Midnight, alone.

Tonight, like who knows how many nights before this one, there is a hungry, neglected dog in an Indiana backyard, tied up with a child's jump rope, without food, or water, without a warm bed, a friendly pat on the head, without love. A smallish black pit mix, the rescue group trying to save her is calling her "Midnight." I'm guessing her "family" hasn't even given her the honor of a name themselves.

As the rescue group wrestles with the legalities of how to rescue Midnight, I wonder - how do the people in that house sleep at night? There is a dog suffering only feet from their beds. She has fleas, gnats swarming, fur falling out...a hematoma in one ear...broken teeth from chewing on who knows what (a fence to try to escape? rocks because she was starving?). The people in the house "want her gone by this weekend." The rescuer said the family has several small children.

I look at my dogs curled up warm and snug, tummies full of water and kibble, and cry to think that any dog suffers like Midnight. I look at my 4-year old son curled up warm and snug, tummy full of last night's dinner, and cringe to think that any family could teach their children to disrespect animals in such a profoundly cruel way.

I can't get Midnight out of my thoughts. I hope she knows there are souls out there caring about her tonight.