I wish people would realize that animals are totally dependent

Hear, O children of compassion and guardianship, the words of James Herriot, the healer of beasts and lover of the humble creatures of the earth: “I wish people would realize that animals are totally dependent on us, helpless, like children, a trust that is put upon us.” These words rise like a call to conscience, reminding us that in our dominion over the creatures of field and home, we are not tyrants but stewards. The animal, unable to speak its need, unable to defend its life in the ways men and women can, has been placed into our hands as a sacred trust.

The meaning is clear: just as a child relies on the care of its parents, so too do animals rely upon humanity. They do not plow the fields for themselves, nor cook their food, nor heal their wounds with medicine. They are at our mercy, and their well-being reflects the measure of our humanity. To forget this is to betray a covenant older than written law, a covenant whispered at the dawn of creation when humankind was given the care of the earth and all its creatures.

Consider the story of Saint Francis of Assisi, who preached not only to men but to birds, and who tamed the wolf of Gubbio not with chains, but with kindness. He understood what Herriot declares—that the beasts of the earth look to us, and that how we treat them reveals the state of our souls. The people feared the wolf, but Francis saw its hunger and its helplessness. By feeding it and protecting it, he turned a terror into a friend. In that story lies the eternal truth: to care for the helpless is to honor the sacred trust placed upon us.

Herriot himself lived this truth in the quiet hills of Yorkshire, tending to farm animals and pets alike. He saw cows groaning in labor, dogs trembling with fever, and horses wounded by toil. His life was a daily reminder that the helpless depend on us not for luxury, but for survival. He saw in every creature a childlike vulnerability, and in every farmer or pet owner a responsibility. His words are not a poet’s fancy, but the testimony of a man who touched suffering with his own hands.

The deeper wisdom of his saying is this: trust is not only given by people; it is given by animals, too. The dog who lays its head upon your knee, the cat who curls in your lap, the horse who lets you guide its reins—all of these have surrendered their safety into your keeping. They could live wild, in hunger and in fear, but they have chosen instead to live with us. That choice demands our honor. To neglect it is not merely unkindness—it is betrayal.

The lesson, then, is one of stewardship. If animals are as children, then we must be as parents—gentle, patient, and protective. We must feed them, heal them, and treat them with respect. Cruelty to animals, like cruelty to children, is an act that blackens the soul. But compassion shown to them nourishes not only their lives but ours, making us more truly human.

Practically, this means treating every creature in your care with tenderness. Provide food not as charity, but as duty. Offer affection not as indulgence, but as justice. Support the protection of wild creatures and the ethical treatment of farm animals, for the covenant extends beyond the home into the fields and forests. And above all, remember that the power given to you over them is not license but responsibility.

So, O listeners, take to heart Herriot’s plea: animals are totally dependent on us, helpless, like children, a trust that is put upon us. Do not despise that trust, nor neglect it, but embrace it as sacred. For in how we treat the voiceless, the helpless, and the dependent, the true measure of our humanity is revealed. Let your care be constant, your heart be kind, and your stewardship be worthy of the sacred bond between humankind and the creatures who share our world.

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