Must Love Dogs!

“Everyone thinks they have the best dog and none of them are wrong.”  W. R. Purche

  Okay, don’t hate me, but I don’t like dog movies. They always have sad endings. I think I’m allergic. When I watch one, my eyes can water.

  As a child, one of the first movies I remember my Mom taking us to see was Old Yeller. What a great movie...and I don’t ever want to see it again. It was wonderful tale of a boy and his dog; it was just so sad.

  Over the course of my life, I’ve had several dogs. Jane is wonderful in that she knows that I love dogs and wouldn’t want to live without one. And   I’m a big dog person. Some folk love a “pocket dog.” Not me, I want a dog that when he comes in the room, everyone knows he’s there. I’ve hardly ever met a dog that I didn’t like. I even carry dog bones in my car. I learned that from my brother Mike, who was also a dog person. After Mike passed away, his wife told me she kept finding dog bones in all his jacket pockets.

  The first dog that I remember was Blackie (we weren’t real creative with names). Blackie was solid black. We weren’t sure where he came from. He just wandered up one day and adopted us. Blackie was some type of German shepherd mix. He was very smart and he loved us. When the bus brought us home from school, we had a couple of drivers who’d even let him on the bus. He’d saunter down the aisle, give everyone a kiss, and then get off. What I remember the most about Blackie is that he was protective. If he felt that someone was a threat to one of us, he made sure that person knew they weren’t to mess with us. If another aggressive dog came toward us, Blackie risked his own life to protect us. I’ve had brothers and sisters in the Lord like that. Your reputation, your name are always safe with them. By God’s grace, I want to be protective of my brothers and sisters, too.

  The first dog Jane and I ever owned after we were married was Molly and she broke our hearts. She was so sweet and so much fun. Jane and I were in terrible ministry situation. (You know it’s a bad ministry when you cry together in your living room the first Sunday.) Molly was a bright spot, bringing lots of joy. But Molly couldn’t avoid temptation. One warm day something across the road attracted her attention. She hit the screen door just right, popping it open. Jane and I screamed at the top of our lungs, as she darted across a highway. A utility truck struck her. I can still see her body flying through the air. Over my years of ministry, I’ve met Christians like Molly. They don’t see the danger, though others are screaming warnings, they race headlong into the highway of temptation.

  But if you lose a dog, wait a little bit before you get another one. Jane and I were so brokenhearted at losing Molly, we looked in the paper that day, found someone with a litter of puppies and picked up Sherlock. He was a Heinz 57 medium sized dog and was one of most annoying dogs I’ve ever owned. Jane called him sassy. She’d scold him and he’d bark back at her. If he got off his chain, it took hours to find him. All of us know Christians like that. They’re edgy. They push it. If someone tries to gently correct them, they let you know that they don’t like it and aren’t going to take it. 

  Even though she’s been gone a few years now, I think our whole family would agree that Dakota was our favorite. She was a big golden retriever, one huge ball of yellow fluff. Aaron was about 10 when we got her. He’d wrestle with her, lay on her, torture her but she loved it. If you threw a ball for her, you quit long before she ever did. On one occasion we were at a lake and her tennis ball sunk to the bottom. If I hadn’t called her away, I think she’d have drowned herself diving for it. She was one of the kindest dogs I’ve ever owned. It took a long time to get over Dakota’s passing. When we had to finally put her down, Dr. Molitor saw the heartbreak in our eyes and nudged us out the door. Dakota was so kind. There aren’t enough kind people in this world. Worse, there aren’t enough kind Christians. Everybody loved Dakota. I wonder if more people would want our Savior if they saw His kindness in us.

  Then there’s Ernie, our chocolate lab. Ernie is a rescue dog. We actually had to have a home inspection before they’d “place” Ernie in our home. His foster parent said, “Ernie thinks he’s a rock star” and he does. He bothered me a bit when we first got him home. He was aloof, like we were fortunate to be allowed in his royal presence. If Ernie rides in the car, he doesn’t lay on the seat. He sits up like royalty, viewing his kingdom as his loyal subjects drive him down the road. Ernie doesn’t play with toys. That’s beneath him, unless it’s a Kong with food inside. But he’s my dog. He’s there waiting when I walk in the door. It probably helps that I give him a treat each time. Ernie thinks he’s the king of the house. While pride has no value, it’s so enticing. And Ernie still thinks he’s a rock star, though an aging one (Think Mick Jagger). Yet, Ernie is absolutely dependent on us. Apart from us, he’d have no food, water or exercise. We drive him to the vet and pay the tab. He’s totally a recipient of our grace, and so you and I are totally dependent on a gracious God, though we may not acknowledge Him. If it weren’t for His grace, we would be and have nothing. That doesn’t somehow keep us from pride and thinking we’re something.

  Then, there’s Harley, the latest addition. Harley was Jane’s idea in a moment of weakness. Her given name was Arlee. We drove to Michigan to retrieve her from a friend who felt it wasn’t fair she was cooped up in the house all day. Harley is the loud one. She’s cute. She’s a lover but she’s a barker. Someone walks down the street. Harley barks. A leaf blows. Harley barks. She makes a lot of noise but it’s rarely important. There are Christians like that. They make a lot of noise, continually barking about something but there’s not much substance to it. They just like to bark a lot.  

  I love dogs and but I love people more. I understand why dogs misbehave. It’s their nature. I don’t always understand when Christians do, or when I do – we have a new nature. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17).

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