SEEING WITH COLOR-BLIND HEARTS

      Recently, as I was walking our white poodle (with a touch of apricot) down the street, I encountered a black couple who were waiting for their child's school bus to arrive. The father asked, "What kind of a dog is that?"... and I told him that it was a poodle. Since he appeared to be surprised by my answer, I went on to explain that she definitely is a poodle, but we don't get her trimmed "like a poodle." "Just wondering," the man noted, "because my sister has a terrier who looks something like your dog." Nice couple, I thought, as Buffy and I walked along.
      It's nice to live in a diverse neighborhood, I thought, and then for reasons that only God would know, I thought about the diversity of dogs I had owned. London was grey/blue and Rocky was brown and black. I loved them both, but not nearly as much as I loved Nikki. Nikki was a medium/large dog whom we rescued from a woman who kept her caged in her garage. She was strong, bold, energetic, and coal-black. Even her tongue was black. She had never been socialized to other dogs and she was suspicious of new people too... but she became my very best friend when we lived in Michigan. Day after day, we would walk in the woods that were everywhere around, and we formed a deep bond. Early on, she would run away...if she had a chance, and I would chase her for blocks, sometimes through knee-deep snow. Once, when I was walking her without a leash, she began to run in circles that seemed a half-mile wide, and she would not respond to my calls. So, I went home without her, exhausted... and hoped that she knew where she lived. Fortunately, she did and it wasn't long before we heard her scratching at our back door.
     Nikki went to Peoria with us... and then to Rock Island. Every day, we would walk through our neighborhoods and bond with each other... until the day came when she had trouble walking because her hips were giving out. In the end, they did give out... and the three of us- Nikki, Sherry, and me- gathered at the vet's office to "put her down." Oh, how I wanted to just go back home, but we didn't and when the vet gave her her last shot... I looked into her eyes... and cried like a baby (even as I am about to do now). I loved our black dog with a love that was deep and unconditional... and I never once thought of her as a BLACK dog. Now, I am giving my love to our white poodle... without ever thinking of her as a WHITE dog. My eyes see that one was black and the other was white. I was not color-blind in that sense... but my heart was color-blind... and it would've been absurd to think of color as anything more than part of the dog whom I loved.
      No one whom I know personally... gives the color of their dogs much thought and it would be absurd if they did. Why then is it so difficult to love other people with color-blind hearts? Why do we let something that is so unimportant keep us apart? Some people are black and some are white, some are tall and some are short, some are straight and some are gay. They come in many shapes and colors, but each one of them is a treasure... who should be loved for the joy that they give and seek. Why can't we see that?