Great Dog Stories (6 page)

Good ol’ Missy was always there. She wouldn’t be on the phone, playing computer games, working on a project, or in the middle of an addictive TV series. Missy was a 24/7 friend. She had amazing intuition and knew exactly how to minister to Erika. Sometimes they’d play. Other times they’d just sit on the grass and stare into space together. Missy would know exactly when to turn to Erika and give her a little lick on the cheek. It was magic. Erika’s gloom would lift and a smile would break through. The six-year-old in Erika would return and she’d blow on Missy’s nose, triggering Missy’s turbo lick response. Next thing you knew, Missy would be licking Erika’s face like an ice cream cone. It would have looked gross to an outside observer but it was pure joy for Erika and Missy.

Erika didn’t realize how important Missy was to her until she moved out to go to college. When Erika felt down, she couldn’t just pop into the backyard and let Missy lick away her blues. She couldn’t call Missy up and have a heart-to-heart. And since keypads aren’t exactly paw-friendly, forget texting. So for those college years, Erika and Missy had to wait for a school break or summer to be together. They went for walks or sat outside staring into other dimensions, just enjoying being in each other’s presence.

In between her junior and senior year, Erika decided to move to Los Angeles for the summer. She was a film major and wanted to explore the possibilities in the entertainment capital of the world. It was during this time that her parents called and told her Missy had cancer. Erika’s immediate thought was to go home and be there for her dear friend of 15 years. Erika could barely remember a time when Missy wasn’t in her life. They had literally grown up together.

But Erika had a job in LA. She had made new friends, and one in particular that made her stay amazingly memorable. She grew up in new ways and realized that her experiences over this summer were profoundly shaping her future. It was a very exciting time.

Then there was Missy, 2,000 miles away in the tiny Midwestern town of Hanover, Minnesota. Missy was in terrible pain and growing worse each day. Erika struggled, not knowing what to do. She couldn’t drop everything right now and go back home—or could she? Feelings of guilt consumed her. She prayed God would keep Missy alive until summer was over, until she could finish what she came to LA to do.

Missy didn’t make it. She died three weeks before Erika’s planned return. The night her parents put Missy down, they tried to feed her but she wouldn’t eat. She kept trying to stand but she’d just fall over with her tail wagging the whole time. Missy adored her family and to the very end tried to be the same cheerful, loving, and loyal dog she’d always been.

Erika still feels guilty she wasn’t there when Missy needed her most. Was she just plain selfish for staying in LA the whole summer? If Erika had known in advance that Missy would get sick and pass away, maybe she would’ve put off the trip until later. Maybe she would’ve asked her parents to take Missy with her to California. Maybe this, maybe that.

There are no easy answers for Erika. There are no instant remedies or greeting card platitudes that will make everything better. It’s not like Erika can phone God’s hotline to ask if she did the right thing. It’d be so nice if the Lord could FedEx a pill from heaven to instantly dissolve her feelings of guilt and selfishness—but that’s not how it works.

We have all gone through times when we wonder if we did the right thing. Black-and-white guilt is easier in a way. But gray-area guilt is what we deal with more often.

Should I have come home earlier to spend time with my terminally ill dog?

Should I have worked less and spent more time with my children when they were young?

Should I have taken more time with my elderly parents before they died?

Once the time has passed, once the window of opportunity has closed, there is no second chance to do things over. There is only dealing with one’s perception and memories.

If you are currently looking into a mirror and seeing a guilty face, whether it be in shades of gray or in stark black and white, there is a solution in Scripture. It doesn’t promise to be a quick fix or easy answer. It just points you in the right direction to deal with your very real feelings of guilt and personal condemnation. It points you to a choice: to embrace or to reject a personal relationship with Christ. Unlike many other options in life, this window of opportunity, this invitation from Jesus, is available for as long as you live—no matter how guilty you feel, no matter what you’ve done.

Though our feelings come and go,
God’s love for us does not.

C.S. L
EWIS

M
organ was a little Sheltie mix I adopted as a two-year-old rescue. He saw me as his savior and adored me. I adored him too—but not his bathroom habits. He kept having accidents in the house. I was told it would help the training process if I crated him when I couldn’t keep an eye on him.

