Carmel, the puppy we rescued a year and a half ago from our old village, was struck and killed tonight by a car on the National Road in Haiti. He had grown into a wonderful family dog, and everyone knew him in the village. Everywhere I went, he went. Every morning he waited for me to open the gate and go out into the garden. He'd go bounding off, but he'd always return as we'd start devotions with the men. He'd find a spot under my legs and sit down. At dusk if I was still out in the field he would come and lay down next to me, watching me weed or spray the plants. He wasn't content until we were all buttoned up inside for the night.
My favorite memory of him was when we would sing and pray. We would get in a circle and start the singing, and he would come right to the center. The time would come to hold hands in prayer, and afterward we would turn our hands up for the blessing. He'd jump up and put his paws in our hands, just standing there on his two back feet, making sure he got some of that blessing.
He will be sorely missed, and I thank God for the little time we had.
Here was the story about him on our blog.http://imakeadreaminhaiti.blogspot.com/2012/11/carmel.html