It was a mystery why Harriet was limping. She winced with pain as she struggled to stand. After hopping a few feet on three legs she sat down and raised a hurt paw. For those who don’t know her, here’s some background.

Harriet is the blue heeler who somehow ended up at my mother’s childhood home in September of last year. As I pulled into the driveway that fall morning, the oddly-colored dog bounded down the porch steps and greeted me like a long-lost friend. 

My brother and I had begun renovating the vacant house in 2021. Jimmy wasn’t able to do much work, but he was good company. He’d scrape walls as I painted, then sit in a folding chair and jestfully point to areas needing attention. “You missed a spot,” he’d say with a grin.

JImmy’s health began a rapid decline in March of 2022. Hospital and rehab stays became routine. After his July death I resumed working on the house, but his absence left a void. Then Harriet came along and it became easier to count my blessings again.  

She didn’t have a collar and wasn’t chipped. Our vet said no one had reported a missing blue heeler. We didn’t know where she came from, but the longer she stayed the more I hoped it was a permanent arrangement. 

I read about the unique breed online and learned they’re used for rounding up cattle, sheep, and other livestock. Heeler refers to their instinct to nip at the heels of whatever they’re trying to corral. 

Without a herd to work, Harriet chased squirrels and even birds. She’d run a squirrel up a tree then track it from limb to limb. She probably chased deer too. That may be what brought her to our place. It may be why she sometimes ran so far she would get lost. 

Since she joined our family we’ve had a dozen or so reports of her ramblings. Her usual range was three to eight miles. A lot of nice people fed and sheltered her, and called my number when they found it on her collar. Some were so smitten they took her to McDonald’s.

Harriet came home without a collar twice in October. How she got them off was baffling. Now I’m thinking she had assistance. Georgia law addresses the shooting of a collared dog. I suspect hers were removed by a two-legged critter covering his tracks.   

There are differing views on whether dogs should be allowed to roam. I grew up in the country and favor giving them freedom in most circumstances. Others disagree and I respect their opinions, except for those who confine dogs to crates all day. That’s sad. Regardless of how you feel about such matters, surely most would agree that a gentle pet doesn’t deserve to be shot.

Dr. Baker and his staff gave her excellent care for over a week. It looked at first as if she might lose her left front leg, but it’s healing. I’m thankful the pellets near one eye didn’t affect her vision. I’m hoping we’ll both recover from wounded hearts.   

Granddaddy Hill had a neighbor who killed several of his cows a long time ago. My grandfather’s cattle were grazing in the man’s grain field. It didn’t cause any major problems between them which I’m aware of. As my friend Shannon Akin says, “There are at least two sides to every story.”

Maybe Harriet was chasing somebody’s cat, free-range chickens, or pet goat. Or maybe she ran a deer away from a hunter instead of toward him. She was probably trespassing as Harriet doesn’t understand property lines. But a BB would have sent her scampering.

Whoever blasted her with a shotgun probably doesn’t read my weekly column. So maybe others will pass a message along in hopes it might reach them: “If you shoot someone’s pet, you should be decent enough to explain your reason.” 

Most mornings I work on my grandmother’s house at 1956 Unadilla Highway. If you fired that gun, consider this an invitation to stop by. We may not have a pleasant conversation, but I won’t try to step on your toes or call you ugly names. I can’t, because Harriet keeps reminding me what Christ said about forgiveness. It’s not optional. 

It’s no longer a mystery why Harriet was limping. But I’d sure like to know why someone shot my dog.