Christmas afternoon was one of those times. I was going visiting for several hours, and hoping to prevent any mishaps, I left Morgan in his crate. When I got home that night, it seemed the tactic had succeeded. I let him and my other dog, Biscuit, out to do their business. Once they were back inside, I went to change clothes. In that short time, Morgan messed in the house yet again. In spite of all my efforts, he’d still blown it. And I lost it.

I knew I loved this dog dearly. I knew my yard was fenced and gated. I knew I didn’t mean what was coming out of my mouth. But I needed to vent. I put Morgan outside, in the fenced and gated yard, and told him to go live somewhere else.

Three minutes later I was running up the outdoor steps to my back fence, calling the little guy. When he came I gathered him in my arms. I plopped down on a step, wept into his fur, and told him that no matter what he did, I would always love him. I told him he was going nowhere. He was mine, no matter how badly he blew it, no matter how many times he messed.

Suddenly, out in the cold on Christmas night, with my little dog in my arms, it hit me. What a picture of my relationship with God! Through faith in Jesus’s death for my sins, I was adopted into God’s family…just as I’d adopted Morgan into mine. But I still sinned. I still kept “messing.” Even so, God didn’t put me out and tell me to go live somewhere else. He loved me so much that He was not willing to part with me, even though I deserved it (so much more than my dog did). So, figuratively speaking, He did with me what I did with Morgan. He gathered me into His lap, wept over me, and forgave me.

God used that Christmas experience with Morgan as a living parable in my life to pull back a curtain on the depths of His love. Centuries earlier, He did the same with the prophet Hosea. God asked Hosea to make his life a living illustration to Israel, showing them that despite their messes, His love would stay true. He told Hosea to marry an adulteress. Hosea took Gomer to be his wife, but she was unfaithful—just as Israel had been unfaithful to God. God told Hosea to go after Gomer and redeem her. In Hosea 3:1-2 we read, “The L
ORD
said to me, ‘Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another man and is an adulteress. Love her as the L
ORD
loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods and love the sacred raisin cakes.’ So I bought her for fifteen shekels of silver and about a homer and a lethek of barley.”

Ultimately, God bought all of us with the precious blood of His Son.

Morgan’s accidents lessened in time, but he never had a perfect record. Neither have I, in this life! But what the training crate of the law couldn’t do, a manger could. God sent His Son to clean up my sin mess so that despite my failures, I can bask in His unfailing love forever!

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only
light can do that. Hate cannot drive
out hate; only love can do that.

M
ARTIN
L
UTHER
K
ING
, J
R
.

T
he pressing question for Ryan on one never-to-be-forgotten night was whether the name would fit. That applied both to the girl he was taking on their first date, and the big, growling dog he would have to get past to do it.

Actually, Ryan had only the highest expectations for the girl. He loved her name—Bella, which means beautiful. He thought she was the most gorgeous girl he had ever met in his young life. They’d gotten to know each other at school. They were in a few classes together and talked at lunch. Her smile lit up her face and brightened Ryan’s world every time he saw it. He loved telling her silly stories about his fishing and hunting trips and seeing her grin in response.

Bella gave Ryan the impression that she liked him, so asking her out seemed like a natural next step. When she said she’d love to go, he wanted to jump up and down and shout for joy. But he kept his cool. He suggested going to a restaurant and movie—both of her choice. She happily agreed, and the date was set.

On the big night, Ryan was a bundle of excitement and nerves. Bella had told him where she lived and how to get there. Her home was on the other side of town from his, in a poorer community. The house was on a corner lot. The street was filled with children playing a wild game of kickball.

Ryan parked his car on a side street, away from the children, and walked up the steps to the wraparound front porch. He stopped to straighten his clothes and brush his hair. He had not yet met her parents and desperately wanted to make a good impression. Right about then, a growling pit bull rounded the corner of the house and started after him. He had no time to think. He dashed in the front door and slammed it shut behind him.

Ryan stood with his back to the wall, breathing heavily. He’d been too panicked to consider that he had just barged into someone’s home unannounced. He saw three people heading toward him to confront him. First was a man who appeared to be Bella’s father. Right behind was an older fellow—likely Bella’s granddad. Bringing up the rear was a young boy. Ryan figured him to be the little brother she had talked so much about. But where was Bella?

Ryan tried to introduce himself. The two men regarded him with a confused and somewhat angry stare. The little boy said his name was Raul and asked why Ryan was in their home. Ryan explained that he’d come to pick up Bella for a date. Raul translated these words for his still rather hostile-looking elders.