I patted him without hesitation, and he nuzzled into my hand.

“What can I get you?”, I asked the homeless man.

In contrast to Charlie, the man’s soft blue eyes were vague and distant. He replied quietly, “Some food for Charlie would be nice.”

So, I shopped for myself, Charlie, and the homeless man. I bought a bag of quality food for Charlie and some kangaroo chews. What to get for the homeless man? I thought it would have to be nutritious, and be able to keep, so I bought him a big bag of mixed nuts.

On the way out, I handed the goods to the man, and Charlie leapt up to greet me.

Again, our eyes met, and I could feel his gratitude.

Charlie had a sacred duty, and his joy came from fulfilling it. The man was lucky indeed.