A Testimony of God Healing My Dogs
In 2020, I experienced a miracle that strengthened my faith and reminded me that God cares about every detail of our lives—even our beloved pets.
One afternoon, I was home when I heard my dogs barking. At first, I thought they were just barking at the neighbors, as my larger dog had always been territorial. I didn’t think much of it until my small dog came inside and lay down in front of the kitchen counter, panting heavily. This was unusual for him—normally, if I called him to come with me, he would jump up immediately, eager to follow. But this time, he wouldn’t budge.
I started to feel uneasy. Something was wrong.
I rushed outside and saw that my big dog was not at the fence as I had assumed, but deep in the grassy, bushy area of our smallholding. She was barking relentlessly. As I sprinted toward her, calling her name, she turned to run toward me. When she got close, my heart dropped—her face was swollen, and she was bleeding. I immediately suspected a snake bite, as we had found snakes on our property before.
Panicked, I ran back to the house, shouting for my mom. “Mom! Help!” She ran outside, and all I could say was, “Snake!” Meanwhile, our gardener must have heard the commotion and came to assist. I told him to pick up the big dog and put her in the bakkie while my mom carried the small one. I grabbed my car keys, and we sped off, desperately trying to find an open vet.
It was late afternoon, and most of the vets were closed—I almost think it was a Saturday. I quickly asked on our community group where to go, and someone recommended the animal hospital. When we arrived, we realized we had forgotten the dogs’ leashes in the chaos. My mom used her jacket as a makeshift leash for the big dog, while I carried the small one, blood dripping from his foot onto my hands. As we walked in, a man leaving with his dog made a remark about our dogs not being on a leash, but in that moment, I couldn’t care less. My focus was on saving their lives.
As I approached the reception desk, I could barely speak, but my face and the state of my dogs said it all. “Snake bite,” I managed to say. The staff was incredible—they immediately sprang into action, weighing the dogs quickly and taking them to the back. I kept apologizing for the blood on the floor, but they were so kind and understanding.
A doctor came out and gave me the news I dreaded: the smaller dog might need his leg amputated, and even with that, he might not survive. My heart shattered. I told them to administer the antivenom but not to amputate his leg. He was an active little dog—always running, digging, and chasing bugs. I couldn’t bear the thought of him suffering just because I didn’t want to let him go. Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with God.
In the waiting room, my mom and I prayed. We prayed and prayed.
Later, they allowed me to see my dogs. The big one’s face was so swollen that her eyes couldn’t open. The small one was unresponsive. They told me their chances of survival were slim—it was a puff adder bite, one of the most venomous snakes in our country.
That night, I went home, crying and praying, crying and praying.
The next afternoon, the hospital called. They suggested I take the big one home because she refused to eat or go to the loo. They hoped being with me would help her recover. I rushed to the hospital, but before taking her home, I went to see the small one. He still wasn’t doing well, and they weren’t sure if his leg would make it. Seeing him lying there, weak and lifeless, broke me.
When I reached the big dog, she couldn’t see me because her eyes were still swollen shut. But as soon as I softly said, “Hello, my baby,” she walked straight to me, pressing her head against my legs. I took her home, and as soon as we arrived, she got out of the car, went to the loo, ate, and then curled up to sleep. In that moment, I knew she was going to be okay. I thanked God for His mercy.
The small one was still a waiting game. Five days later, on a Sunday, the hospital called: “You can come fetch him. He’s going to be okay!” I rushed to the hospital, my heart racing with gratitude. They warned me that the muscles in his leg might not work properly and that he could limp for the rest of his life, but miraculously, they didn’t need to amputate it.
At the time, I was not financially well off, and the vet bill was steep. My whole life, I never understood how people could spend so much on vet bills—until that moment. But despite my financial situation, I somehow made it through the month. There were times when my bank account ended with only 2 cents in the positive, and I couldn’t explain how. The math didn’t make sense, but God’s math is different. He provided in ways I still can’t comprehend.
What is the point of this testimony?
God cares about what we care about. The Bible says to “preach the gospel to all creation” (Mark 16:15-16). This includes animals. I prayed over my dogs, and God healed them, beyond what the doctors expected.
God is our provider. Even when I had no idea how I would afford the vet bill, He made a way. He promises to provide for our needs (Philippians 4:19), and He did just that.
Nothing is impossible for God. The situation seemed hopeless—the vet said survival was slim, the financial burden was overwhelming—but God turned it all around. “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26).
Today, five years later, my dogs are still happy and healthy. The small one never regrew hair on the patch where he was bitten, but that is just a reminder of God’s faithfulness. He hears our prayers, He cares about the things that burden our hearts, and He is always at work—even in the lives of our pets.
Nothing is impossible for Him!
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