From Hate to Testimony: Healing Abused Dogs and Finding God

Some say dog grooming is glamorous. Ha! Try picking dog hair slivers out of your nipples at 18. Twenty-six years later, I've got carpal tunnel, a wonky back, hands that look like they belong to a seventy-year-old, and scars on my face that tell stories most people wouldn't believe. It started humbly, squeezing anal glands at Petsmart in '97 while juggling motherhood and school.

I connected with animals. Ranch roots, and a dash of gypsy blood – it was in my DNA. Soon, I was Petsmart's top earner. I pushed teeth brushing, created pamphlets, educated owners. Turns out, prolonging a pet's life was lucrative. The CEO noticed and flew into my store from the corporate store in Phoenix, Arizona. He wanted to talk to me about how Petsmart can include my teeth brushing passion into the corporate grooming model. Then, he sent me to grooming school with a real master for 6 months. My manager, Whitney, the viper who delighted in ruining my schedule so I’d miss my son’s first steps, did give me one piece of solid advice: “Master a trade. Take your tools, and you can make money anywhere.”

Little did I know, God was orchestrating this. Not only did he change the course of pet teeth care in America but he changed the course of my life. I didn’t see it. I was too busy hating God, drowning in single-mom stress, daddy issues, and a thick, black depression. Jesus? He was cool. But God? He felt like another abusive figure in my life. Jesus pleaded with me to pray to his father. I wanted to connect, but the trauma was a wall.

I became known for taking the "un-groomable." The aggressive, traumatized, abused dogs no one else would touch. The ones needing forever homes, but couldn’t be touched. I embraced them, scars and all. I remember countless times, down in the trenches of a snarling Shepard's paw, cleaning between infected toes, in complete vulnerability. The dog could snap my skull in half. But they rarely did. They'd fight, pull away, but I stood my ground, the Alpha. And then, the moment. The precise moment they exhaled, their body melting, anxiety dripping away. Their paw would go limp in my hand, a blind act of trust. That's when I knew.

That’s when my connection with God started.

These were the animals that came in broken. Matted, sores festering under matted fur, terror blazing in their eyes. They’d bite, snarl, refuse to be touched. It fueled a deep, almost unbearable rage against humanity. I hated what people did to these little fur babies. Hours later, after battles of patience, soft words, love poured into every stroke, a miracle! They'd catch their reflection, a flicker of a smile in their eyes. They’d strut, sassy and renewed. They knew they were loved.

People always asked, "Why dog grooming? The poop, the glands, the backache?" I’d just say, "Spell 'dog' backwards." It made even the staunchest atheist pause.

In those silent grooming hours, I contemplated. Witnessed daily miracles in His creations. Saw their thoughts, emotions, memories. He created it before us. Why?

I don’t have the answers. I can barely fathom the mind that sees the center of an atom. I’m still in 1080p, while He's in freakin' 8K. But I see His hand in my life. Single mom needing a job becomes a life of service. He dragged me, kicking and screaming, to what I’d learned as a child in church – living like Christ. Jesus was known for what? Service.

And what did Jesus do? He worked with his hands. He was a carpenter. I laugh. Anal glands led me to living a Christ-like life. Through it all, I edged closer to Jesus’s Father, my Father in Heaven. The silent moments, the personality shifts in five hours, the recognition years later – God is real. He created everything, even the animals. This was His plan. I saved animals, but He was saving me.

Now, I see it. We connect with God through loving His creatures. "The righteous care for the needs of their animals, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel," Proverbs 12:10. This isn't just about being kind to animals. It's about recognizing the divine spark within them, reflecting God's own love and compassion.

Through the sacrifices I made, the wounds I endured, I finally understand that true testimony isn't about grand pronouncements. It's about the quiet moments of grace, found in a dog's trusting gaze, a silent prayer, and a heart overflowing with love for the vulnerable. It's about seeing God in the eyes of an animal, and knowing, beyond any doubt, that He is always there, guiding us towards His light, one paw at a time.

AUTHOR: Sarah Lester

LOCATION: United States